Les Claypool and the Holy Mackerel - Highball with the Devil

Running the Gauntlet

What are you wanting from me?
Look over my shoulder as much as you please.
We're primed and we're ready to go toe to toe with disease.

And what are you hoping to see?
Would it set you back if I drop to my knees?
We're running the gauntlet and filling our socks with debris.

And what kind of game shall it be?
If I played any faster, my tendons would freeze.
And the boys in the back room are charging exorbitant fees.

Guitar, bass, drums, vocals - Les Claypool

Holy Mackerel

Pick a name, pick a place.
Chances are I've had the means to be there.
Pick a date, pick a time,
I've got it from a friend of mine.
The ability to socialize.
Holy Mackerel
Once when I was young,
I troubled over imperfection in my knees.
When you cultivate a pompadour,
it's best to keep the top up for the breeze.
Cuts like hell, ya know.
Sporty was a poetry boy
and liked to puff his pipe into the night.
But since he sold him hits of ectasy,
Johnn Law, he took a decade of his life.
That's a hunk o' life.
Holy Mackerel.

Guitars - Joe Gore | Guitar Solo - Mark "Mirv" Haggard | Drums - Jay Lane | Bass and Vocals - Les Claypool

Highball with the Devil

He came to conquer what he could
but he held back
'Cause his tongue was tied by shy
So he laid the money down and he drank up
Put the sparkle in his eye
Sittin' down you saw his paunch
so he stood up
And he gazed across the room
The toxin squeezed the head
so he slipped back
He knew he left his seat too soon
Come the morning
We'll be waiting
and weilding the power
to paralyze
So we state now
for the records
you brought this upon you
Paralyze, agonize, terrorize

Bass, Guitars, Drums, Vocals - Les Claypool | Additional Vocals - Adam Gates


Lonely, homely boy they called him Lucy
Mama's little man
And she calls him Hendershot
His mama called him Hendershot

Be seen and not be heard, they told him
He grew into a big man they call
They always call him Hendershot

Walking down the side streets of SoHo
Chances are you'll bump into our friend
That's Hendershot

Sitting on a blanket near Saint Marks
is a man selling handbags he gets from
But he doesn't call him Hendershot

Guitar - Mark "Mirv" Haggard | Bass, Crums, Vocals - Les Claypool

Calling Kyle

His momma used to dance at the Broadway
Broadway, where the young men go to drop
the coins in one two three

He remembered walking in
Not knowing applesauce from sin
And uncles trotted one two three

Calling Kyle

His pop was met at the Ballpark Franks
He used to root the radio for Yanks
They said they's aerate the greens

On Coleman he would spot the sheep
On Christmas he'd kept the keep
Turkey Day saw no greens

Calling Kyle

Bass, String Bass (Arco), Drums, Vocals - Les Claypool


Rancor, rancor
Wake her up and thank her
Where's Billy Bob? GEne, weigh the anchor
Rancor, rancor
You really oughtn't spank her
Oh olalaberry
Rancor, rancor
Flarin' up my canker
Isabella Dzermann grew up to be a banker
Rancor, rancor
The parasite wanker
Does olalaberry
She thinks she's so complimentary
But it takes all kinda to bake a cake

Guitars - Mark "Mirv" Haggard | Bass, Drums, Vocals - Les Claypool

Cohibas Esplenditos

Mr. Hamster and Hot Potato Man
turns the city on its ear.
Mr. Hamster takes Hot Potato Man
by the arm,
Bombay Sapphire in his hand

and Cohibas... Esplenditos.

Saw Mr. Potato Man the other day
down at the Wasteland.
He's a happy boy, full of vim and vigor
since the day he left his wife.
Him and the Hamster, at the nudie shows,
they like the finer things in life,

like Cohibas... Esplenditos.

Electric-Bowed Backsaw - Mark "Mirv" Haggard | Drums - Jay Lane | Bass, Guitar, Vocals - Les Claypool

Delicate Tendrils

Now, because you own , you possess.
You have something that they can take.
You remember how it was when you had nothing.
You looked at the ones who had what you wanted
and you felt strong in your need.
Brave in your limited surroundings.
Righteous in your desires for something different.
Contemptuous of those who had exactly what you wanted.
You hated them because they looked weak and slightly scared.
You circled the water hole and thought about closing in.

Now you have it and feel weak in your power to keep it.
You feel desperate to make them see that you won't let them take it away.
Because it's yours.
You never had to justify yourself and your possessions before.
I earned this.
I worked hard for what I've got.
I paid my dues.
I deserve this.
You say these things to yourself as the animals circle and wait.
Shake your fists at the Hyenas.
Chase them away from your water hole.
See them all differently..
Now you see that they all want something.
You get some juice.
Human becomes prey.
Human gets scared.
Figure out that you have to become hard to keep it yours.
You have to be cruel.
You have to kill them off just for looking.
Leave the bodies by the water hole so the rest will see.
Hang spent bullet cases from fishing line outside
all the windows of your house.
Put up signs.
Please break in.
I would love the opportunity to kill you legally.

