FRANK ZAPPA
"Wow man, it's a drag being a rock"
General Rating: 3
ALBUM REVIEWS:
Disclaimer: this page is not written by from the point of view of a Frank Zappa fanatic and is not generally intended for narrow-perspective Frank Zappa fanatics. If you are deeply offended by criticism, non-worshipping approach to your favourite artist, or opinions that do not match your own, do not read any further. If you are not, please consult the guidelines for sending your comments before doing so.
Frank Zappa is the most predictable of all the rock'n'roll dudes on
Earth - in that he's always unpredictable. Independent of what kind of
music he'd been writing lately, you could never foretell the next style
he was going to turn to - doo-wop, boogie-woogie, blues, jazz, classical,
everything seemed to satisfy him as long as he was able to baffle the critics
and the general public for one more time. He could record 'freaked out'
psycho jams with the Mothers of Invention and suddenly insert a perfectly
normal album of doo-wop records among them; produce mock concept albums
that were serious and idiotic at once; envelop himself in jazz and then
suddenly direct a classical orchestra, anything, you name it. His endless
musical output - even in the Eighties, when most of the 'dinosaurs' were
content of releasing one record in two or three years, he managed to spit
out two or three records per year - always bears his brand of experimentalism,
and practically every album, even some of the worst ones, has something
to offer whether you want it or not. On the other hand, Frank's main virtue
is probably his consistency: most of his records have one basic idea running
through them, that of absolute and unlimited freedom of creativity. Zappa's
main goal in life was to prove that art was free, independent, self-sustained
and unboundaried; people who keep complaining about the boredom of some
of his jams, unimaginativeness of his jazz improvisations, smuttiness of
his lyrics and frivolousness of his image should foremost bear in mind
that all of these things were not just due to a crazy mind of a crazy,
talentless persons. On the contrary, Frank Zappa had a lot of talent -
and spent it on pushing 'art' (as he understood it, of course) to
the limits. He liked teasing censorship organisations and the simple-minded
public and hated the music industry and pop business in general - as far
as I know, he was the only (or at least, the most well-known) rock musician
who declined the offer of a Grammy saying that all Grammies are fake. Such
an approach can only be lauded with the highest praise, of course, and
indeed, Frank's work during his almost thirty-year period of activity probably
did the world a much more bigger service than one would normally imagine.
All these years, Frank was like the ultimate test - just by glancing at
a few of his albums you could tell what could be considered art and what
couldn't. His untimely death in 1993 was a really big, big blow to all
freedom-lovers in the world, and since then MTV has ruled the world without
any hinderance...
But there's one problem - Zappa's social status has unquestionably obscured
his real artistic merits. People usually know him by his social activities
and weird shocking moves, like, 'you know, the one with that moustache
and goatee who always keeps fuckin' up'. The actual music that the man
wrote (and I guess that he wrote a lot more than the Beatles and the Stones
put together) somehow goes mostly unnoticed - even when somebody goes around
praising the merits of We're Only In It For The Money, the accent
is usually placed on how it was innovative for its time and how damn well
it condemned the hippie culture, etc., etc., without actually mentioning
a single song from the album. This is certainly not right - yet
this is understandable. Unlike, say, the Beatles, Zappa's music always
served a practical aim - most of the time, he was recording not the kind
of stuff he thought to be good, but the kind of stuff he thought
to be useful, or more exactly, the kind of stuff he thought was
controversial and contradicted every kind of currently dominating cultural
patterns. This, in my opinion, makes Zappa more of a philosopher and culturologist
than a musician - even if he did play the guitar quite well and
wrote a fair share of decent, sometimes even great melodies. Sometimes
he would even drop all of his pretentions and proceed to record a one hundred
percent 'musical' album that was so totally free of any 'conutercultural'
content you wouldn't believe it was Zappa at all (Cruising With Ruben
And The Jets or Shut Up 'n' Play Your Guitar are among the most
obvious examples). But the exceptions only further confirm the rule: these
albums are never taken as serious art statements, rather like some more
in an endless series of mystifications and cultural puzzles.
The statement being made, I proudly award Frank Zappa a rating of 'three'
- not too bad, in my opinion, seeing as, like I said, Zappa is more of
an ideological guru than a musician. The Beatles and the Stones, for example,
had all of Zappa's ideology, but added to it some real artistic creativity
without looking back at the 'obsolete' patterns they needed to replace
- they just worked on and created real, truly independent and timeless
art. Unfortunately, Frank's art is, to a rather large extent, dated - just
because it was all directed at that current day's needs and nothing else.
That said, Zappa is still quite good. He's diverse (more diverse than the
Beatles, in fact), he's intelligent, he has an unmatched sense of humor,
a talent in selecting backup bands and musicians, and a skilled guitar
playing style. What else would you want?
I must warn everybody, though, that my Zappa collection is far from complete
(which is not a serious crime, though - it took seven reviewers
on the Mark Prindle page to put together a decent Zappa page that still
looks a horrible mess due to major contradictions in people's opinions,
and even so it is not thoroughly complete: I have a whole twelve
Zappa records, for instance, that still aren't reviewed there). Currently
I already possess thirty-eight Zappa albums, but I'm still missing
many high (and even more low) points. But be ensured that I'm trying to
lay my hands on any Zappa album I can find, and the page is bound to grow!
Meanwhile, mail your comments, everybody!
P.S. The page is now split in two halves for downloading convenience; 'frank.htm'
includes reviews of Zappa's albums up to 1976, 'frank1.htm' deals with
his later work. You can get access to the later parts of the catalog by
following links from the table of contents or by following the link at
the bottom of this page.
What do YOU think about Frank Zappa? Mail your ideas
Your worthy comments:
<DWARFNEBULA@aol.com> (14.02.2000)
I see what you're saying about how Frank Zappa was "dated"... how his satirical stabs at the musical trends of the day sort of locked him into the very time periods he was mocking. That's an interesting point, granted. But on a scale of one to five, I still personally think Zappa deserves a ten. Sure, The Beatles and The Stones were (in their own way) musical innovators, but remember that a lot of less innovative bands in the 60's imitated the Beatles and The Stones with great commercial success (not to mention all the Led Zep and Elton John rip-offs of the 70's). But I've never heard of anyone who even came close to imitating Frank Zappa. I doubt that even 1% of the 20th century's most "successful" rock groups could even understand Zappa, then or now. He was a true original.
Jeff Blehar <jdb3@jhu.edu> (23.02.2000)
I can see both by your collection of Zappa records and by your comments
on his discs that you're not a true hard-core Zappaphile, George. And that's
actually a very good thing, because the hardcore Zappa fans often make
excuses for albums that aren't really good (for example, even though I
like The Yellow Shark, your - perfectly acceptable - trashing of
it would never have been done by a hardcore fan). I'm only mentioning this
because Zappa's the kind of artist that doesn't produce very many "middle-of-the-road"
fans; you're either turned off by almost all of the guy's work or you'd
follow him off a cliff. Me, I tend more towards the second type, but I
try to recognize his faults - for example, I find the sexism and vulgarity
in his lyrics far more difficult to tolerate than you do, and thus I prefer
his early works to his later stuff with a few exceptions.
The only other thing I want to mention here at the beginning is something
I don't recall coming up anywhere else, and it's what unites Zappa's entire
oeuvre (or so he'd claim): Conceptual Continuity. This was Zappa's idea
that his ENTIRE recorded (and live, for that matter) works were just part
one large piece of music, part of the "output macrostructure,"
as he called it. He was obsessed with banishing time (thus his constant
intechanging of live bands and performances on the You Can't To That
On Stage Anymore series, or the concept of xenochronous guitar solos
on Joe's Garage), and redefining the concept of music - thus he
really HAS worked all sorts of interesting cross-referencing into all his
material, ranging from the first album to the last. It's not a concept
that would stand up to scientific scrutiny, but the idea behind it is intriguing,
and it's an admirable attempt to force the listener not to think in terms
of mere "songs" or even "albums," but on a much larger
scale. Look around on the album cover art, lyrics, musical instrumentations,
etc. All sorts of little references will pop up.
<LBeastski@aol.com> (08.05.2000)
Your rating of Zappa should be a 5 . Zappa was moe talented , more versitle
and more creative than any other musician/composer in this century . He
by far wrote more awesome tunes than The Beatles , Bob Dylan , The Sotnes
, and even Led zeppelin . He could paly any style at anytime with ease
. He did not veiw himself as a guitarist but ad a composer instead . To
say that his music is timed is nuts also , anyone who can appreciate the
complexety of his music will listen to it forever . As for being a guitarist
he was the best and fastest . As a vocalist he was good he had a voice
that contrasted the high screaching voices of the time , anyway I just
want to say that he flat out was the best , and so were all of his misicians
all vrituoso's of the instruments taht they palyed . Patrick O'Hearn could
out do John Paul Jones or John Entwhistle any time . Chad Whackerman was
a far better drummer than John Bonham . I cuold make a list like this all
night . I think you need to give Zappa a better chance than you give him
.
[Special author note: one little
side remark. I can't imagine Frank Zappa writing a song like 'Imagine'
or 'Sad-Eyed Lady Of The Lowlands'. And that's why he'll never get more
than a three, much as I agree with a lot of what's written in this comment.]
Philip Maddox <slurmsmckenzie@hotmail.com> (24.06.2000)
I agree with your 3. The man wrote some absolutely great stuff throughout the course of his career, of course. I love Hot Rats and Money to death, especially. His lyrics could also be very biting - You Are What You Is, in particular, is great. However, he did have problems. Sometimes he got so wrapped up in the message that he forgot to compose good music to go along with it (some of Joe's Garage can draaaaaag). Also, he liked to go out into spaced out avant-garde material that totally leaves me cold. I like most of Weasels Ripped My Flesh and I LOVE the jams at the end of Freak Out, but stuff like The Yellow Shark and Lumpy Gravy totally puts me to sleep. And even though his lyrics were great for the most part, sometimes I get the feeling that he was attacking people just because they weren't him (he really trashes gays and women in more than one instance). His earlier lyrics, like those on Money, were much better if you ask me. Still, his work was easily good enough to be worth a 3. I have about 20 Zappa records - I think I've pretty much got the gist of him. But then again, you never know. It is Zappa we're talkin' about.
Year Of Release: 1966
Record rating = 10
Overall rating = 13
Want to define 'genius'? Well, you could build up a good case around
this album.
