Concert Review: 311 (Daily Variety, 1996)‏

311
(Palladium; 3835 capacity $18)

The accomplished and eclectic sounds of 311 are finally finding an audience worthy of the band's talent and potential. And considering the powerful show the group preformed here, the music world's timing couldn't be better.

The L.A.-based quintet formed in Omaha, Neb., in 1990 and has been on a slow, steady climb toward mainstream favor ever since. Combining rap, rock, reggae, jazz and R&B stylings into one potent and unique brew, 311 distinguishes itself from the usual flavors of the day with an informed hip-hop flow, an ever-changing potpourri of sounds and styles, and an unyielding positivity that permeates the group's high-energy concerts.

At the very sold-out (street scalpers were seen desparately looking for unwanted tickets) Palladium, the band played its biggest headlining show in L.A. Opening with the celebratory "Homebrew" from 1994's "Grassroots," 311 set a rapid pace for itself and the frenzied audience that both easily maintained throughout the 80-minute show.

Vocalist Nick Hexum and S.A. Martinez traded sharp rap lines, reggae bursts, and smart harmonies; the instrumentalists - guitarist Tim Mahoney, bassist P-Nut, and drummer Chad Sexton - continually impressed with a dexterous and infectous style that complimented the two singers' flow.

311's latest, self-titled album is fast approaching gold-level sales, and the group has a big summer ahead, headlining shows during the HORDE and Warped Tour. Considering that the president of Mercury Records, which recently bought out Capicorn, has named 311 as one of the label's priorities, it's easy to see the band's long-expected breakthrough is just around the corner.

311 MAKES IT OUT OF THE GRASS AND INTO THE GREEN (Rolling Stone)

Mainstream Success Is Easy Going

Posted Oct 24, 1996 12:00 AM

After five years of lukewarm record sales and little attention from the media, 311 seemed destined to remain in the shadows despite a solid grassroots following. They basically made a living as a touring band with relatively little airplay and even less critical respect. When they introduced their rap/rock/reggae/jazz fusion on 1991's "Music," grunge reigned supreme, and the music world revolved around Seattle, not Omaha, Nebraska--a city where easy-going agrarians are a hell of a lot more likely to praise the beloved Cornhuskers on Saturday than give a rat's ass about a band like 311. That's all changed, however, with the release of the band's third full-length record, simply titled "311," and a video for the first single, "Down" that landed in MTV's Buzz Bin. The last year has been good to the band: a platinum record, a No. 1 video and even a slot at Madison Square Garden in New York supporting Kiss. At his new home in Los Angeles, lead singer Nick Hexum recently spoke with ROLLING STONE.COM'S Kevin Raub about his recent purchases, the next record, and the bands spiritual connection with four old guys that wear makeup.
ROLLING STONE.COM: You just finished a relentless touring schedule. What've you been doing with your free time?
NICK HEXUM: I moved into a house and got a couple of puppies--two Dobermans but one's a Min Pin [Miniature Pincher]. They're the exact same color but one of them is tiny.
RS.COM: You guys seem to finally be getting some critical attention. Why do you think it took so long?
NH: Well, I think the world wasn't really ready for us. When "Music" came out, everyone was still really into grunge, and now I think people are moving away from straight rock and getting into bands like No Doubt, Goldfinger and Korn. They are hybrid bands such as ourselves with either ska or hip-hop elements. I just think it's time that people are appreciating cross-genre stuff.
RS.COM: "Down" is a shout out to your grassroots fans, thanking them for always being there. It's ironic that it's the song that broke you.
NH: Yeah, I had a real good feeling about the song because it had that hook that I kept singing and then everyone else started singing it. But it is ironic that it would be a grassroots message that would bring us to the mainstream. It's kind of funny, we finally had gotten to a place where we really didn't need MTV and everything because we could make a living though touring. And I always kind of thought that when we didn't need them, they would come to the plate. And it happened.
RS.COM: What was it like opening for Kiss at the Garden?
NH: It was a gig.
RS.COM: You aren't a big Kiss fan?
NH: Not really, but there are some parallels between our band and theirs. They never had much critical acclaim or acceptance but they still made a really good career out of it. We've been snubbed in our careers as far as critically and we figured we would be like that forever.
RS.COM: How'd the crowd treat you?
NH: I heard that we did really well because we got booed the least of any band that opened for Kiss. The show was already sold-out by the time we got put on the bill so there weren't a lot of 311 fans, but they gave it up. But there was some booing. It was different, not having a pit and stuff.
RS.COM: What can we expect from your next record?
NH: I think we're going to go more in the direction of our first album. We did a lot more production, we used samples, and a lot of percussion and trippy dub-style effects. We're going back to more psychedelic. We're just going to really try to get out there as far as some ambient stuff. I've also been trying to learn the old jazz standards. I'm not listening to that much rap right now. The De La Soul record is amazing but other than that I don't have much rap going through my CD player.

