When I heard the premise of The Desaturating Seven, I started foaming at the mouth – it seems like the perfect concept for a Primus album! Then, when I pulled it up this morning and saw it was only seven tracks long with a few of them breaking the five minute mark, I was expecting an odyssey that made me yearn for the days when I was dropping acid and passing up food in favor of pills.
When I finally got to listen to it today, I learned that Primus has become the musical equivalent of someone who spent their youth gulping down drugs but was forced to grow up: a rambling, boring disappointment whose wild past will probably overshadow whatever they try to do next.
It’s not bad and it’s not good. Eh.
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