Best song: TROUBLE EVERY DAY
It seems that before Frank Zappa first stepped on the threshold of a
recording studio, he was already well-decided that his first album would
be better than anything previously recorded - more intelligent, more innovative
and explorative, more spaced out, more professional and more catchy. And,
well, even if I can't really say that he achieved all these goals completely,
he came really really close. Freak Out! is an album that preceded
its time - were it recorded somewhere in 1967, it would have passed just
as another groovy record of the Summer of Love (although it really has
nothing to do with the Summer of Love), but in July 1966 nobody was prepared
for anything like this - not even the Beatles or Bob Dylan dared to venture
that far into studio tricks and musical/sonic exploration.
Now before I start raving and rambling all over the place like some bad-flavoured
generic critic, let me just state this album's main weakness. No, it is
not the boringness of the 'psychedelic' part, as one might think
- I'll deal with this later. It is the fact that Zappa isn't really a great
songwriter, at least wasn't at this point in his career. The melodies
on this album are for the most part generic, usually following some pattern
or other, be it overabused blues riffs or cliched pop harmonies: no new
ground is broken in that sense of the word. (If you don't get my
drift, compare 'It Can't Happen Here' with 'Tomorrow Never Knows': where
Zappa never went before sound collages, the Beatles invented a new musical
genre). But that doesn't mean they aren't enjoyable - they are, and oh
how...
Frank's strong points lie in totally different parts o' the world. So the
first part of the record might seem disposable at first listen, if you
don't listen too closely: eleven short pop songs, most of them love ones
with rather simple titles like 'How Could I Be Such A Fool' or 'You Didn't
Try To Call' or, well, 'I'm Not Satisfied'. But hey, is this really your
average pop music? Not at all, kind sir. See, the album wasn't called Freak
Out! for nothing. All of these numbers have got something groovey going
- be it hilarious, parodic lyrics, weird screamfests or almost ridiculously
strained, horrendous vocal stunts (just listen to these 'YEEEEEEEAH's in
'You're Probably Wondering Why I'm Here'!) But that's not all. Don't think
that you've got Frank Zappa by the tail if you really think the album's
about freaking out. No, he takes you on another level of intelligence:
the album is, in fact, a grand parody on everything. The weirdness
that Zappa achieves is all sarcastic, ironic weirdness - he ridiculizes
the very existence of pop music by songs like 'Go Cry On Somebody Else's
Shoulders'. Now you see why I'm not so distressed by Frank's lack of melodical
innovations: he borrows classic melodies and makes fools of their composers
as well as of everybody and everything else. I find myself so caught up
in this grooviness and his flashy signs of wit and intelligence that I
almost do not notice the bad sides. Personal favourites include 'Wowie
Zowie', a super-stupid (anti)-pop anthem (with lyrics like 'I don't even
care if your dad's the heat') and 'Motherly Love' where Frank cleverly
uses his band's name ('forget about the brotherly and otherly love'). People
usually prefer the somewhat spooky tunes that lead off the album, like
the famous 'Who Are The Brain Police?', but to me they sound a little clumsy
- this is where Frank actually tried to write some original melodies and
failed. (Yet 'Hungry Freaks, Daddy' gotta be one of the most menacing and
hard-hitting counter-culture anthems ever recorded).
The first part ends, and then comes the best track - the song that links
the first part with the second, the bluesy, growling 'Trouble Every Day'
where Frank showcases every side of him and the band that's good: he comes
up with an endless set of society-bashing, 'freaked-out' lyrics that he
shoots off at lightning speed over a magnificent harmonica/stinging guitar
backing, and the amount of energy he puts into the recording is unequalled
by any other tracks. It's very Dylanish, in some respects, and yet it has
a kind of hard-rock aggressiveness that Dylan never possessed. Putting
real brains into hard rock - well, that's a treat rarely done by any other
performers.
Now the second part of the album is what causes most controversy. Certainly
unparalleled at the time of recording, this twenty-minute sound collage
is the first experiment with 'psychedelic grooving' that was later taken
on by hundreds and hundreds of bands. What it consists of is a monotonous
wank-a-thon called 'Help I'm A Rock' where they basically just don't do
nothing but sing help I'm a rock, a bunch of a capella noises called 'It
Can Happen Here' and a spacey, totally 'freaked out' instrumental jam ('The
Return Of The Son Of The Monster Magnet', which can be seen as a blueprint
for the Stones' 'Sing This All Together'). Well, it sure does sound dated
now, that's natural. But still, I can't resist saying that it's a lot of
good fun. That jam does tend to get overlong, but not very much, and Frank
and the band tend to enliven it with goofy, ridiculous noises, patches
of dialogue, conversations with an invented female character called Suzy
Creamcheese, and occasionally there's a silly joke or two that will get
into your head for all eternity (my favourite is 'America's wonderful!
Wonderfulwonderfulwonderfulwonderful...', you know what I mean). So, even
if there's absolutely no need to listen to this every now and then, it
can make a good laugh from time to time, and this is just what you may
need at certain points in your life.
In all, the one thing I might state about Frank Zappa in 1966 is that he
started his artistic career being already fully grown-up. Yes, it already
is the nihilistic, sarcastic, ridiculous, and nastily fucked-up
Frank Zappa that everybody knows, and what he does is make a very loud
and memorable statement about this. This is the image he had ever since.
Everything else was just minor variations on the main subject. Oh, and
by the way - I checked out the All-Music Guide for band credits (they aren't
listed on my CD) and it said this line-up of The Mothers of Invention featured
Adrian Belew!! I was so glad! Then, of course, Dan Watkins was kind enough
to send in his comments and correct me. Well, I just say: never trust the
All-Music Guide!!! DON'T YOU EVEN TRY!!!
I'm not satisfied that you still haven't mailed your ideas
Your worthy comments:
Dan Watkins <dan_watkins@hotmail.com> (21.07.99)
Being the Zappa freak I am, I thought I should add some comments. While
I agree that the album is absolutely fantastic, I think Frank's best work
was yet to come. Everyone talks about Sgt. Pepper as being one of
the most experimental albums ever. But what about Freak Out? Who
but Frank Zappa had the nerve to release such an UGLY album at a time when
you heard stuff like the Beach Boys on the radio? That's what's odd about
the album. Take a listen to the first LP. Yeah, there's some daring stuff
on there, but a lot of it is pretty standard 60's pop. Now listen to the
strange, strange second LP. It kind of makes you hard to believe that the
two records are by the same band. Zappa's musical style may not have been
fully developed by this time, but Frank's sneer is all over the record.
Even the poppy love tunes are loaded with Zappa's sarcasm. I'd give it
a 9/10 simply because as I said, Zappa's best works were yet to come. Just
check out We're Only In It For The Money and Uncle Meat for
some cool experimentation. Freak Out does sound a bit dated today,
but how can you be hard on the first double rock LP and one of the first
concept albums?
By the way, Adrian Belew was not in this band line up. He played with Zappa
in '77 and '78.
Mike DeFabio <defab4@earthlink.net> (28.07.99)
I, I think you've pretty much hit the mark here, so I won't say much,
just my agreement, and that I always thought the line in 'Wowie Zowie'
was "I don't even care if your dad's a he." Now that I know the
real line I realize that "I don't even care if your dad's a he"
is a pretty stupid line. And there are no stupid lines on Freak Out!
Only brilliant ones.
End!
Ben Greenstein <bgreenstein@nctimes.net> (18.08.99)
Has anybody actually listened to this album? I love Zappa, but this
stuff just doesn't strike me as being innovative at all. Aside from the
sound collages, which sound really fresh but are also really stupid and
boring. But besides those, nearly every single song sounds the same - a
simple throwback to 50's doo-wop.
That being said, there are a bunch of songs that I really like. "Trouble
Every Day," for one, is a great blues rocker which I find only slightly
boring, "Hungry Freaks, Daddy" could have used some better vocals
and more wierd sound effects, but is still pretty enjoyable, and "Who
Are The Brain Police?" is a hideous abomination that still manages
to be more unique than any other track. And some of the poppers, like "I
Ain't Got No Heart" and "Motherly Love" are incredibly fun
and catchy.
But a masterpiece? No, a bunch of cliched and at times unlistenable doo-wop
that one should not need to hear. Zappa's best work was yet to come, despite
what the idiots at Rolling "first album is always best" Stone
would have you believe. Too little distinctive material gets a low score
from me.
Ben Greenstein <bgreenstein@nctimes.net> (25.09.99)
Wow! Was I ever wrong this time! My first impression was that it was both derivative and ugly, niether of which are ideas I can even fathom now. Well, in all honesty, I still don't see how any of the tunes on the first side are groundbreaking - most of them are still simple sixties pop - but they ain't ugly! The melodies for "Hungry Freaks" and "Brain Police" are a little odd, but I like them! Really! And "Motherly Love," the "body commercial" for the band, is hilarious! Not his funniest, but good enough in theory to be likeable. I realize now what an idiot I was for condeming this - it's pretty dang fun! I'd give it an eight.
Jeff Blehar <jdb3@jhu.edu> (23.02.2000)
The first double album ever, for the record. Beat Blonde On Blonde
by a few months. It's not better than that album (but then what is, really?),
but it's really, really stunning (actually, Jeff isn't quite
right here - Frank's album came out in July, and Dylan's in May - G.S.).
Ben's right in saying that *musically* much of the stuff on the first disc
isn't groundbreaking. But some of it WAS - listen to "Who Are The
Brain Police?" and tell me that section where the music just *snaps*
off into a screaming "freak-out" isn't startling as all hell.
To our modern ears that's not TOO shocking, and I didn't notice it the
first time 'round since I came to Freak Out! through We're Only
In It For The Money (which is trillion times more disjunctive), but
imagine what kids buying that album raised on The Beatles and their sub-pop
imitators must have thought back then? What does make the ostensibly "straight"
stuff on the first disc groundbreaking is their tone: never before had
anyone pulled such an open pisstake on modern rock and pop. Of the songs,
only three I can count are serious, my three favorites: the opener "Hungry
Freaks, Daddy" (which brilliantly rips off The Rolling Stones' "Satisfaction"
by copying not the RIFF, but the TONE), "Brain Police," and the
best one, "You're Probably Wondering Why I'm Here." That last
one serves as a comment on the rest of the songs. See, here comes ugly
Mr. Frank Zappa, with his talk of hideous people and "freaking-out"
on the inner sleeve, and thus far he's pretty much presented us with...pop
songs? DOO WOP? With tongue completely in cheek, yes, but genre exercises
nonetheless. So then he stops the whole charade and talks to us, saying
"you're probably wondering why I'm here, and so am I," going
on to insult us, the listeners, completely. Then he sheds his skin, and
BOOM, it's "Trouble Every Day." (by the way, I'd argue this is
the first rock concept album, too - Paul McCartney tacitly agreed, calling
Sgt. Pepper's "our Freak Out!") After that, the insanity
of "Help, I'm A Rock," one of those songs whose title you find
yourself muttering underneath your breath at odd times, and "Monster
Magnet," which I quite unabashedly love. Yes, I LOVE avant-garde noise,
I must admit, but it has to be done right. This is. And yet, not a 10.