Number Crunchers (Details Magazine)

Bridging the Gap (Dallas Observer)

In the United States, a country where b-boy cool has become de rigueur in white suburbia and psychedelic punks the Butthole Surfers have seen their first taste of Top 10 success come from--of all things--a rap song, lines have blurred. Call it the lollapollution of America.
Since 1991, when Perry Farrell created Lollapalooza--the traveling festival that features diverse musical styles including punk and funk--rap and rock music have started to move closer to one another. Rap bands have left the standard two-turntables-and-a-mike approach and are beginning to utilize live musicians. Rock bands have incorporated rap techniques like sampling and drum machines into their repertoires.
Los Angeles-based 311 bridges the ever-shrinking gap between the two genres, shifting from rap to reggae to funk to hard rock on the same record, sometimes on the same song. Surprising from a band whose members grew up in Nebraska, a state more known for growing corn and tipping cows than musical diversity.
It's that versatility that has allowed the band to appeal to both the tattooed and pierced crowd of the skateboard-competition-with-a-soundtrack WARPED tour, on which the band just finished a week of headlining dates, and the roots rockers of the H.O.R.D.E. tour, on which the group will spend the last week of August on the main stage. Drummer Chad Sexton says that puts the band in a unique situation.
"I do think we are one of the only bands that could play both tours," he says. "I mean, most of our songs have a harder edge to them, but we could put together a 30-, 45-minute set of just our reggae stuff, and we would be just fine. Our crowds have always been made up of a lot of different kinds of people. I think our music kind of promotes that.
"Most of our fans are people like us who are into a lot of different types of music. I know I get bored playing the same style over and over."
The band is used to playing before diverse audiences. Several years ago, 311 played a festival in Birmingham, Alabama, on a bill with the Neville Brothers and several country bands. The scared organizers didn't know how to handle the band's young, moshing crowd, and--as often happens in situations of this type--they overreacted. Police moved into riot formation and started spraying the crowd with Mace. It wasn't the first time that the group had clashed with security personnel about fan behavior, but Sexton says things have changed for the better in the past few years.
"That [the Birmingham incident] happened a long time ago. That kind of stuff doesn't happen very much at all anymore," he says. "I mean, they weren't really expecting our kind of crowd. But we haven't had problems with security in a while. They have gotten more familiar with the kind of crowd we have."
311 has spent much of the past six years making sure that bouncers throughout the country are familiar with its music. The band--which also includes singer-guitarist Nick Hexum, bassist P-Nut, guitarist Timothy Mahoney, and singer Doug (SA) Martinez--formed in 1990 in Omaha. A positive buzz quickly spread after the group's first show opening for Fugazi, and soon, 311 had built a massive fan base throughout the Midwest. After releasing three highly successful independent albums (Dammit!, Unity, and Hydroponic) the band, tired of being the big fish in a small pond, decided to move to Los Angeles, where Midwestern big fish are regularly flushed down the toilet.
But the move paid off for 311. Six months after arriving in L.A., the band signed a deal with Capricorn Records.
"We have a really good relationship with them [Capricorn]," Sexton says. "They were kind of involved on our first record, but now they pretty much let us do what we want to do, musicwise, without much interference. They trust us now."
Nonstop touring followed the group's signing. Even before its latest single, "Down," became firmly entrenched in MTV's Buzz Bin, 311 was able to sell out clubs and theaters throughout the country on the strength of word-of-mouth alone. The members of the band were on the road so much that they moved out of their communal house in L.A. and began living permanently on the tour bus.
"Life on the road is pretty good. We all have our own bunks so we can sleep as much as we want," Sexton says. "I mean, I've seen places around the country that I never thought I'd get to see."
The road hasn't always been good to 311, however. In 1993, while en route to a gig in Kansas City, the recreational vehicle the group was traveling in caught fire. The musicians narrowly escaped before the RV exploded, but lost all of their musical equipment and personal belongings in the fire. The Kansas City show was canceled, but one night later, 311 was back on stage, playing with rented equipment and with what bassist P-Nut describes as "blind aggression."
An experience like that can cause a young band to either implode or get stronger. As its quick return to the stage shows, 311 is in the latter category, practicing the positive message it preaches on its records. The group has not only carried on, it has gotten better, becoming more adept musically, and maturing lyrically, as it leaves the confines of rap and adopts a harder guitar edge and more melody. Its latest release, 1995's 311, is the band's strongest work to date, carrying on the band's goal of making rap songs melodic. The album seamlessly blends influences as dissimilar as the reggae-tinged hard-core of Bad Brains ("DLMD") and the pop smoothness of Nat King Cole ("Purpose").

