On one hand you have lessons on racial politics, social stigma and the apathy of today's jaded couch potatoes. On the other, you have the guy who gave us "Wynona's Big Brown Beaver," "Highball with the Devil," "Pork Soda" and "Seas of Cheese."

Put them together and you hold Purple Onion (September 24), the solo album from former Primus foot stomper/singer/bass boss Les Claypool. Two years after Primus melted into their own sea of retirement fromage, Claypool has reemerged with a darkly grooving 12-track album that processes his signature nasal delivery with the mega-nutty Fishbone funk/punk sound while tossing in a few issue songs that are damn near political.

"This was really a lot of work," said Claypool recently, as he drove past a truck full of Porta-Potties on his way down to Neil Young's Northern California ranch to hang. "It's the first time I've written material by myself without any consideration of what the other musicians will do."

Claypool said that rather than tailor songs to his bandmates, he was able to create the music and then search for the right players to bring it to life, which he found very liberating. "If a song needed strings, I'd bring in someone to play strings and if I needed to bring in [Gov't Mule's] Warren Haynes, then he could come in and do his thing. And if a song needed three bass players, well ... "

Claypool is particularly proud of "D's Diner," which was recorded live with the above mentioned triple bass line up. Joining him on the sinister track about the spooky diner where "milkshakes flow like wine" are Weapon of Choice bassist Lonnie "Mega-Nut" Marshall and Fishbone bassist Norwood Fisher. The track feels spontaneous because it had to be.

"Me and Norwood have been talking about doing stuff together for years," said Claypool of one of his favorite bass players. "They [Fishbone] happened to be in town one night and I brought them up to my place. We started jamming on the song and I liked it, but I wanted to try the arrangement I'd written. Norwood had passed out, so that was it."

Claypool has hardly been dozing since Primus went on "permanent hiatus" in 2000. Last year his supergroup, Oysterhead, featuring Phish's Trey Anastasio and former Police drummer Stewart Copeland, released their debut and mounted a U.S. tour. He also released a pair of live albums of cover songs with his new side band, the Frog Brigade. That band, which also backs him on the album, features Mike Dillon (vibraphone/percussion), Eenor (guitar), Jay Lane (drums) and Skerik of Critters Buggin' on saxophone.

All of that activity, combined with his placement on bills alongside some of today's most popular jam bands, gave Claypool a new respect and love for his instrument. "That whole jam band scene is a hub for people who really think about how they approach their instruments," said Claypool of bands such as Leftover Salmon and the Disco Biscuits. "My inspiration from that scene was the notion that there are a lot of people interested in seeing me play my instrument and they're not concerned with how baggy my pants are or if I have a red baseball cap turned backwards. It made me get more into my instrument."

In the process, the often-irreverent Claypool also found himself tackling some serious issues. The two-part song "David Makalaster" is a sarcastic commentary on the cynicism of the networks' nightly newscasters. "Here is this guy in his makeup and big white smile, spieling his spiel and saying, 'take it or leave it' because being apathetic is in style these days," he said.

While the first part of the song bounces along in a maniacal amalgamation of Fishbone funk and off-kilter Primus rock, the second half is darker and more foreboding, trading the "apathy is back in style" tagline for "the sh-- has really hit the fan." "The second part is the rebuttal, that post-9/11 feeling that reflected the climate of vengeance we were all feeling at that time," he said. "If anything, those songs reflect the state of the nation more than the state of one individual."

Even more intense is "Ding Dang," which could give Eminem a run for his money in the controversy department. The Frank Zappa-esque jazz/rock song opens with the line, "They used to call him n----- boy when he was but a tyke/ So he grew up to be an angry young man." It goes on to suggest that being called anything from white trash to a liar to f----t can steer you in the direction of poverty, bitterness or even jail if you internalize the insults hurled your way.

"There's that concept that if you use a derogatory word it dilutes its impact," said Claypool, who was inspired to write the song by watching the biographical film of the late boundary-pushing comedian Lenny Bruce. "It's about the effect your peer group can have on you by using different words to describe you."

Although Claypool intended the song to be social commentary on a par with Sly

& the Family Stone's "Don't Call Me N-----, Whitey," he said he was surprised by how offended and jarred even his close friends were. "It amazes me how much people will hear the words and not hear the rest of the song," Claypool said.

Claypool being Claypool, it's, of course, not all doom and drama. There's the goofball hillbilly stomp of "Buzzards of Green Hill," the Tom Waits-like jazz skronk of "Long in the Tooth," the prog-rock goof "Cosmic Highway" and the improvised techno track "Whamola." On the latter, Claypool jams on a one-stringed, futuristic, hand-cranked bass that a fan in Vermont gave him a few years ago. "When you see that song live, no matter who you are, or how cynical you are, that song perks you up," he said.

For now, Claypool said, he's focused on his new music and Primus are in the past. "But," he said, leaving he door open, "I can't imagine we won't play together again."