Because some of those pop songs are fairly insubstantial. But a high, high
9.
Rich Bunnell <taosterman@yahoo.com> (14.06.2000)
A ten? You're darn right it's a ten! The first twelve songs are really catchy with excellent production (it sounds like a more well-produced version of the Animals with goofier vocals), and I especially love the Johnson administration-bashing rockers like "Hungry Freaks, Daddy" and "Trouble Every Day." The catchiest song is "Motherly Love," but pretty much every song out of the first twelve stands up on its own. As for the sound collages, they do get pretty stupid at points, but I can't resist hearing Zappa chant "Help, I'm a rock! Help, I'm a rock!" Additionally, does it scare the crap out of anyone else that the first five or so minutes of "Monster Magnet" features a shuffling dancebeat that sounds straight out of the '90s?! It's like Zappa had a time machine or something!! Like I said, a ten. A TEN.
Philip Maddox <slurmsmckenzie@hotmail.com> (25.06.2000)
Hmmm... well, this was the first Zappa album I ever bought (on your
recommendation, of course), and though I don't think it's worth a ten,
it certainly comes close. The opening 12 tracks are all at least pretty
good. Some of them ('Trouble Every Day', 'Wowie Zowie', and 'Who Are the
Brain Police?' in particular) are even great! However, even with the zany
parody lyrics, a lot of these songs just sound a little too generic. They're
still good, of course, but nowhere near as good as the complete hodgepodge
of genres on albums like Money. That being said, the lyrics on this album
are definitely both far reaching and ahead of their time. 'Trouble Every
Day' is my favorite example of the perfect combination of music and lyrics
- the tune is a great, genuinely rockin' protest song that bashes racists,
television, favoritism, and lots of other less-than-noble things. It's
quite possibly the best song Zappa ever did (and that's no small feat!).
The teen-love parody lyrics on 'Go Cry on Somebody Else's Shoulders' are
a hoot (my favorite lyrics are "I gave you my high school ring/at
the root beer stand/we had a teenage love, baby"). So are all the
lyrics here. This is still a very strong record even without the funny
lyrics. They're just the icing on the cake, if I may use that cliche.
Now, about the second half (actually, the last third). Some people think
that the experiments here drag the record down. I'm not a huge fan of experimental
Zappa, but I LOVE this part! All of the songs have an actual groove going
on, so you can nod your head to the beat while Zappa and the Mothers go
nuts. 'Help! I'm A Rock!' has got the best psychedelic lyrics of all time
("Man, it's a drag being a rock" is my favorite). 'The Return
of the Son of Monster Magnet' is great, too. Funny voices and noise scream
all over the place, keeping you very entertained. And even though it lasts
12 minutes, I never get sick of it. It could easily go on for a little
longer and I wouldn't care a bit.
Anyway, George, you're right on about this record. On second consideration,
this record might even be worth a low 10 from me. Either a high 9 or low
10 will do. Get this record now. It's better than Lumpy Gravy, I
tell ya!
Mike DeFabio <defab4@earthlink.net> (15.09.2000)
Hey, you know what? Bunnell's right! "Monster Magnet"'s a techno song! How about that? This album is quickly becoming my most listened to Zappa album. I don't know why. The songs are just so good. There are so many wonderful moments... the spoken word passages during the fade outs to 'Go Cry On Somebody Else's Shoulder' and 'You Didn't Try To Call Me'; The rant at the end of 'Help I'm A Rock'; The "YEEEEEEEAH"s in 'I'm Not Satisfied'; The "Mom, I tore a big hole in the convertible" part in 'You're Probably Wondering Why I'm Here'; All of 'Trouble Every Day'. This is an album to get, folks.
Year Of Release: 1967
Record rating = 8
Overall rating = 11
Tons of historical importance here, but too much melody sacrificed
in favour of nonsense and parody.
Best song: BROWN SHOES DON'T MAKE IT
From what I've read, I s'ppose I'm one of the few, really few Zappa
listeners who aren't willing to rate this album above its immediate predecessor,
Freak Out!, that is. The usual argument in this case is that the
former was just a wee bit too much doo-woppy and derivative to be
a true masterpiece, while Absolutely Free justifies its title by
pushing that 'freaked out' type of sound that Zappa initiated in 1966 to
its absolute limits.
The argument is perfectly valid. The problem, though, is whether your tastes
make you prefer derivative doo-wop or the trademark Mothers of Invention
freaking out. No, wait, don't answer that. Of course nobody would
(at least, nobody should) prefer Doo-Wop to Freak-Out. But the thing
that I loved so much about Freak Out! was that Frank never separated
these two 'genres' - except for the 'psychedelic' jams at the end of the
record, all the other songs are a fruitful mess where it is sometimes hard
to distinguish parody from sincerity which makes it all the more fun.
However, on Absolutely Free Frank definitely went overboard with
the 'freak-out' groove. The album actually consists of two so-called 'oratorios'
- one depicting the life of vegetables and the other depicting the life
of an average member of the American society (some kind of analogy,
eh?) Both are exceedingly funny and entertaining, but only at certain moments.
Basically, when I heard this for the first time I hated it. When I heard
this for the second time I loved it. When I heard this for the third time,
I just felt kinda disappointed, like 'all right, so what of it?'
To be more precise, at first one really loses one's way through this mess
- the vegetable suite is so ridiculously clumsy, with stretches of good
melody running throughout all of it but often falling apart to reveal 'horrendous'
screamfeasts and other excesses, until suddenly the totally stupid combination
of doo-wop and hysteria ('The Duke Of Prunes') gives way to an even more
stupid guitar jam ('Invocation & Ritual Dance Of The Young Pumpkin',
with Frank adding generic fast R'n'B/jazzy soloing a la Ten Years After).
The second 'mess' is even messier, culminating in the multi-part, all-genre-synthesizing
'Brown Shoes Don't Make It' that looks like Frank taking half a dozen doo-wop
tunes, ripping them to shreds and gluing some of these shreds to one another
in no special order.
Take a deeper insight, however, and you'll see that, like Freak Out!,
this mess boasts at least one redeeming quality - it's an entertaining
mess. The lyrics are undeniably great throughout, ranging from pure, undiluted
nonsense ('call any vegetable and the chances are good that it'll respond'),
to witty social commentary a little in the vein of Dylan's 'Subterranean
Homesick Blues': fast, incoherent remarks that usually hit the nail on
the head ('be a loyal plastic robot/for a world that doesn't care', 'TV
dinner by the pool/I'm so glad I've finished school/Life is such a ball/I
run the world/From City Hall', all from 'Brown Shoes'). The noises are
funny, and there is even a comical return of an old imagined character
('Son Of Suzy Creamcheese'). And when the melodies are solid, they are
solid - like on the groovy shuffle 'Status Back Baby' or the 'normal' part
of 'Plastic People' (that opens the album on a high and certainly unprecedented
note - 'Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States! (drumroll)').
Not to mention such things as the album cover, liner notes and track names,
the proper absorption of which could take you hours - after all, nobody
but Frank paid such a great lot of attention to conceptuality at the time
(down with Sgt Pepper again!!!)
Some people stop right here, at this second impression. However, I couldn't
really have followed their examples - after all, I put this record on searching
for music, and what I find isn't able to satisfy my quest. No way.
I do admit the record's greatness in the way that it snapped up the whole
music thing and cracked this kind of art's possibilities open in a way
that few other records could at the time. But, to my opinion, this is not
the kind of album that ages well. Yeah, it ain't no 'hippie crap music'
like Jefferson Airplane (whose contemporary albums thrill me much more,
by the way), but it shares the same flaw: it relies on experimentation
and spontaneous 'illumination' rather than well-thought out melodies. It's
even more sad that Frank was really capable of much, much more than that
(as demonstrated amply by Freak Out!), but he preferred (to my mind)
the easier way - yeah, I'm one hundred percent sure that recording this
album was a much less difficult process (at least, creatively) than recording
Freak Out!. As it is, I wouldn't really want this album on my turntable
any time of day, though sometimes it might make a good listen (especially
if you want to shock your best friend without showing signs of bad taste
like in the case of a late Seventies' Alice Cooper record. Hey, wasn't
Alice Cooper an alumnus of Zappa too? Talk about bad manners!).
But never mind my critiques if you're a Zappa freak and are about to flame
me for blasphemy - I probably love the record as much as you do, only I'm
willing to take an unbiased look at it. To soften the blow, I'll say that
the two 'bonus tracks' inserted in between the 'oratorios' are some of
the best (although derivative as hell, too) material Zappa'd committed
to tape by that time: 'Big Leg Emma' is that kind of grooviest parody on...
hell, I don't even know what kind of genre it is he's parodying? Country?
Ragtime? Who cares? 'There's a big dilemma about my big leg Emma', in fact.
And my favourite is the gritty, heavy R'n'B number 'Why Don'tcha Do Me
Right?', highlights including a monstruous heavy bass riff that drives
the song forward (let us make Frank the father of heavy metal, too!) and
Frank's vocals that are just downright scary. Also, closing the album with
the loungy 'America Drinks & Goes Home' was a brilliant move - the
song is (a) the epithomy of parody, (b) the epithomy of drunken chaos and
mad orgy, (c) downright funny and relaxing. Not to mention that it inspired
the Stones for 'On With The Show', without any doubt.
Oh! And I almost forgot to mention that 'Brown Shoes Don't Make It' mark
the beginnings of Frank's dirty sexual jokes - just listen to that passage
about the 'dream of a girl about thirteen' who 'tickles his fancy all night
long'. If you're a collectioner of Frank's Revolutionary Lyrical moments,
this is your first buy!!!
Why don'tcha do me right and mail your ideas?
Your worthy comments:
Dan Watkins <dan watkins@hotmail.com> (28.07.99)
I pretty much agree with you on this one. It's not as good as Freak Out, but I love the guitar jam on side one! I love 'Brown Shoes Don't Make It'. Really there isn't a song on the album I don't enjoy, but it's just not quite as charming as Freak Out for some reason. This was, however, one of the first albums to integrate rock with classical music. Stravinsky musical quotes are even present on side one. Not an essential album, but it's not bad.
Ben Greenstein <bgreenstein@nctimes.net> (06.09.99)
Well, I haven't listened to it very much, but here's my opinion so far.