Cypress Hill; 311; Pharcyde (Variety)

The 3 1/2-hour show -- which could have been confused for a hemp fest, with all the pot references -- was headlined by Cypress Hill, the South-Central outfit whose distinctive gangsta hybrid has spawned uncounted imitators.
This hip-hop triple bill at the sold-out Universal Amphitheatre featured three talented L.A.-based groups with a few things in common -- most notably their shared love for marijuana -- and some glaring differences, the most obvious being 311's full-band setup, an advantage that the funk-rock-rap crew used to conclusively steal the thunder from the evening's other two acts. The band's third Ruff House/Columbia album, last year's "Temples of Boom," does little, unfortunately, beyond their well-documented, one-dimensional approach, a shortcoming that this 75-minute set couldn't overcome.

Frontman B-Real's vocal style -- comparable to a busted and muffled air-raid siren -- is nearly bereft of dynamic flow, but does score on the in-your-face meter.

Cypress Hill provided a non-stop barrage of monotonous songs about pot and the people who smoke it (everyone they know, it seems), and "rollin' wit' my homies," leaving the lone interesting musical aspect to wild outbursts from percussionist Bobo.

Of course, following 311 didn't help. That quintet -- two rapper/singers and a guitar-bass-drums backup -- have their dexterous approach down to a science. Capable singing and legit rapping skills lift frontmen Nicholas Hexum and S.A. above most hip-hoppers. An endless, seamless stream of styles -- jazz, metal, old school hip-hop -- held interest level high throughout the band's 45-minute set.

With three albums under their belt, 311 looks primed to make a move to the headlining level. A Lollapalooza main-stage ticket should be cut for this bunch.

Openers the Pharcyde caught their fans off guard with their sophomore album, "Labcabincalifornia" (Delicious Vinyl/Capitol), which focused on smooth vocals and a more romantic delivery, much to the chagrin of many. At Universal the predictable: older tracks were greeted with enthusiasm and dancing; the newer ones with skepticism and apathy. Back to the drawing board.

Confusion over 311 Line in Omaha (Omaha World Herald)

A headline appearing in The World Herald caught the attention of local music fans. It read: "Need for 311 in Omaha Is Doubted."
Apparently, followers of the former omaha band 311 (pronounced Three-Eleven) took a double when a story ran concerning the potential need for a non-emergency phone number to augment 911. The number being set aside by the U.S. government for that purpose is 311.
"I had a number of people comment on it," said Linda McDonald mother of 311 drummer Chad Sexton.
Confusion about the Feb. 20 headlin might have been caused in part by a television feature story about local bands that aired on WOWT-TV (Channel 6) the night before, Ms. McDonald said. Among the bands featured was 311, which has had its share of controversy since forming in 1990.
Last year, the band's name -- taken from a police code for indecent exposure -- was feared to be linked to the KKK by some local authorities and Westside High School Students.
Ms. McDonald said she talked by phone last week to her son, who wondered wether the new 311 emergency number -- currently being researched by Omaha officials -- might draw attention to the band, which has been living in the Los Angeles area since 1991.
"He said he didn't know if it's good or bad," said Ms. McDonald.

