Photos and review by Nicole Sepulveda
@__nik__pics

I’ve been a Beatles fan for as long as I can remember. The kind of fan who went down every rabbit hole, watched every documentary, read every book, and learned way more about John Lennon than any normal person probably should.

So while I’ve seen Les Claypool a handful of times over the years, this was actually my first time seeing Sean Ono Lennon perform live.

The Claypool Lennon Delirium opened the first night of the Claypool Gold tour on May 20th at the Reno Events Center, bringing together two musicians who honestly seem like they were destined to collaborate. Their partnership started about a decade ago and recently produced a new album, The Great Parrot-Ox and the Golden Egg of Empathy, which somehow manages to be exactly as bizarre as that title suggests.

And bizarre—in the best possible way—was pretty much the theme of the night.

The Delirium opened backed by members of the Frog Brigade for the first few songs, immediately pulling the audience into their strange little universe. Giant squid graphics floated across the screens. Frog hats appeared everywhere I looked. At times I felt like I was watching a rock concert, and at other times I felt like I’d accidentally wandered into someone’s wonderfully weird dream.

What surprised me most were the visuals. Several of the animated sequences reminded me of the old Yellow Submarine cartoons. Maybe it was intentional. Maybe it wasn’t. Either way, they hit a nostalgic nerve for me. The imagery felt familiar before I even knew the songs, which made the new material strangely easy to connect with.

The entire evening felt like an oddity that slowly turned into an odyssey.

One of my favorite things about the crowd was how many parents had brought their kids. In a world where everyone talks about music dying or younger generations not caring about live shows, there was something really cool about seeing families experience this together. You could tell some of these kids were being introduced to Primus and Claypool’s world for the first time, while their parents were reliving a soundtrack they’ve loved for decades.

The energy never really dropped all night. People danced constantly. The pit seemed to circle endlessly. Between sets, chants of “Primus sucks!” echoed through the venue, which probably sounds confusing to anyone unfamiliar with the band but is actually one of the highest compliments Primus fans can give.

After the intermission, Primus took over the second half of the show.

Being opening night made the experience even more interesting. Primus had toured recently, and with a catalog this deep there are a million directions they could go. Rather than repeating the same show fans saw last year, they mixed things up considerably. Outside of a few songs that practically have to be played, much of the set felt fresh.

When “My Name Is Mud” started, the crowd absolutely lost it.

Then came “Jerry Was a Race Car Driver,” another personal favorite of mine, and somehow the energy climbed even higher. Watching the entire venue explode while Les Claypool casually played bass lines that most musicians couldn’t dream of pulling off was one of those moments that reminds you why live music is special.

I’ve only seen Claypool perform a few times, but every time I walk away with the same thought.

Why isn’t this guy universally considered the greatest bass player alive?

Maybe it’s because he’s too weird. Maybe it’s because Primus has never fit neatly into any category. Maybe it’s because Claypool has spent his entire career making exactly the music he wants instead of chasing mainstream attention.

Whatever the reason, watching him move effortlessly between The Claypool Lennon Delirium, Frog Brigade, and Primus in a single night felt like watching a master at work.

The first night of the Claypool Gold tour wasn’t just a concert. It felt like a celebration of weirdness, creativity, and the kind of musical curiosity that’s becoming harder and harder to find.

There were squids. There were frog hats. There were kids experiencing Primus for the first time.

And there was Les Claypool, reminding everyone why nobody does it quite like him.