I disagree! While it's true that they went overboard with the "wierd"
aspect of it, the songs are a whole lot more creative and sophisticated,
especially the epic "Brown Shoes Don't Make It." The melodies
are still really, really ugly, but this time around, the tunes are wierd
enough to be considered "sort of ugly expirimental stuff," and
not "ugly pop music," like the first album.
"Plastic People," for me, is the centerpiece. You have to be
a really open minded person to enjoy this song - otherwise, you'll notice
that it's disjointed and not fluid at all. But you're a smarty like me,
you'll realize that therein lies its charm! The chorus is so awfully unnapealing
that you can't help but like it - great song. Of course, if you think that
that one is disjointed, wait until you hear the rest of the album.
Overall, it sort of strikes me as a more musical version of that Lumpy
Gravy type stuff -a seamless flow of noises, some of which are actual
songs, others being odd guitar jams and silly sound effects. I'd agree
on the 8 rating (maybe higher in the future!), but still disagree that
Freak Out is better.
Jeff Blehar <jdb3@jhu.edu> (23.02.2000)
From the first seconds I heard of Absolutely Free, it screamed
"WINNER!" to me all over, and a few years down the road it's
as strong as it ever was. In fact, this album inaugurated a streak of perfect
10 Mothers albums for me: Absolutely Free, We're Only In It For
The Money, and Uncle Meat. (Am I counting Ruben? No,
for strange personal reasons...). I simply cannot see your complaint about
the lack of melody on this album; if anything, it remains such a favorite
of mine due to its really amazing surplus of GREAT melodies. And not "unique"
but really "unpleasant" melodies - I really hate it when people
talk about some artist's melodic originality without remembering that the
melodies have to SOUND good to BE good - but melodies which are insanely
catchy. My comments especially point towards the second Oratorio, which
I think is actually pretty damn well organized, both beginning and ending
on a unifying theme and holding a consistent tone (the attack on bourgeois
suburban culture) throughout. The lyrics are great, great, GREAT, especially
the rhythm of them, but it wouldn't matter much if the music wasn't as
indelible as it is. I'll take my personal favorite, "Uncle Bernie's
Farm" as an example. I find the melody of the verses to be unforgettable
(around the lines "there's a doll that looks like daddy, he's a funny
little man"), but then it swings into that fantabulous middle eight
where it becomes, for all intents and purposes, a different song: "We
gotta send Santa Claus back to the rescue mission..." And when it
spirals upwards for the "murder and destruction" line and back
down into the fray of the verses again, it's a classic moment. I was talking
about the RHYTHM of the words, before, and when Zappa throws in a carefully
choreographed "y'think this'll sell in New York?-There's a man who
runs the country" right afterwards, all I can do is just get really
excited in a nonverbal sorta way and twitter about the room with a happy
grin, since words can't describe the thrills I get.
But that's just one song. Anyway, the whole damn album is like that for
me. I haven't even mentioned the hilarity of "Call Any Vegetable"
and its "Soft-Sell Conclusion" ("soon...a new rapport...you
and your new little green and yellow grooving together...maintaining your
cool together...worshipping together in the church of your choice")
or the poppiness of "Status Back Baby," which in an alternate
dimension could have gone to the upper reaches of the pop charts, or the
magnum opus of "Brown Shoes Don't Make It," or...aw hell. It's
ALL good. Just go buy it! Now! Honestly, I can no longer imagine a time
in my life when I didn't have this album. Absolutely Free is a 10/10,
with utterly no reservations, and really, it oughta get a 15/15 even if
Zappa only gets a 4 from you.
Wipqmio Emizo <fiber_optiqREMOVETHIS@yahoo.com> (13.04.2000)
I like this album a lot. Its ugliness is beautiful. Although, unlike Money, the music probably wouldn't fare too well without the lyrics (especially since most of the Mothers can't sing), you can't help but admit that it's interesting. In particular, the contrast between "America Drinks and Goes Home"'s lounge-parody style and the clipped, harsh variation, "America Drinks", is fascinating. Also, one part of "Brown Shoes Don't Make It' ("We see... in the back.... of the ci-ty hall miiiind...") is very similar in style to Arnold Schoenberg's "Pierrot Lunaire," and uses the same half-sung, half-spoken "Sprechstimme" ("speech-voice") technique. It's brilliant. Oh, and by the way, "Plastic People" is a parody of "Louie Louie."
Philip Maddox <slurmsmckenzie@hotmail.com> (25.06.2000)
I'd either give this a 7 or an 8, depending on how I feel. This is a record I really have to be in the mood for to enjoy. Otherwise, it just kinda annoys me. But when I'm in the right mood for it, it's really good. Not as good as Freak Out, or course, but still good. The reason this isn't as good as Freak Out isn't the lyrics - I think they're as good as ever - it's because some of the tunes have no point other than to make you laugh. And they do make you laugh. This is one of Zappa's funniest records. And even though the tunes aren't bad, none of them really stand out. The whole record just sounds like one big blur. The two bonus tracks in the middle are the exceptions, of course, because they weren't intended to be on this record and they sound nothing like the material that bookends them. They're pretty good, but nothing spectacular - they just sound like Freak Out outtakes. This is still a good record, and I recommend it if you're into Zappa at all. Just don't expect brilliant music to go along with the brilliant lyrics. If you want that, please proceed to We're Only in it for the Money.
Year Of Release: 1968
Maybe even more historical importance here... but this ain't
music, and it can't be subject to more than a couple listens in your whole
life.
Best song: well, LUMPY GRAVY (????!!!!)
I refuse to give a rating to this record (like I did with George Harrison's
Electronic Sound), simply because
I rate albums with musical compositions, while this is definitely
not qualified to pretend to be a musical composition - I mean, there are
bits and pieces of music on here, but they only act as one of the many
diverse components of the whole 'experience'. Apparently, Frank was getting
more and more ambitious in the studio - he'd ventured into unlimited experimentalism
on Freak Out!, beat his own record on Absolutely Free and
decided that the limits were still far from being transgressed. On Lumpy
Gravy, a rather short (mercifully) album credited exclusively to Frank
and not to the Mothers of Invention (guess he didn't want to spoil
the band's reputation that much), there are certainly no limits.
Basically, the record consists of two 15-minute 'suites' filled to the
brim with (a) short musical fragments, ranging from one and a half/two
minutes long to tiny snippets that swap each other at lightning speed;
(b) loads of noises produced by every object capable of noise-making on
this planet, and probably on several others as well; (c) short snatches
of dialog between Frank's pals and colleagues, usually on completely esoteric
or nonsensic topics.
If you're that kind of freak who adores listening to crazyass dated
experimental albums, you might just as well get your kicks out of listening
to this mess. The aim of the record is obvious, of course: testing the
limits of the studio and trying to baffle all the musical society as much
as possible, nothing else. Don't go telling me that this is a serious work
of art - it has no overall message; instead, let me tell you that it has
at least a couple of redeeming qualities. First, quite unlike the above-mentioned
Electronic Sound, the album is actually listenable - the first several
spins you give it are quite rewarding, just because the 'suites' are divided
into numerous tiny sections that have totally nothing to do with each other,
and it's a little intriguing to see what happens next - a funny bit of
doo-wop goes into somebody named 'Motorhead' telling about his automobile
problems before going off into an atonal jam section before re-emerging
to inform you about 'white ugliness' and how it bites you before giving
you some headache by means of distorted violins, etc., etc. - Zappa was
clearly a master of making an experimental album sound inviting,
without giving you 20-minute symphonies of synthesizer feedback or 20-minute
calls-and-answers of 'John!' and 'Yoko!' or something like that. And if
you're patient enough to sit through to the very end, you'll be awarded
the prize purse: a short, but thoroughly beautiful instrumental version
of 'Take Off Your Clothes' that would soon be released on We're Only
In It... - the only serious musical composition on the album. To be
quite honest, some other musical bits here are quite pretty as well (the
'Oh No' part, for instance), but they're much more densely shoved into
the background, if you know what I mean.
Some of the dialogs are also quite trippy: Zappa is trying to ape every
notorious Dadaist in existence, and he often succeeds, especially with
the 'living in a drum' part and the 'white ugliness' parts. At least they
sound provoking and involving, quite unlike the kind of intolerable
crap that clogs the CD version of Uncle Meat (see below). Not that
they mean much, but then, it's surrealism we're dealing with, ain't it?
Of course, all of these redeeming qualities can't help the fact that unless
you're a special type of guy, you won't find yourself wanting to put this
on again any time soon. It was an important stage in Zappa's career, of
course - he'd never venture that far out again, either because he found
complete satisfaction in the album or, vice versa, because he understood
its pointlessness and stupidity (I'd rather he'd taken the second way,
but how can I penetrate the dark realms of Mr Frank's conscience?) So in
a certain sense the album is the peak of the 1966-68 epoch - yeah, really!
I mean it! The bad thing is that this was the album that probably inspired
Lennon for his nasty fuck-ups at the tail end of the Sixties, and who knows
how many more innumerable talentless rip-offs it has caused.
But I don't mind!! Time has gone and set all the wrongdoings right, so
I just sit here and listen to this crap and think, 'hey man, whatever they
say, it was way cool in the Sixties!' And one more thing - I got this album
tacked on as a BONUS TRACK (no, make that TWO BONUS TRACKS)
to my We're Only In It For The Money CD! Now that's what I call
good luck - I get the best and the worst of Zappa's experimental work on
one disc! I could say I just got it for free!! I didn't have to pay for
Lumpy Gravy at all, you understand? Not one friggin' cent!
Under these circumstances, I'm definitely not offended, and if you think
that I don't rate this album because I hate it, please reconsider.
As an 'avant-garde' art piece, this might get something like a 7/10 or
8/10 from me, that is, if I actually knew enough about avant-garde art
to be able to rate it. Man I'm a really boring dude.
Of course, if you can find it for the same amount of money like I did,
you're welcome to enjoy this record, one of the greatest chef-d'oeuvres
in man's history. Otherwise - please pass. Greatest chef-d'ouevres lose
their greatness when they are paid for with real money, now don't they?
Your worthy comments:
Dan Watkins <dan_watkins@hotmail.com> (29.09.99)
I like it. It's something that takes getting used to for sure. I bought it when I was in fifth grade and grew to love it. I love the orchestral passages, but the dialog stuff gets a little old. I'm crazy about the orchestral versions of 'Oh No' here.
<DWARFNEBULA@aol.com> (14.02.2000)
Sorry man, but I think you're waaaay off on this one. Sure, Lumpy
Gravy comes off as more of a freakish sociological experiment than
a musical recording, but I disagree that it's the "worst" Zappa.