311's P-Nut (Bass Player)

MOST MULTI-PLATINUM BANDS ACHIEVE SUCCESS in one of two ways: either they make it big suddenly with a hit single or two-often falling into oblivion as quickly as they rose to the top-or they scratch and claw their way up the charts, leaving a string of high-quality but underappreciated records in their wake. The latter is the case with 311, a Nebraska-bred quintet raised on equal parts of sweet corn, hard rock, reggae, rap, and funk. This is no case of corporate image-mongering, aggressive marketing ploys, or heavy-handed A&R tactics. 311 has achieved success the old-fashioned way: they've earned it.

Anyone who's witnessed a 311 concert knows these guys are the real deal. There's drummer Chad Sexton, one of the most tasty, solid, and innovative stickmen in modern rock. There's guitarist Tim Mahoney, who's as likely to spin out a delicate Garcia or Santana lick as he is to pound out a highly syncopated power-chord riff-a man who's half Deadhead, half metal monster. There's Nick Hexum, who can wield a guitar with the best of 'em but who often unstraps his axe to concentrate on his sweet, always-dead-on vocals. There's SA Martinez, who at any time might be spinning a turntable, delivering a hard-hitting rap assault, singing in sublime harmony with Hexum, or just clowning it up with kooky dance moves. And there's P-Nut, whose rubbery, happy-go-lucky stage presence is as strong as his ultra-tight, ultra-syncopated, super-smooth bass lines. Together, they put on a show that's equally great for watching, listening, or moshing.

In 1991, after gathering an army of local fans in Omaha, 311 picked up and moved to Los Angeles. P-Nut-the band's youngest member, now 23-had to graduate from high school early to accommodate the relocation. Within months, the band signed a deal with Capricorn Records and recorded their first CD, Music; sales weren't great, but they expanded their fan base considerably during the extended tour that followed. In '94 they recorded Grassroots, and once again P-Nut had to put most of his possessions into storage for another long haul on the road. The next year, 311 recorded their eponymous "Blue Album" and toured some more. It wasn't until late '96 that radio and MTV began playing the record's second single, the aggressively rap-driven "Down." The more melodic third single, "All Mixed Up," was even bigger, giving the "Blue Album" legs that stretched well into 1997 and propelling sales to well over the two-million mark. 311 had arrived.

The ride isn't over. Not by a long shot. The band's most recent effort, Transistor, is their most musical and melodic to date. And P-Nut is playing with more creativity, taste, and depth than ever. "For the last album I wasn't necessarily 100% there, and I think it sounds like it," he said during our interview at his brand-new Hollywood Hills home, just before 311 kicked off its '97 tour with a month-long swing through Europe. "I definitely spent more time in the studio for this album, and I couldn't be happier with how it turned out."

Like their touring compatriots No Doubt before them, 311 is set to make some serious noise in '97 and '98. If they do, you can be sure P-Nut's bass style-now matured and enriched by the open-minded diversity of his listening tastes-will be a major contributing factor.

Since you became a professional musician, in what directions have you been trying to go with your bass style?

I've actually just been trying to maintain everything. When I was younger, I tried to be really inventive and made a big effort to do my own thing; now I shy away from that and just try to be more confident and lay into the pocket better. But I'm expanding, like every musician should. I'm going back to figuring out songs from records, like I used to do when I was a kid. I don't know why I got away from that for so long-but lately I've broken out records by the Red Hot Chili Peppers and Curtis Mayfield and begun figuring out the bass lines. I think that's really good for my brain.

Any examples?