Let the fear turn into desperate anger.
Start seeing the differences in people.
They all start looking suspicious.
They all want.
The need never stops.
Out there, someone is always needing.
Always hungry.
Always looking at you.
Checking your eyes for weakness.
Zeroing in on the vein in your neck.
As they circle the water hole.
And close in.

Narration - Henry Rollins | Bass, guitar, drums - Les Claypool

The Awakening


Drums - Jay Lane | Bass - Les Claypool


There are stories of pleasure, there are stories of pain
But the gods torment me with slabs of rain
It started on a Thursday and went a double fortnight
And Junior read Stern by the pilot light
He ate more cheese than time allowed
So we stood him up sharp, we stood him up proud
And they looked at him funny, but they looked at him twice
Undressing with the eyeballs, verbal lashing him with spice
I speak the truth, I tell no lies
Been masturbatin' since the Fourth of July
Spill the beans, spill 'em all
The precipitation filled Spring from Fall
He didn't like faxes, he didn't like phones
When he stoof among many, he stood alone
He loved his sausage, but shied from greens
Used to spin his little sister in the washin' machine

Vocals - Les Claypool and Adam Gates | Bass, String Bass (Arco), Drums - Les Claypool

George E. Porge

All the time talking 'bout the inspiration
Best leave off about the rhyme
Along comes a boy
He's filled with adulation
Speculates if now is not the time

She was known to take a drop or two
in the morning
Yesterdays and lazy days the same
Will collagen and fingernails
and silicon adorning
All the boys, they knew her all by name

Now he's a sport and she's a sport
and all the world, they love a sport
And if you got the urge, we got the time
Layin' on her side, it makes her melancholy
She speculates if now is not the time

Now baby's breath and orchids are a
lethal combination.
When you get that girl
you got to go
And finger pie in April
leads to penetration...
But June, she's apt to take it kinda slow

HE's born in Beverly Hills but
raised in Albuquerque
All the little girls, they thought him fine
But George E. Porge, he's kissed the girls and
felt he's rather kiss the boys
And speculates if now is not the time

Guitar - Joe Gore | Bass, Drums, Rhythm Guitar, Vocals - Les Claypool

El Sobrante Fortnight

Brimming with all the hopes and desires of American
youth, he set forth as a leader of sorts.  Just what
sorts it is impossiblew to say at this time.  But he had
the imaginary support he needed to venture beyond
the small environment he'd come to know as his
home town.

Friends thought him foolish and felt free to fre-
quently tell him so.  Deep down they all felt envy.
Envious that he could muster, where they could not,
the courage that was necessary to embark beyond
the notion that survival was based upon the ability
to rise at seven a.m. five days a week.

He felt joy.  And well he should.  He was a "babe in
the woods" and a "kid in a candy store" all at the
same time.  The world was his oyster and he planned
to shuck it, cover it with Tabasco, and slurp it down
his cake hole all within an "El Sobrante fortnight".

Definition of an "El Sobrante fortnight" is yet to be
determined.  But reliable sources say the time span is
somewhere between two weeks and a decade.

Guitars - Mike "Mirv" Haggard | Bass, Drums, Vocals - Les Claypool

Granny's Little Yard Gnome

Content to stand alone
Waiting, watching, guarding Granny's home
His face reflecting simple joy
But he is not a happy Plaster boy
"Careful sonny, not too close
Unless you want a lethal dose
of hardening..."
Patiently waiting for some shade
Wishing he could run away
Supressing any urge to roam
Such devotion from a little gnome
I once saw a calico that thought he could fly
ANd then the lanky Doberman that tinkled in my eye
A pacifict by nature, with amble common sense
But if I had my druthers, I'd rather be a fence
Now Granny, she's a good one, she shines me now and then
ANd come around this springtime, I'm due for paint again
On keeping Granny comfy, I try and earn my keep
I'm just wishing I had some eyelids, so I could get some sleep

Bass, Guitar, Drums, Vocals - Les Claypool

Me and Chuck


Guitar - Charlie Hunter | Drums - Jay Lane | Bass - Les Claypool

Carolina Rig


Bass, String Bass (Arco), Drums - Les Claypool


Produced and engineered by Les Claypool.
Assisted by Tim Soya.
Recorded at Rancho Relaxo.
Mastered by Matt Murman at Different Fur.
All songs and lyrics by Les Claypool, Long Corn Publishing (BMI).
Except: The Awakening by The Reddings, Dexotis Music/Band of Angels (BMI).
Delicate Tendris dialogue by Henry Rollins, Human Pittbull Publishing, Inc. (BMI)
from a forthcoming audio book (c) 1996 Henry Rollins/2.13.61 Publications, Inc.
Charlie Hunter appears courtesy of Blue Note Records.
Management: David Lefkowitz, 3470 19th St., San Francisco, CA 94110.
A&R Direction: Tom Whalley.
Project Coordinator: Jill Rose.
Cover Art: Les Claypool.
Design and Layout: PRAWN SONG DESIGNS.
Photos by Miura Smith.
(c) 1996 Interscope Records. All rights reserved. Printed in USA.

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