I actually paid for it and I don't regret shelling out the 11 bucks, or
whatever it was at the time, although okay I'll admit I don't play it all
that often.
I also disagree that "Take Your Clothes Off " is the only serious
musical composition on the album. There are a few, if you have the patience
to search them out. My personal favorite would have to be the ominously
brilliant "Envelops The BathTub" -- sort of like flow-of-consciousness
psychedelia crossed with the background music from that old Kolchak:The
Night Stalker show just before the monster came out and mutilated someone,
if you can dig that :)
Definetely not his best album, but not his worst either. I think his worst,
at least as far as his 60's stuff, would probably be the incomprehensible
Weasels Ripped My Flesh (although ironically, I got my screen name
from that album LOL).
Jeff Blehar <jdb3@jhu.edu> (23.02.2000)
I can totally see why you'd despise this, especially as you're obviously
no fan of either Varese-ian musique concrete or avante-garde music in general,
but I frankly get a big kick out of it. The fellow above me got it just
right in calling this one a "freakish sociological experiment,"
complete with the crazy "voices in the piano," but I love the
Dada/absurdist aspect of it; Eugene Ionesco or Samuel Beckett couldn't
write dialogue any better in its non-sequitur half-sense as the following
exchange midway through part I:
Voice 1: How do you get your water so dark and murky?
Voice 2: Because I'm paranoid. I'm very paranoid. And the water in my washing
machine turns dark out of sympathy.
V1: Out of sympathy?
V2: Yes.
V1: Where can I get that?
V2: At your local drugstore.
V1: How much?
V2: It's from Kansas.
Can you scan that, folks? Enjoy it? Then this might be your cup of tea.
It's actually a surprisingly serious piece of work, despite the bits of
humor here and there. There's a powerful statement being made when Motorhead's
banal-as-hell ramble about cars, girls, friends, and jobs is interrupted
by random bursts of chatter fading in and out of the mix - a sort of documentary
and comment upon American vulgarity. Again, certainly not everyone's cuppa
joe, but not really aimless noodling, either. I see a point in Lumpy Gravy,
and it's one I quite enjoy getting into. But it compels you to sit down
for 30 minutes and LISTEN, since it's not tracked in any way (it has two
parts: "Part I," and the appropriately named "Part II."
Zappa gives us the helpful hint to begin with Part I. Thanks Frank.). I'll
give this a 7/10, because although I'd personally rate it higher, this
really isn't for everyone. But there IS a lot of interesting stuff going
on here, moreso than is apparent on a few listens. I still pick up new
things each time through.
Philip Maddox <slurmsmckenzie@hotmail.com> (24.06.2000)
I got this one for free through the BMG Music Service (minus about 3
dollars for shipping and handling), and I STILL feel like I paid to much
for this. Sure, the orchestral bits can be great ('Oh No' never sounded
better, and I still contend that these versions are better than the one
on Weasels), but they can also drag into being WAY to avant-garde
('Envelops the Bath Tub' in particular). So what does that leave? About
20 minutes of nonsensical dialogue. It's not particularly funny, it's just
nonsense. And it eats up the majority of the album. 20 minutes out of 30
is just this crap. I'm sorry, but I can't imagine listening to this very
often. I give it a 2, maybe a 3 on a good day just for 'Oh No' and 'Take
Your Clothes Off'. The rest is absolute drivel.
I still think the 'It's From Kansas' bit is kinda cute, though.
P.S. Since I sent in that last review, I've listened to this record a couple
more times and had mixed reactions. The first time I listened to it after
sending in my review, I liked it. The second time, I hated it again. I
think this record probably isn't as bad as I said - if it was truly horrible,
I would never like it as opposed to occasionally liking it. I guess it
all depends on what kind of mood you're in and how close you pay attention.
I'm gonna change my rating to a simple "unrated". I agree - this
is too weird to rate. I still wouldn't recommend it unless you've got most
of the other Zappa records already, though.
Derrick Stuart <artrocker86@earthlink.net> (06.07.2000)
Keith Emerson once described this as the greatest album he had ever heard.
Ben Greenstein <bgreenstein@nctimes.net> (01.11.2000)
I really don't get the "this is not music" approach that a
lot of people approach this album with. This is certainly a wierd and dissonant
album, but so are Absolutely Free and In It For The Monkey.
The only difference is that the "song" sections on this one are
instrumental, and the spoken bits are slightly longer. But this certainly
isn't a "sound collage" - parts of it, maybe, but it sounds like
it was every bit as difficult to compose as the last few albums. Which
is not to say I like it more - in fact, I happen to think that all early
Zappa is very overrated. Too much focus on silly studio trickery and not
enough songwriting and musicianship. I guess this one could get a seven.
P.S. I have gone back to my initial opinion that Freak Out isn't
very good.
Year Of Release: 1968
Record rating = 9
Overall rating = 12
More balanced and carefully crafted - but again, a little too much
social-oriented. Certainly not Zappa's 'Sgt Pepper'.
Best song: TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES WHEN YOU DANCE
Considered to be Zappa's masterpiece and his peak with the Mothers -
so if you're the kind of type that reads my reviews for fun and doesn't
bother in the least about my opinion, you might as well start here; if
you care for me a little more, I'd say Freak Out! is still a slightly
more reasonable first buy.
What really makes the difference between this and all the previous releases
is lyrics, of course - lyrics, lyrics and again lyrics. Where Freak
Out! was a parody on mainstream musical fashion and Absolutely Free
just a collection of incoherent noises with bits of social critique mixed
in, WOIIFTM has one basic lyrical topic running through it: an uncompromised,
total despise and denunciation of Flower Power. One of the two alternatively
met album covers itself ridiculized Sgt Pepper (I must say, though,
that the similarities start and end here; the only other thing reminiscent
of Sgt Pepper is the mellow piano chord that concludes the album
and is certainly supposed to remind you of the climax to 'A Day In The
Life'), and about half of the tracks deal with the hippie movement, basically
ripping it to pieces with lines like 'psychedelic dungeons popping out
on every street' and 'hey Punk where you're going with those beads around
your neck?/I'm going to the shrink so he can help me be a nervous wreck'.
I'll be very honest here and say that most of the time the lyrics are nothing
short of brilliant - Frank manages to hit the bullseye, ridiculizing all
the wretched excesses of the hipsters and exposing most of the movement's
weaknesses. I do not suppose that a lot of people were buying the record
at the time (I suppose a lot of people were blasphemizing it, though),
but time has shown that no other artistic anti-hip statement was ever expressed
with such force, conviction and sincerity as Money (well, one could
argue that Pete Townshend did likewise in Tommy, but that was in
a more oblique, veiled way, and anyway, Pete was always an idealist whereas
Frank was always a nihilist - that's the main difference).
DISCLAIMER, people! While I say that the lyrics and the ideology of the
record are brilliant, I certainly do NOT share the idea that all
of Flower Power was a load of bullshit, and I believe that you shouldn't
share it as well. Even if we do not mention the fact that hippies and hippism
really made a massive positive effect in this world of ours (and
they did), they at least made a lot of good music - damn it, I love
all that Woodstock - Jefferson Airplane - Mamas & Papas - Janis Joplin
- John Sebastian crap! There's good and bad music there, good and bad influences,
but only a complete dork would throw all that enormous layer of cultural
heritage away. There is no such thing as 'hippie crap' - there is good
hippie stuff and bad hippie stuff, get it? And deep down in my bones, I
hope that Frank was mostly ridiculizing the bad hippie stuff - primarily
drugs and 'freaking out', all those myriads of stoned kids for whom the
hippie movement was just a pretext to drop out, not bother about working
and being free to behave like pigs. (Not to mention that he actually does
put at least part of the blame on the kids' parents that drove their children
to such life, in 'Mom & Dad'). But this was not what the hippie ideology
was really about - at least, not all of it. Forget that, though, we're
not gonna start a discussion here. What I was really discussing
were the ups and downs of We're Only In It For The Money, right?
Well, I said that the lyrics are great; let's discuss the problems now.
The main problem is that the lyrics and the concept tend to overshadow
everything else on the album. Whenever you read a general review of this
album, you mostly get vague, but very 'important' descriptions of the record's
status and innovations and how important it was for somebody like Zappa
to pronounce a death sentence to the hippie movement, etc., etc. - and
they never tell you about the music, forgetting about that in the process
of raving. Well, this is where my critique steps in, and it's about the
same as in the case of Absolutely Free - too many potentially good
melodies abandoned in favour of 'originality' and, well, the shock factor,
p'raps? There's one good thing about it, though: most of the tracks are
really really short, ranging from three minutes to short half-minute snippets
(there's a whole lot of nineteen tracks on the record!) In this way, whenever
you fall upon a bad melody or an idiotic piece of noise ('Nasal Retentive
Call', for instance), you may be sure it will not torture you for very
long - quite soon it'll pass away and present you with something completely
different. But the melodies themselves just don't have the appeal of tunes
from Freak Out!. When they're good, they're generally better: 'Take
Your Clothes Off When You Dance', a mock-hippie anthem features an amazing
dance rhythm and is almost childish, with its hilarious falsetto vocals;
the complex 'Mother People' has a groovy way of alternating fast jazzy
parts with soft balladeering; 'Flower Punk' is an excellent parody on blues
(apparently, the lines are imitating 'Hey Joe', but there's not much of
a Hendrix feel to it in any case); and 'Who Needs The Peace Corps?' combines
brutal anti-Frisco sneers with a really catchy pop melody. Some of the
songs are still based on doo-wop: for instance, 'What's The Ugliest Part
Of Your Body?' (don't worry, it's your mind), reprised twice throughout
the album, that will make you laugh off your bellybutton.
Unfortunately, about quite as much tunes are forgettable - the boring waltz
'Absolutely Free', for instance, does nothing for me, despite providing
us with the climactic moment of the record when somebody exclaims 'Flower
power sucks!' 'The Idiot Bastard Son', 'Lonely Little Girl' and 'Harry
You're A Beast' are also not among Frank's best - the lyrics are always
good, but the melodies are either much too generic or non-existent. Another
problem is that with all the humor and irony going on, one can simply get
a headache. The only moment that at least partly approaches sincerity is
Frank's nearly-sentimental rendition of 'Mom & Dad' where he paints
a horrid picture of hip kids shot by cops in the park and blames the parents
for their death: a slow, sad ballad underpinned by some pretty guitar lines
and Frank's grand, almost pompous manner of singing. The rest is all, well,
'laughable'. Even though the laugh element here is overwhelming: from the
very starting point, when the recording engineer starts whispering that
he's going to erase all the Frank Zappa masters and leave 'blank empty
spaces' and up to song names like 'Hot Poop' (Geez! Frank, really!!!),
you're sure to be thoroughly entertained.