I figured out the Chili Peppers' "Knock Me Down" [Mothers Milk, EMI], which I love-that's a fun bass line to play. I also had to figure out the Clash song "White Man in Hammersmith Palais" [The Clash, CBS] for a Clash tribute album we played on. [Ed. Note: At press time, the Clash tribute was untitled and without a label.]

What kind of personal goals did you have when making Transistor?

I wanted to write more, and I did, so I feel better-but I still need to write even more, so I'm already thinking about the next album. That's good, because I never want to get stuck in one area.

I knew a lot of people would be listening to the new record, but I tried not to let that bother me too much. I didn't even think any of my songs were going to make it, because they were the first ones I wrote by myself-so I didn't have crazy high hopes. Plus, I didn't write the lyrics, so I couldn't tell how they would turn out until they were done. But I think "Creature Feature" [see music, page 49] ended up being one of the more musical tunes on the album.

Actually, most of the songs on Transistor are really musical. I knew that was going to be the dominant feel of this record, compared to the rock formula we used on the last album.

What are your earliest musical memories?

I remember hearing music around the house, but I couldn't tell you what it was. My parents didn't listen to a lot of music; it wasn't a part of their daily routine. I grew up wanting to have music playing all the time-probably because I didn't get to listen to it much when I was a kid.

Was your home environment liberal or conservative?

It was very liberal. The first album I bought was Motley Crue's Shout at the Devil [Elektra], and my mom was right there. I was 10 or 11 at the time. I can't say she approved, but . . . .

Did you play any instruments in school?

My first instrument was violin, which I took up in the second grade. I decided to take it up because my brother was playing the saxophone, and I wanted to do something different from him-so I picked a stringed instrument.

Can you still play violin?

I could bow some notes and they wouldn't squeak, but that's probably as far as I'd go. But I could probably remember everything if I sat down and worked at it for a couple of weeks-especially since I've kept my hands agile.

When I was in the fifth grade, I quit the violin and went right to bass. They wouldn't let me start on bass right away, so I had to take six weeks of guitar lessons, at a music store in a mall. The teacher was pretty cool; I learned [Deep Purple's] "Smoke on the Water" and [Yes's] "Owner of a Lonely Heart," along with some chords-three of which I still remember today. I did get an acoustic guitar later on in case I wanted to make up some more chords. Someday I'll get to that-but not right now. I'm still learning the bass.

What made you want to start playing bass?

Everyone who was musical in my neighborhood was playing either guitar or drums, and I wanted to be doing something else-and playing bass seemed like the natural thing. Plus, I was listening to a lot of Iron Maiden records back then, and I really liked the way Steve Harris made their music sound. He was definitely the first bass player who grabbed me. He's a monster.

When you were taking guitar lessons, did you have a bass?

No, just a guitar-a horrible Les Paul copy. But it was all wood, just like all of my basses are now. That, along with my violin experience, started my fascination with wood. I like wood instruments-that's the way it should be. I like wood furniture, too.

My first bass was a Precision copy called a Phantom. I didn't play it all that much, though, because my bass teacher was really structured; he prearranged what was going to happen and didn't let things happen. He had also kept the same set of strings on his bass for eight years. That's totally cool, and it does give a great sound-but it just wasn't very exciting for me. I'm sure he could have gotten some great dub sounds out of that bass, but I guarantee he wasn't! That's probably why I didn't play as much as I should have right when I started out.

When I was 14, I started taking lessons at a different shop-a place called Russo's-and they were just the best. The people there were a lot closer in age to my generation, and they listened to music that was more similar to what I was listening to. Plus, they were all fantastic musicians. That place was the only store in Omaha like that; all the others specialized in band instruments, because that's how they stayed in business.

