P, P

“Johnny Depp has a band?”

I’ve heard that question a lot lately. He doesn’t really have a band anymore, no, but he did have one. In fact, he’s had a few bands. I won’t go into their details, but a quick Google search will return a slew of results. Music is Johnny’s first love, apparently — he only got into acting after a band or two of his never got their big break, although P is a slight exception. I remember watching 21 Jumpstreet as a kid; it was a family event, eating around the TV and watching that show. Edward Scissorhands is pretty high up on my list of the greatest films ever made and you can’t deny the power of the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise. I’ve never met anyone who didn’t love the guy, pretty-boy hair and all. There’s got to be someone who hates the guy, though.

Anyone?

P’s self-titled CD is incredibly hip and it feels like a time capsule of a simpler time for party-hard celebrities. It was produced before the Internet and DUIs and rehab stints and sex tapes, originally released way back in 1995. If Gus Van Sant made a film about a drug-infused post-grunge, pre-“alternative” ’90s band, this would be the soundtrack. It’s comparable to quirky, seemingly novelty acts such as King Missile or Marcy Playground or even the Butthole Surfers. One could also compare it to Primus or Green Jelly. There was a nice chunk of ’90s bands with a slightly unique sound and only one big hit to speak of.

P was one of them, I think, only their sole album was well ahead of its time. I can imagine it being released today to a lot of acclaim. It’s a bunch of talented men who recorded a jam session to show everyone how it’s done. The band is Johnny Depp, Gibby Haynes (of Butthole Surfers fame), Sal Jenco, and Bill Carter, who wrote most of the album with his wife. I have no idea who he is except that he’s a friend of Johnny Depp and a fucking weirdo. Flea helps them out a bit; Steve Jones from The Sex Pistols contributes to the effort, too. P was the house band at Johnny Depp’s Viper Room, the club most famous for River Phoenix’s rockstar overdose on the front stoop and P’s timeless death behind the dumpster in the back. P is a snapshot of the death of grunge and a vision of whatever that was that came after grunge, only it’s much more interesting.

So P is an album you’d probably expect musically from Mr. Depp, bluesy and southern. Lyrically, however, this thing is a real surprise. “I Saved Cigarettes” sounds like a Bob Dylan homage or maybe a parody; it’s hard to tell with this band. The vocals on “Zing Splash” are psychedelic and jumbled so the lyrics are incomprehensible, but they seem to mention something about Jimmy Carter and JFK and Marilyn Monroe doing something with Gibby Haynes’s penis. Then there’s “Michael Stipe,” a catchy song full of name-drops like River Phoenix and Sofia Coppola, before anyone knew who she was. The songs are well-written, with clever, intelligent lyrics. And if the lyrics aren’t clever and intelligent, they have a wonderful and vague stream-of-consciousness feel to them. “Deal” is the standout track on P, with the most interesting lyrics. “The Cheeto loogies had attracted worms” and “The mites on Trigger’s Face had killed a cop” are a couple of lines from that one. There’s always “What about the trip that day to the grocery store / What about the lipstick on the dog / What about the retard on the bridge that night / What about the headlights in the fog.” Judging by the lyrics, it’s pretty obvious that Gibby Haynes had something to do with the album.

Each song is weirder and more fascinating than the last. “Mr. Officer” sounds like something the Old 97s would do after smoking a lot of really good pot. “John Glenn” is a dub-stoner song with echoing drums and warped vocals. “Die Anne” is the sole ballad on P, and it reminds me of that “rock a bye” song from a few years back; Shawn Mullins sang it. There’s a cover of “Dancing Queen,” and it would be hilarious if it weren’t such a good song. Gibby’s slurred vocals make me think of him swaggering on a stage with a stiff drink and a cigarette. The cover probably stemmed from a night of drunken karaoke with Johhny Depp and Sofia Coppola or something. Mandolins are scattered throughout the album, and that can never be a bad thing (just ask Shawn Colvin, who doesn’t appear anywhere on the album). “Scraping From Ring” sounds like it was written after a night passed out next to the toilet.

Sadly, P was the only album released by P. Everyone went their separate ways, to the Butthole Surfers and the Red Hot Chili Peppers and to Caribbean pirates and claymation. Johnny has mentioned that there was always a possibility that P would reunite for a second outing, but this was a goof, just a fun project from a few weird dudes. The fact that it was even being recorded was somewhere in the background. Today’s celebrities, with their sex tapes and constant media coverage, could only wish to produce something as interesting and artistic as the total madness this album was. Honestly, I don’t even remember 1995. I was probably calling radio stations requesting Weezer and Hootie and the Blowfish and trying to find my first girlfriend. I can only imagine this album helping me.