Actually, the only serious mess arrives at the very end, when Frank just
cannot resist the temptation to end the album with the longest and, let's
admit it, most unnecessary track on record, a lengthy psychedelic noise
called 'The Chrome Plate Megaphon Of Destiny' that's much worse than 'The
Return Of The Son Of The Monster Magnet' simply because it has none of
these cool voices that made the 'jams' on Freak Out! tolerable.
At six minutes length, it's excruciating, considering that none of the
other songs run longer than three. It may be avantgarde and 'experimental',
but... ????!!! Some kind of 'avantgarde'! For this, and also the fact that
much of the short selections don't particularly interest me either, I deprived
the album of about two or three points... but I gave it an extra one for
the 'ooh, how cool-'ness and historical importance. Oh, and the lyrics!
What lyrics! If you hate Jefferson Airplane and Country Joe & The Fish,
this should be the first record in your collection!
P. S. Here's a technical note for this album, presented in the form of
Dan Watkins' response to my proud statement that I got both WOIIFTM
and Lumpy Gravy on a single CD: "Ohhh, you got the remix and
redubbed We're Only In It For The Money. You see, In '84 Frank had
two band members redub the bass and drums on that album and Cruising
With Ruben & The Jets. The two-fer CD is the redubbed and remixed
version. The current CD restores the original mix. The two versions sound
like two entirely different albums. The original mix sounds much older
and a few lines of dialog and lyrics were censored (but appeared on the
remixed CD). Actually, you were pretty lucky to get the two-fer. It's out
of print and not too easy to find. You might want to check out the original
mix though." Thanks, Dan!
Absolutely free to mail your ideas
Your worthy comments:
Dan Watkins <dan_watkins@hotmail.com> (29.09.99)
What can I say that George hasn't already said about this album? I'll just second his opinion and tell you to buy the album. It's one of the early Mothers' best albums.
Ben Greenstein <bgreenstein@nctimes.net> (01.10.99)
Not as bad as I initially thought, I still don't see what could possibly
make this an essential album. Don't get me wrong - it's fun, but I just
don't get why Zappa had to stick the stupid little dialogue clips in the
middle of certain songs. They really ruin any chance of fluidity, and subtract
from some of the stronger numbers, particularly "The Idiot Bastard
Son." My favourite songs are "Let's Make The Water Turn Black"
(does anyone else notice what a nice melody it has?) and the simply gorgeous
"What's The Ugliest Part Of Your Body?" (gorgeous, that is, until
it's inexplicably cut short). The other tracks aren't bad, either, but
they only exist as part of the album, as opposed to songs on their own.
And, of course, Absolutely Free has almost no standout songs as
well, but it flows much better, and is made up mostly of actual music,
rather than creepy whispering. I was expected a much more fleshed-out work,
and was dissapointed. I give it a seven.
Jeff Blehar <jdb3@jhu.edu> (23.02.2000)
This was my first Zappa album (yep, went on the critics' opinions),
but I still think it's impossibly good and a 10/10. Again, what makes it
so indelible isn't necessarily the "avant-garde" aspect of the
album (although it certainly helps) but rather the presence of a combination
of awesome lyrics and great melodies. This album has something like twenty
songs, and amazingly enough, the amount of original and compelling melodies
and pieces of music comes out to something near that number as well. "Who
Needs The Peace Corps," "Mom & Dad" (with that great
middle eight), "Bow Tie Daddy" (which Dave Weigel memorably said
on Prindle's page has more personality in its 33-second running time than
an entire Silverchair album), "Absolutely Free," "What's
The Ugliest Part Of Your Body," "Idiot Bastard Son," "Lonely
Little Girl," "Mother People," etc, etc, are ALL great songs
with lyrics, melody, and personality just spilling out like a fat guy's
gut stuffed into trousers two sizes too small.}
Lyrically, I'm surprised that it hasn't dated as much as you think it would.
Zappa's snotty remarks on hippie fashion in "Who Needs The Peace Corps?"
will always be relevant to any style poseurs, while "Absolutely Free"'s
complete assassination of psychedelic cliches is a great antidote to 60's
flower-power revivalism (see his later "We're Turning Again"
for a much more offensive take on all of this). And come on, we all gotta
hand it to Frank that calling his concentration camp "Camp Reagan"
was one heck of an eerie stroke of genius.
What caps this album for me is its conceptual, purely theoretical aspects.
Moreso than any of his "music" albums up to this point, Money
witnesses Zappa actively toying with both the idea of music and the format
of vinyl, but with the listener's expectations as well. Dick Kunc's whispered
threats on how 's going to erase every Frank Zappa tape are just as intriguing
as "Mother People"'s scratching tone-arm. That's one effect that's
sadly lost on CD folks - unless you're listening on a record player, the
effect (realistically reproduced) in "Mother People" of someone
sliding the tone arm of the record player across the record and placing
it on what seems to be a completely DIFFERENT album of classical music
(really an excerpt from Lumpy Gravy: conceptual continuity makes
its first appearance! Unless you count that CIA guy from Laurel Canyon!)
doesn't hit you the same way. Ah well. It's still a great album, with a
classic cover (to tell the truth, I FAR prefer it to Sgt. Pepper's
cover, but maybe that's just 'cause purple's my favorite color and I dig
the rotting fruits and vegetables on the cover). One word of warning: avoid
AT ALL COSTS the "rerecorded" version Zappa put on CD in the
late 80's (the one with Lumpy Gravy on the same disc - alas, it
seems to be the version George has). It's really terrible, with rerecorded
drums and bass, where the songs seem to be sped up and dried out. It sounds
like a completely different album, and not a very good one to be honest
(that's how much it's changed!). Get the new Rykodisc version.
Philip Maddox <slurmsmckenzie@hotmail.com> (25.06.2000)
This is it. This has everything I love about Zappa (except his amazing
guitar skill). I give this album a 10 with no hesitation. It's absoluteley
great!
For one thing, this album easily has the best lyrics Zappa ever wrote (though
You Are What You Is comes close). He makes fun of everything that
was wrong with the sixties in one fell swoop. 'Mom and Dad', 'Concentration
Moon', and 'Bow Tie Daddy' all rip the established culture to shreds, while
the counterculture gets blasted in numbers like 'Who Needs the Peace Corps?',
'Flower Punk', and 'Absolutely Free' (in which a voice subtly announces
"Flower power sucks!"). Some songs are Frank urging people to
think for themselves ('What's the Ugliest Part of Your Body?', 'Mother
People'), and some of it is just plain weird ('Let's Make the Water Turn
Black', 'The Idiot Bastard Son'). All of it is brilliant - even though
I wasn't around then, this must have caused quite a stir back in 1968.
But we mustn't forget the music! It all works just as well. 'Who Needs
the Peace Corps' and 'Let's Make the Water Turn Black' have my favorite
melodies on the album, but the others aren't far behind. Outside of the
chunks of noise ('Are You Hung Up?', 'Nasal Retentive Calliope Music',
'The Chrome Plated Megaphone of Destiny'), the only really weak melody
here is 'The Idiot Bastard Son' (which, as Ben stated, is hurt by being
broken up with dialogue). It's all quite diverse as well, so at least a
few of these melodies will stick to you, even if others leave you cold
(there's 19 tracks in all).
The noise is disposable, as usual, but it's not as bad as it could be.
It doesn't really hurt the record for me, because it's all so short (except
the almost 7-minute 'Chrome Plated Megaphone of Destiny', which closes
the album anyway). This is a great record. It gets my highest recommendations.
Thomas M. Silvestri <cc3000@earthlink.net> (01.10.2000)
One could write a book on the greatness and significance of this album and the previous writers have already covered lots of key points impressively, so I won't add much. But a note to Philip Maddox: no, this album did not cause much of a stir when it came out, though people hip to what was happening on FM radio and in West Coast music circles loved it, of course. Fact is, in some ways America wasn't nearly as uptight then as it seems to be becoming today with respect to culture -- though of course stuff like this also flew well below the radar of congressional committees at the time, still smarting as they were over how badly they overreacted in the McCarthy era and, in so doing, helped give birth to the counterculture. At any rate, "The Idiot Bastard Son" is one of the greatest Mothers songs not only because of the wistful melody (ever heard Jean-Luc Ponty's instrumental version on King Kong, his first album?) but also because the words have become more timely than ever. (Used to sing them to myself a lot when Gingrich was still Speaker of the House.)
Year Of Release: 1968
Record rating = 7
Overall rating = 10
Zappa's desperate tribute to doo-wop that's actually the flip side
to his noisy experimental albums.
Best song: Jesus, where do I start??..
I usually hate reviewing albums like this one - transitional records,
made exclusively on occasion and for the occasion, some kind of
'musical newspapers' to be listened to on the spur of the moment and be
forgotten the next day. By no means is this an essential Zappa record,
and the fact that I got it way before We're Only In It For The Money,
the really substantial Frank product of 1968, only showcazes the
crazyness of Russian record industry. And yet, this is such a hilariously
strange record that I do find certain redeeming qualities here - not to
mention the fact that it's eminently listenable.
The story in brief is as follows: 'Is this the Mothers of Invention recording
under a different name in a last diten attempt to get their cruddy music
on the radio?' asks a comically-looking, big-nosed Frank on the album cover,
and that pretty much sums up everything. No, of course he never really
wanted to get his songs played on the radio, or at least, not on the
radio - the epithome of the commercial monster. This is yet another parody
album, of course: a record that presents us a 'mainstream' (heh heh) Zappa,
in fact, he's so blatantly, defiantly mainstream here that he almost makes
us believe in it. You just need to take a look at Frank's photo on the
back cover (hair cut and combed, no goatbeard, and a tie!!) to understand
that there's just something not right about this record.
This is actually the main problem. There are thirteen songs on this record,
and ALL are generic Fifties-style doo-wop and bop-pop in the finest traditions
of Pat Boone, Frankie Avalon, whoever. The lyrics take banal love balladeering
to the extreme, the melodies are derivative as hell, and Frank does not
even sing here, contributing only 'low grumbles, oo-wah and lead guitar',
leaving the singing to Ray Collins. Were this record to belong to somebody
else, in fact, if it were a real Fifties record, we the 'intelligent'
music lovers would probably spit on it and s*it on it. But to witness such
a record come out from under the hands of Zappa is such a devastating shock
that you can't but get interested. Kinda like, you know, as if Geri Haliwell
would record her version of 'Thick As A Brick'.