My teacher at Russo's was totally mellow. All he wanted me to do was to bring in music; he'd figure it out, and by the end of the hour he'd have me playing it. That got me very motivated and got me to start figuring out stuff on my own. By that time I had moved up to a Fender Jazz Special, which I eventually put EMGs into. My teacher, though, had an early, Telecaster-style Precision, which I thought was the coolest thing. [Ed. Note: A similar instrument is featured in The Great Basses on page 88.] I remember bringing in the Chili Peppers' "If You Want Me to Stay" [Freaky Stylie, EMI], which of course is a Sly Stone song-and my teacher laughed so hard; he couldn't believe someone had covered that tune, because he liked it so much in the original form. But I stood up for the Chili Peppers, because they did a damn good job with that song-and also because they had a lot of balls trying to cover a Sly song.

My teacher had me listen to a lot of Level 42, because Mark King is such an amazing thumb-smith; I learned a great deal from that. That's actually how I started doing double-handed slaps, because it sounded so cool when Mark King did it. Later on, I heard Les Claypool using the same technique-but he was also adding extra thumbs, pulling different strings in different sequences, and strumming. He's an amazing musician, too.

Were you playing with other people at this point?

I was playing with the first 311 guitarist, Jimmy Watson, who's still doing stuff in Omaha. I was also playing with a drummer friend of ours. Later, when I was 15, I started playing with Chad-and he blew my mind the first time we jammed together.

Did you lock up instantly with Chad?

No question about it; I've never locked better with another musician. Even from that first time we played together, down in his basement, he had that same snare sound: so bright and sharp. I was almost deaf by the end of that day.

Chad had been in a drum corps-and when you're playing the snare with seven other people all doing the exact same thing, I'm sure you feel that connection with the other people. And even though Chad and I have a strong connection when we play together, it has to be even stronger when a bunch of guys are all playing exactly the same part.

Have you played on anyone else's records?

I've done things for local people in Omaha, but that's about it. I'd like to do other stuff-I'll take inquiries, although I'll be pretty busy for the next year! Actually, Chad and I have had little rumblings all through our career about someday doing something different-maybe even in the jazz vein. We'll probably do it in his home studio just for fun, but who knows?

What kind of theoretical background would you bring to a project like that?

Ignorance! [Laughs.] Complete and total ignorance. I'd just have fun with it; I'd feel no pressure, and I could just go off. A head shop in Los Angeles called the Galaxy has something called Acid Jazz Night, where people just show up and play-and I played bass on one of those nights a few weeks ago. It was really cool. That was the first time I'd played with any other musicians outside of 311 in any kind of public forum, which wasn't all that public. There were about 50 people there, and I don't think anyone knew who I was, which I liked even better. In Los Angeles, it's easy to blend in-even when you have a bass strapped on and you're playing with a band.

I'm playing bass for many, many reasons. I like the role that goes with it; I like feeling no pressure; and I like the way it lets me be very loose onstage-and just in general-because there are no confines. I think I was made to be a bass player.

It's interesting how popular you are among bassists, considering your lines tend not to be flashy or obvious. Why do you think people notice you so much?

Actually, when I started out, I was trying to play as much as I could-and it seems the older and more confident I get, the more relaxed I'm getting with just laying down a bass part. I still have the flashy stuff in me, but I'm trying to use it with more taste. I like being not too demanding on the ear; I like to mesh. But also, especially onstage, I like to freak a little and just enjoy myself. My role is completely different live from what it is in the studio, because on the records I try to blend in really well, whereas onstage I try to make the bass stand out more-even if it's not that much louder. I'm feelin' it, baby.

What do you consider the characteristics of the perfect bass line?

I don't know. The perfect bass line is impossible to get; it shouldn't even be attempted, because you'll always fail. Simply put, in any given bass line, there's either too much going on or too little going on. You couldn't give it a superlative like "perfect," because it would take so many different factors to make a musical part perfect. Also, one line can be good in one way and another can be good in another way, and yet the two can stand by each other. There are probably thousands of quintessentially perfect bass lines-but there is no one, for sure. Jaco got pretty close, though.

Are you a Jaco fan?

Yeah-not a very big one, though. I know his solo albums better than his work with Weather Report, although I have Heavy Weather [Columbia]. Chad listens to a lot more of that kind of music than I do; in fact, he exposed me to it.

Would you ever try to figure out one of Jaco's bass lines?

