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Primus Doesn’t Suck
Just as The Doors and David Bowie were my constant companions-in-solitude during the earlier phases of the pandemic and the presidential campaign from hell, I find myself listening nonstop to Vivaldi and Primus now that we — hopefully — are on a downward slope. They are an odd couple to say the least. That Vivaldi appeals at the moment is, I think, pretty transparent: he is the baroque harbinger of seasonal change and tranquil renewal. It is hard to listen to Vivaldi without experiencing calmness and serenity.
You can’t say that of Primus. You might say it is hard to listen to them, period. But you’d be wrong.
My first exposure to Primus was way before my trans egg cracked — in 1992, I think, during U2’s “Zoo Station” tour, at their Yankee Stadium gig. The acoustics of the Old Stadium were somewhere between putrid and diabolical, and we of course had our pricey seats in the upper tier of left field, where the reverb was incessant, and the non-digital echo never decayed. When Primus opened for U2, the sonic experience was akin to putting your head in a dumpster and having someone hit the outsides with tympani mallets. My wife said that the opening act for U2 should rename themselves PU. She screamed “you suck!” before “Primus sucks!” became the official cry of affection by their fans. She went to her grave detesting them with a passion. I understood why.