Yes, Frank had been doing doo-wop before, as we all know. But that
doo-wop was all fake, and you knew it from the start: you knew that it's
actually a sardonic parody on the real thing and you loved it exactly for
that. Here, though, it's totally different. If you're not told that this
is Zappa from the start, you'll never guess it except for the fact that
they re-record some songs off Freak Out!. Even so, Frank takes particular
care that all the sharp, sarcastic moments be taken out from the songs:
'How Could I Be Such A Fool', 'I'm Not Satisfied', and 'You Didn't Try
To Call Me' are all changed almost beyond recognition, with Frank's goatey
vocals replaced by Collins' crystal clear, professional singing and all
the background vocals perfectly 'normal'. My personal feeling is that only
'Any Way The Wind Blows' gains something from such a treat (especially
in the vocal department), but you might hate this version, I just don't
know.
As for the other songs, they are ultimately generic and yet catchy. Since
I'm not a big specialist in Fifties music that ain't rock'n'roll, I wouldn't
know whether Frank equals or betters his mainstream predecessors, but whatever
be, I quite enjoy some of the material. There are some fine pop rockers,
like the opening 'Cheap Thrills' and 'No No No', a couple of groovey Beach
Boys-like ditties ('Deseri', 'Anything'), and only the slow ballads ('Love
Of My Life', 'Fountain Of Love') suck mercilessly. Yet aren't they destined
to suck? Read on to find this out... Actually, the only moment of revelation
comes in the final number, 'Stuff Up The Cracks': first, the black humour
in the lyrics suggest the presence of Frank at long last, and next, the
song finishes with a two-minute furious wah-wah solo that has nothing to
do with doo-wop at all: Frank gives it his all as if he's hoping to redeem
himself for the whole album by putting as much of his soul as he can muster
into these two minutes of music. A totally unexpected ending for the record,
it again demonstrates mr Zappa in all of his splendid unpredictability.
The burning question that still haunts me can be formulated this way: is
this really a sincere tribute to doo-wop, or is it one of these
silly little mystifications that Frank was playing over and over throughout
all of his life? Usually I incline to believe the latter, of course; yet
these songs are so immaculate in their pseudo-nostalgic recreation of that
atmosphere that each time I listen to the record, I tend to think that
the former is more correct. Even the liner notes don't help much: phrases
like 'this is an album of greasy love songs & cretin simplicity' certainly
shows that Frank wasn't of a very high opinion about the songs and the
genre as a whole, but they don't contradict the idea that he was still
playing them out of a nostalgic passion for such music. We all have our
little nostalgic child sitting deep within us, now don't we? Anyway, I'm
stumped. If you know something about the true nature of this record, please
E-mail me - let's sort it out together.
And one last thing: if I'm correct, the newer (post-1984) releases of this
album all have re-recorded rhythm tracks imposed on them by Frank in the
Eighties. Why he had to do this is beyond me, and since I haven't heard
the original, I can't say which version's the better. Luckily, he didn't
use drum machines: these would have sounded rather odd on pseudo-Fifties
material, I guess.
Stuff up the cracks with your ideas
Your worthy comments:
Dan Watkins <dan watkins@hotmail.com> (28.07.99)
Hmmm... Zappa on doo-wop. This one took a while for me to appreciate. The first time I heard it, I was listening to the '84 remix with the bass and drums re-recorded. I hated it. Later, I came across a dub of the original vinyl and liked it quite a bit. You really have to be in the right mood for it. A funny story is that a radio DJ was playing the album on the air non-stop. He eventually found out it was recorded by the Mothers of Invention and immediately quit playing it. I don't think anyone can decide if the album is a tribute or a parody. Frank really did love doo-wop. He always hated love song lyrics, but he thought the vocal melodies in doo-wop were beautiful. In fact, I feel the same way about this album. Unfortunately, the "love song lyrics" on this album are sincere. That's right. No hilariously sarcastic lyrics like "I gave you my high school ring/At the rootbeer stand/We had a teenage love, baby" lyrics. The lyrics in 'Fountain of Love' are corny enough to make you puke. But the music isn't bad. I like 'Deseri', 'Love of My Life', 'Stuff Up the Cracks', 'Jelly Roll Gum Drop', and 'Later That Night' quite a bit, and I love the falsetto vocals near the end of 'I'm Not Satisfied'. A rock album it ain't, but folks with wide musical tastes might enjoy it.
Joshua Fiero <jfiero1@lsu.edu> (03.01.2000)
Yup, Frank loved doo wop. He said the most transcendent musical experiences in the world were conducting an orchestra and singing traditional five-part doo wop harmony and getting the chords right. Things people tend to forget about FZ: he respected musicianship and folk tradition; just look at his love for the Chieftains. So, guys like the Penguins got points because they could sing like birds, and because their music became a cultural phenomenon. The treacly, stupid lyrics that those gorgeous voices conveyed, he mercilessly parodied. And, hey Dan, the fact that the words to "Fountain of Love" made you want to puke is probably the point.
David Goodwin <ksg1-2@idt.net> (06.11.2000)
Completely miscellaneous point that I don't know if I've made or not.
"And one last thing: if I'm correct, the newer (post-1984) releases
of this album all have re-recorded rhythm tracks imposed on them by Frank
in the Eighties. Why he had to do this is beyond me, and since I haven't
heard the original, I can't say which version's the better. Luckily, he
didn't use drum machines: these would have sounded rather odd on pseudo-Fifties
material, I guess."
Interesting statement, especially the part about drum machines. Y'see,
Frank did a LOT of drum overdubbage on his back catalogue, some of it frighteningly
bizarre (he overdubbed drums on a later release of 1982's Man From Utopia,
for christ's sake). I'm convinced that most of it was done around the same
time, mostly because it takes effort to set a studio up to do that kind
of thing.
But back to the point. At the time these and other overdubs were done,
Frank's drummer of choice was Chad Wackerman, a remarkably talented guy
who has a almost-Keith-moon-esque "lead" style of playing (eg.
he loves to play along with melody lines). This technique, unfortunately,
has a downside. Around this time, the drum-set of choice was called something
like "Drummer's Studio"; in essense, digital/synth drums that
Chad would play. But it doesn't really matter that someone was PLAYING
them, as Chad's very precise nature makes it basically sound like overly-sophisticated
drum machines.
Don't believe me? Really LISTEN to the re-recorded drums...all of the similar
beats are EXACTLY the same, which eventually gets grating. ALthough it
certainly isn't as obnoxious here as it is on, say, the re-recorded Money
(where Frank had the bright idea of speeding up the drums on tracks like
'Concentration Moon', where they end up sounding even more ridiculously
artificial) or most of the '84 tour barring Does Humor.
This might seem like a stupid topic to comment on, but the digital drums
have to rank up there as one of Frank's *worst* value judgements of the
80s, and he made several (amoung them, the decision to build his own studio--which
almost always results in a sudden burst of filler from ANY artist--his
obsession with digital technology, which led to the butchering of a good
bit of his back catalogue, etc. etc.)
Anyway, I've had my say..;-)
Year Of Release: 1993
Record rating = 7
Overall rating = 10
A truly fascinating historic document, although kinda dated and useless
without the visual side.
Best song: THE ORANGE COUNTY LUMBER TRUCK
Hah! Now you know that Ruben & The Jets was just a
big put-on - right at the same time when Frank was recording that tongue-in-cheek
doo-wop tribute, they were playing this shit with the Mothers of Invention
live? Holy Mother!... Even if the record was only released twenty-five
years after the show actually took place, it's still not less interesting
than it would be back then. Come to think of it, maybe more interesting,
now that we might take a look back at Frank Zappa's scandalistic past and
pat his friendly ghost on the shoulder...
...aw man, now I'm getting sentimental, don't let me go on like that! This
is all taken from a single show that Frank Vincent Zappa and the Stepmothers
Of Invention played somewhere in the fall of 1968 (I'm not sure if it includes
the complete show, but it might as well do that, especially since Frank
hints at the fact that they were playing fewer songs that evening because
the subway closed early). The sound quality is fairly decent for an untrained
ear like mine, at least, the actual 'musical part' is brilliantly recorded
considering the early stages of recording techniques, and at least the
audience doesn't seem to be willing to fix Zappa's mug with a rotten tomato
or something (yeah, buddy, those were the times when he could just make
a bunch of fart noises and safely pass it off as art).
The show itself is divided in two parts. The first part is generally more
entertaining to my ears, even if it's also the one that's more avant-garde.
It consists of a half-improvised 'play' with a plot where several members
of the Mothers, disappointed with the band's totally 'freaky' and 'progressive'
style, leave to form a new group and get transformed into robots; meanwhile,
Don Preston and Ian Underwood hold audition for several other members to
see whether they can easily fit into their 'progressive' combo. As for
Frank himself, he acts the role of God the Father, standing in a corner
and commenting on various actions of the band. It's all exceedingly funny,
with a brilliant remark let out now and then ('how are you gonna get laid
if you don't play rock'n'roll and drink beer?' is my favourite). And what's
more important, it almost justifies the murky avant-garde 'classical' passages,
where the Mothers are aided by the BBC Symphony Orchestra. I'd probably
hate this stuff otherwise, just like I wasn't all that pleased with the
excessive noise on Lumpy Gravy; however, in the context of the 'play'
it suddenly makes sense and mostly adds to the general fun.
The letdown is that all of these things aren't really music - they're essentially
just show elements, and do you really need to listen to this show again
and again when you don't even see what's happening onstage (like Frank
dressing drummer Jimmy Carl Black in a Jimi Hendrix wig etc.)? The only
thing at least vaguely reminiscent of 'music' is the silly childish tune
'Agency Man' where Frank puts up an ad for a president, but it's also disjointed
and quite loose most of the time.
So the second part, starting with an eight-minute version of 'King Kong',
one of Frank's then-favourite stage numbers, is pure music - so pure, in
fact, that there are almost no vocals at all. Instead, the band just ploughs
on through their standards and improvisations, ripping the standards to
shreds ('Help I'm A Rock' is just one and a half minute long; 'Let's Make
The Water Turn Black' is less than two minutes and seems speeded up) and
reveling in their jammy, improvised splendour. This is the Mothers at their
peak - and, while the playing skills of the individual members are in no
way comparable with those of some of Frank's later bands (the Roxy
ensemble, for instance, makes this particular one sound like a nursery
room rehearsal), they compensate for it with a certain ease and improvisatory
fury that's completely lacking on the same later releases.