I'd try; I don't know if I'd succeed, though, because I'm really no good on fretless. It's really difficult for me, because I learned the violin through the Suzuki method-and I've definitely applied that kind of thinking to the bass, even though it was unintentional. I don't necessarily think of the notes all the time and where they fit with everything else. I play more by memory-with my right brain. I'm used to just remembering a sequence of hand positions. That's actually something I'm trying to get out of by writing music, because writing is listening as much as feeling where you are, which may be one reason why I find it so hard to write.

The bass isn't a super-difficult instrument, although it certainly isn't the easiest, either; it takes a lot of physical muscle compared to other instruments that require more finesse. Plus, there are very few people out in front of the bass world, so there's lots of room for expression; the bass hasn't been flogged until it's purple, like some instruments I know! That's another reason why I was attracted to the bass-especially in the beginning, when I couldn't really name any bass players who stuck out besides Steve Harris.

What kind of bassist do you think you'd be if you had received more formal training?

I might be less outgoing, I hate to say. I'd like to think that since I learned the bass with a looser, less educated, more rootsy and feel-oriented approach-one where I play music only because I love to play music-my playing style ended up being looser. I believe that's because I don't feel much pressure. I would like to be one of the better bass players out there, but I also know I'm young and have a lot to learn. I always think about all the people who can play every chord and name every scale and put together a song in their head without ever playing it.

Heavily trained bassists also tend to have more exacting tastes-and sometimes don't approve of Les Claypool's playing, for example.

That's so wrong-horribly wrong. It's probably equally wrong that I don't know as much jazz theory as I should, but the jazz players should recognize and accept Les as a modern pioneer. There's no question about that. In my mind, anyway.

How is he a pioneer to you?

He's playing bass as a lead instrument at all times; it just doesn't stop. The guitar and percussion are playing mostly rhythmic parts, but his bass runs the band-even more than his vocals. He's singing through his instrument and carrying the whole load. Jaco did that, too; he controlled the musical flow in his band in the same way Les runs Primus.

A lot of people accuse Claypool of being sloppy.

You can find mistakes in his playing, sure. But they're great mistakes! I mean, if you can't laugh at your bass lines, you're too serious. There's a time and place for all kinds of playing; you're not going to put on a Primus album to sit down and work on theory-you'll play it because you love to hear what that particular artist does on his instrument. I put Les in my personal hall of fame just for that reason; I think anyone who can make a unique piece of art deserves to be immortalized in some way. Les is one of a kind, and he doesn't give a fuck what people think. I love that about him-although I don't really feel the need to control the band with my bass playing the way he does. Not yet, anyway.

There aren't a lot of people who would listen to Primus, Jaco, and dub reggae records all in one day. Do you make a conscious effort to vary your listening?

Yes, but it also comes naturally. My brother had me listening to all kinds of crazy stuff when I was a kid; he's older and hung out with different people, so he brought different things to the table.

A lot of the younger bands are doing the same thing we are-trying to fuse styles-and I think it's a really good thing. I believe that if you listen to a lot of different types of music, you'll play different styles, unless you're deliberately limiting yourself to one. Screw that; you should be able to do anything you want. There are no limits, unless you put them on yourself.

What would you say to rockers who say, "Jazz sucks," or vice-versa?

Those people are missing out. You should feel sorry for them-and if you're one of those people, you should change yourself, because there really isn't anything to lose by listening to different types of music.

Do you see yourself ever losing your musical elasticity as you get older?

Oh, yeah. You get more set in your ways; you just get used to thinking a certain way. And that way of thinking only reinforces itself-you get more rigid because you've heard the same thing come out of your mouth so many times. That's even true of what I'm saying now.

Even in your flashier days, you've always been a highly supportive player. What is it about support that attracts you?

Support is necessary in the bass realm-but there's a time for everything. It shouldn't be overdone, and it shouldn't be underdone, but it's all up to the individual. As you mature as a bass player, you become more confident with just sitting in the pocket. Whether that's good or bad is hard to say-especially if you're coming from a more crazy, flamboyant attitude and heading in a direction that's more slower-paced and cerebral. I think if there's any musical area you don't know or haven't experienced, you should explore it. There's always room for growth.

