Primus, MonoNeon Let Their Freak Flags Fly at The Bomb Factory

Wednesday, July 30, at The Bomb Factory in Dallas was a swirling vortex of sound, color and sheer eccentricity as Primus and MonoNeon delivered a show that was equal parts musical mastery and sensory overload. With basslines so thunderous they could slice through paper and visuals that felt plucked from a fever dream, the night was a celebration of the weird, the wonderful and the wildly talented.

The evening kicked off with MonoNeon, a bassist whose reputation as one of the last musicians to play with Prince precedes him. But if you thought his connection to the Purple One was the most interesting thing about him, think again. Clad in what can only be described as a kaleidoscopic collection of your grandmother’s attic treasures — complete with an afghan ski mask, quilted jacket and handwritten “MonoNeon” stickers plastered across his bass — he was a visual spectacle before he even played a note.

MonoNeon’s set was a grand workshop in funk, jazz and fearless experimentation. His basslines oscillated between tight, Prince-like grooves and otherworldly, string-bending explorations that seemed to defy the laws of music theory. At one point, a cowboy twang snuck into a funk jam, only to be pulled back into the ‘80s by a creeping keyboard line. The crowd, enveloped in a marijuana haze and pure admiration, ate it up. MonoNeon’s ability to push boundaries while keeping the audience engaged was nothing short of remarkable. His set was a 40-minute journey through the outer edges of funk, leaving the crowd primed and ready for the main event. If MonoNeon was the appetizer, Primus was the full-course feast. Primus had us eating a psychedelic gravy and a side of goblin rock. Les Claypool and his bandmates took the stage like interdimensional travelers, bringing with them a sound that felt like it had crawled out of the earth’s core. Claypool, ever the showman, donned a Yankee Doodle get-up, complete with a feathered cap, before swapping it out for a pig mask and, later, a disco ball helmet that turned the venue into a cabaret of light. Primus’ set was a visual and auditory assault in the best possible way. The stage was a canvas for nightmarish cartoons, live footage and surreal animations that looked like they’d been ripped from defensive driving videos and dropped into hell. At one point, the graphics and lights combined to create the illusion of volcanic hellfire raining down on the audience— a fitting backdrop for the band’s distorted, chanty and jammy sound.

The setlist was a mix of fan favorites and deep cuts, with highlights including “My Name Is Mud” and “Tommy the Cat.” The former, with its iconic bassline, had the crowd erupting in unison, while the latter showcased the band’s unparalleled ability to blend technical prowess with sheer weirdness. Watching Claypool play his bass was a spiritual experience, like witnessing a mad scientist at work. His fingers danced across the strings with a precision that was almost otherworldly, conjuring sounds that were both psychedelic and mathy.

The night reached its crescendo during the encore, when MonoNeon returned to the stage for a bass-off with Claypool. It was a meeting of two musical minds, each pushing the other to new heights. The crowd watched in awe as the two bassists traded licks, their instruments speaking a language that only they could understand. It was a fitting end to a night that celebrated the power of the bass in all its forms.

By the time the lights came up, the audience was both exhilarated and exhausted. The sheer volume of sights, sounds, and sensations had been overwhelming, but in the best way possible. Primus and MonoNeon had delivered a show that was as much about the experience as it was about the music. It was a night of freak flags flying high, basslines that shook the walls, and a crowd that was more than happy to get weird.

For those who missed it, let this be a lesson: when these acts come to town, you don’t just attend—you immerse yourself. Because in their world, the only rule is to let the music take you wherever it wants to go.