The spirit of youthful indiscretion surges through Green Naugahyde, Primus’s first release in 12 years, but there’s a palpable sense of hard-earned wisdom amid the gonzo-punk pleather-inspired irreverence. Downtrodden uranium prospectors who sold their souls for donut holes, the last freshwater salmon fisherman in California, and spaghetti western baddie Lee Van Cleef all fall under the razor’s edge of Les Claypool’s penetrating drone. In this fever dream, they’ve migrated away from the seas of cheese, past South Park, and into more brackish territory, raging against the machine of conspicuous consumption, mindless TV, and runaway smack dealers.

Fri., Sept. 30, 8:30 p.m., 2011