Your recorded bass tone has changed over the years. Are you still searching for the ideal tone?

I think I got it on Transistor. I pretty much recorded the whole album using one Warwick Streamer Stage II 5-string with Seymour Duncan Basslines pickups in it. Those pickups are great. I didn't really want to change my tone that much; I adjusted the onboard EQ, but that's about it. My tones on our other records had been pretty bass-heavy, so this time I really wanted to brighten up things. I like a tone that's somewhere in between warm and midrangy, right in the nice, punchy area-extreme low end, but with punch on top. It helps that I use custom-gauge strings, which go .040, .060, .080, .100, .130. It makes sense numerically-I like the extra .010 going from the E string to the B, because I want the B to be that much lower. It also feels good to have the B string that thick.

Listening to so much dub and reggae music must have had an impact on the tone you want.

Probably. I love a good, over-bassy, '70s dub sound-although I've never really gotten one like that on record.

How did you get turned onto Warwick basses?

I saw and heard Norwood Fisher [of Fishbone] play them, and I was sold instantly. I didn't necessarily like the style of the Thumb Basses I had always seen him with, even though I do have one of those now-but I knew Warwick would have something I'd like. Those basses are just beautiful works of art. When I was looking at Warwicks, I asked what the company's best bass was; they showed me the Streamer Stage II, I liked it, and I took it home. I brought that particular bass out on the road after we recorded Grassroots, and now it has a lot of cool wear spots on it.

When you're not touring, how do you spend your free time?

I've been home for almost six months now-which is weird for us, because we've toured so much in recent years. I'm pretty spoiled, so it will be nice to get that road discipline back. When I'm home, I'm usually propped in front of the TV or the computer. I like to float around America Online and see who's talking about 311; I go into chat rooms and pretend to be nobody, which is great. I'm getting pressure from the band to get a public screen name, which I'll have to do someday. There are already five or six impostors out there claiming they're me-and some of them are even starting to fool my mom! On a couple of occasions she's had to call me up and ask if something I'd supposedly said was true, and I've had to say, "No-I'd tell you first." My mom is online all the time; she talks to everyone about 311.

Have you ever "met" one of your impostors online?

No-but if I did, I couldn't do anything; I'd have to just sit there and watch. If I tested one of them, which I definitely could, everyone would figure out it was me.

How do you spend your free time on the road?

During the day it's pretty slow. I do some reading, and I'm sure I'll be reading even more on this tour, because it takes even longer to set up our stuff these days. I used to be pretty lazy on the road, but this time I'm bringing out my bike, so I'll at least get exercise. I've taken out my skateboard before, but skateboard exercise isn't that great, and you can screw yourself up pretty easily if you fall. I'd hate to be crippled onstage-although I'd always find a way to play.

Are there any things that bother you in today's bass world?

I think there's a lot of low-end mediocrity, especially in pop music. Constant unison lines are a dead giveaway for that, as well as a lack of expression. I mean, even in a song with A sections and B sections that repeat, you can still play a different bass line during the different sections. Paul McCartney did that a lot. "With a Little Help from My Friends" [Sgt. Pepper's, EMI] is a prime example; it's so cool and tasty, and it's a very outgoing line, too.

What one thing helps you to avoid falling victim to "low-end mediocrity"?

Listening to as much different music as possible. That's the way I learn things and appreciate things the best, and I hope it comes out in my writing and my playing.

Are there certain traps bassists fall into that prevent their lines from being as good as they could be?

People often get lost in the mix by not playing lines that jump out-but then again, it's easy to play too much. With the bass, you're always balancing on that razor's edge between playing a percussive role and a melodic role. It has to be interesting for the musician, but you've still got to lay down the groove. Victor Wooten and Stanley Clarke both have that down, which I think comes from playing with other fantastic musicians for years and years. But I'm in no hurry to get all the culture I need to become a better bass player; right now, I'm just enjoying what's going on with the band. I think if I tried too hard, my playing would come out false. I'm just trying to let it grow on its own.