There are many types of music on Brown Album, the sixth full-length effort from Primus: bits of funk, jazz-wonk fusion, country gallops and even a touch of Benny Goodman. But a funny thing happens when these grooves go through the Primusizer: They all wind up sounding the same. They become stomps. Military marches. Lurching cartoon music. Galumphing processionals more notable for their robotic persistence than for their musical invention.

Brown Album might best be appreciated as the soundtrack to some strange Dr. Seuss-ian pageant, a parade of R. Crumb oddballs who wander the streets in military formation. It's precisely the type of weirdness that Primus have been peddling for years – progressive-rock instrumentals camouflaged in the tattered rags of punk and the absurdist narratives of a junior Zappa. But in the past, bassist and vocalist Les Claypool and his cronies strove for rhythm patterns that constantly knocked listeners off-balance. This time, they want everybody marching along – how else to explain the rudimentary slap-bass stomp of "Shake Hands With Beef" or the country/fox trot "Puddin' Taine"?

This more accessible cadence does have its benefits. Unlike 1993's relentless Pork Soda, Brown Album moves away from Primus' pet herky-jerky shifts of meter long enough to establish serious, straightforward grooves. "Bob's Party Time Lounge" is a sassy soul-revue sendup that grows more intense with each refrain; "Camelback Cinema" turns on an insistent chanting reminiscent of vintage David Bowie; and "The Chastizing of Renegade" is built on an agitated guitar-and-bass lock that makes Rush sound simple. But even these bright spots are more accomplished than inspired: Happily nonsensical, they're hammering exercises that use the trio's technically flawless execution to cover up its increasingly obvious soul deficit. (RS 766)

TOM MOON