Frankly speaking, quite a few of these lengthy passages suck; of course,
it's mostly jazz, a genre that I was never an expert in, but I do not think
it is exceedingly good jazz: 'King Kong', like all of its subsequent versions,
is deadly overlong, and, while 'Transylvania Boogie' starts as a 'boogie'
indeed, it is soon 'bogged' down. So, actually, the place where it all
comes together is 'Let's Make The Water Turn Black': the tune sets a stable,
fast and steady rhythm that gets transferred on to the following tunes
and reaches a climax on the second part of 'The Orange Country Lumber Truck'.
This is the moment where Frank quits all the crap and lets loose with a
furious, exorcisizing solo that's currently my bet for one of his best
ever - speedy, heavy, dazzling and driving on. Funny how the show starts
so 'progressive' and then gets so 'mainstream', eh? Frank was really a
master of genre-combining: while the album begins as a paradise for avant-garde
freakouts, it ends like an Eldorado for blues-rock aficionados.
My question is: how come it's Peter Gabriel that's usually considered as
the father of 'rock theatre'? Isn't this an early incarnation of
'rock theatre'? Oh, okay, this is probably an early incarnation of 'jazz
theatre'. But it still rocks. Not one of Frank's best, of course, because
all the noise and improv stuff can really mess up one's nerves, but a perfect
document of the original Mothers' freaky live charm. And don't forget the
hilarious album cover, too!
Agency man, send me some ideas
Your worthy comments:
Dan Watkins <dan_watkins@hotmail.com> (16.08.99)
Hey, I'm glad you enjoyed this one. I love it! Fortunately, there IS
existing video footage of the play! It's on the Uncle Meat home
video. Unfortunately, the movie is out of print. According to the Zappa
Family Trust, preparation for a re-release of all the Zappa movies is taking
place, but they've been saying that for three years.
If your interested you can find dubs of it from people on the internet,
including me. To be perfectly honest the rest of the movie is for hard-core
blood-and-guts Zappa fans only. I think any one else would find the rest
of the movie absolutely unbearable.
Year Of Release: 1969
Record rating = 7
Overall rating = 10
Nifty pot of jazzy ideas here, even if I miss the guitar. The movie
stuff is prime hogwash, though.
Best song: UNCLE MEAT MAIN THEME
A seven for the CD version; the original vinyl edition deserves a high
eight or low nine, whatever. See, the record sports the subtitle "(Most
Of The Music From The Mothers' Movie Of The Same Name Which We Haven't
Got Enough Money To Finish Yet)". Now it's not exactly well-known
if Frank actually did plan to release a movie as early as 1969;
some action and bizarre scenery were shot indeed, but the work was never
completed. Until the Eighties, that is - when Frank found some free time
on his hands and actually got around to putting the final touches on the
product. I haven't seen the movie, but most fans condemn it as something
really outrageous, and if even diehards twirl their noses at it, I suppose
I'd better steer clear. The only good thing that's being said about it
(as voiced by Dan Watkins in a reader comment above) is that it features
the entire 'play' released on Ahead Of Their Time.
Where I'm actually heading to is to say that the new Rykodisc CD edition
of the album is far more movie-based than the original vinyl release, and
therefore it sucks. I'm not the kind of person to condemn Frank for re-recording
the bass and drums parts on We're Only In It For The Money and stuff
like that: after all, songs are songs, and I don't give a damn. But this,
this is intolerable. The second CD begins with an interminable section
of idiotic dialogue that goes absolutely nowhere. It's not funny,
it's not provocative, it's repetitive, it's more than half an hour long,
and for the most part it's dedicated to... you guessed it... bizarre sex.
Okay, they do talk about the movie, too, sometimes, but mostly it's just
a girl called Phyllis (groupie?) falling in love with Don Preston who keeps
transforming into a monster. The phrase that gets repeated most of the
time is 'I'm using the chicken to measure it', and you don't have to guess
what is meant by 'it'. Then, after you can't take any more, you
get a dose of sheer stupidity in 'Tengo Na Minchia Tanta' ('I've Got A
Bunch Of Dick' in the Naples dialect of Italian), sung, or, more exactly,
muttered by an Italian journalist. It's just about four or five lines of
gross Italian text repeated over and over again, and what the hell, the
number's not even 'ancient' - it was recorded around 1980 or 1981, with
cheesy synths and an atmosphere completely uncompatible with the rest of
the album. And to top it off, you get a second snippet of dialogue. Altogether,
that makes up for about fourty-five minutes of untolerable crap; I only
sat through this once and refuse to listen to it again - hell, Lumpy
Gravy looks like a lost extract from Schopenhauer after this stuff.
And after making a few simplistic calculations, I realized that having
thrown out all this shit, they could have simply taken the rest of the
second CD ('King Kong') and put it on the first one, which would result
in a cute little 77-minute delight for the ears. Instead, you have to pay
twice. It's like buying a Pentium-II and having to throw in additional
money for a rusty 8088... Crap. Buy the tape instead of the CD; as far
as I know, there's no movie stuff on that one. Luckily, I didn't have to
puy more than five bucks for the double CD.
Well, never mind. The rest of the album is quite solid. If you leave out
the archive release of Ahead Of Their Time, Uncle Meat is
the first Zappa CD to indicate the radical change of direction the Mothers
would take for this and much of the following year. By now, Frank is mainly
concentrating on the instrumental avantgarde jazz stuff, either leaving
the lyrics out completely or just making them completely meaningless. It
almost seems that, after reaching the peak of his satirical spirit on Money,
Frank decided not to repeat himself and, moreover, distance himself from
the tag of 'tongue-in-cheek sardonic geek'. Back then, this meant that
Uncle Meat had alienated quite a few fans from good old Frank; many
simply convicted him as a tripped-out old geezer who had abandoned his
true vocation to pursue a pointless experimental trail. The most dedicated,
however, remained, and you should, too.
Because a lot of this stuff is very interesting. No, even after throwing
out every damn soundtrack bit I'm still not head over heels with the finished
project. Even on the first CD, there's way too much fillerish dialogue
- some of it autobiographical ("If We'd All Been Living In California..."),
some 'nostalgic' ('The Voice Of Cheese', once again reintroducing the favourite
female character Suzy Creamcheese), all of it not very necessary. And maybe
I'm sacrilegious, but I've never been a great fan of 'King Kong', one of
Frank's most notorious magna opera, that fills all of the space
on Disc 2 which isn't already filled up with the soundtrack garbage. It
is, of course, funny how Frank separated the tune into six different, separately
indexed tracks, and it also makes it easier to sit through the entire thing;
but I still think that there's no real coherency to the number, and for
the most part it's just a solid launchpad for some of the Mothers' jamming.
That said, it's certainly not bad; I just can't see the reason for the
outstanding reverence that fans pay it. There's not even a single memorable
theme on here, dammit.
The song material on disc 1, however, is an entirely different matter;
and once you've shelled it out and laid it on, say, 45 minutes of tape,
this can certainly qualify as a perfect ten for Frank. Few of these performances
are self-indulgent, none are too lengthy, and most are rhythmic, lightweight
and lighthearted. The main theme to 'Uncle Meat', opening the album, is
my bet for the best of these: terrific vibes, cool martial rhythms and
a pretty childish atmosphere that's really inviting - ah, if only the entire
album would match that atmosphere. ('Peaches En Regalia' off the following
album is more or less in the same vein). 'Nine Types Of Industrial Pollution'
at first seems pretty dissonant, but, like Mike DeFabio actually pointed
out on the Prindle site, it actually isn't - it's in 4/4. Heh heh. It also
gives you a nice insight into Frank playing acoustic (or, at least, acoustic-imitating
electric); he's got a nice technique, and he sometimes inserts very Claptonesque
bluesy licks that are plain awesome. 'Dog Breath, In The Year Of The Plague'
is something special, too: spooky and hilarious at the same time, with
a slight Spanish tinge about it and gracious saxophones lifting up the
main theme and sending it into the open air. The funny vocal melodies make
the tune one of the most important links to Zappa's past, yet at the same
time the mighty brass section throws it into the future - that's how I
judge it, at least.
After a couple throwaways, you get more of the same in 'Dog Breath Variations'
which are even more pleasant than the 'main' composition. More tasty acoustic,
a relaxing organ, and that trademark 'kindness' that's oh so evident in
Zappa's best works. 'Sleeping In A Jar' is fifty seconds long, but during
its fifty seconds it has somehow managed to transform into one of my favourite
'lullabies' - not that anybody could really fall asleep while listening
to it, of course. 'The Uncle Meat Variations' is Ian Underwood's show all
the way, with a magnificent harpsichord part; a streak of medievalism is
evident here, working all too well on an album that ranges among Frank's
most diverse ones musically - did I mention that yet? The variety of styles
on here is immense...
...as evidenced by the doo-wop sendup 'Electric Aunt Jemima', which again
ties the record to the past; the song seems to come straight out of the
Freak Out! vibe, except that it's a bit more experimental; 'electric'
indeed. Then the band plays the jazzy 'Prelude To King Kong', before switching
off to a sloppy, drunken version of 'God Bless America', said to be recorded
live at the Whisky A Go Go. Hmm, indeed, what a better place could there
be for recording the tune? Back to 'child jazz' on 'A Pound For A Brown
On The Bus', and tap it off with the only moment of (deserved) self-indulgence,
'Ian Underwood Whips It Out' (live on stage in Copenhagen), where said
Ian really whips it out on the sax. Go, Ian, go! Show those jazzy snobs
a trick or two! Yeehaw!
Ahem. Sorry. 'Mr Green Genes' is shorter and less impressive than its 'Son'
on Hot Rats, but quite a soothing tune nevertheless. 'The Air' is
another doo-wop masterpiece; 'Project X' is five minutes of tolerable dissonance;
and 'Cruising For Burgers' is, well, a good enough conclusion for Disc
1, though I'd be hard pressed to come up with something more intelligent
to say about it.
In any case, Uncle Meat is a solid project if only because of its
span. It's like a Mother Panorama, you see? I don't know if the movie was
actually designed as a "Mothers" documentary (maybe it was, but
Zappa was far too weird to confess it), but the album, or, at least, Disc
1 of the current CD edition, works fine as a sort of mini-encyclopaedia
of the band at the time. The only thing I sorely miss is the lack of one
or two electric thunderstorms from Frank himself; but it's plain to see
that on Uncle Meat the man is trying to be as democratic as possible.
I mean, if there is one album in among Frank's entire catalogue
that would have to just sport 'The Mothers Of Invention' on it, no 'Frank
Zappa and the Mothers of Invention', it would have to be Uncle Meat,
right? That's why the liner notes are so keen on telling us everything
about every band member.
As it is, you still get a lot - serious jazz, lightweight jazz, doo-wop,
dissonant classical, acoustic shuffles, medieval stylizations, whatever.
Heck, I think I don't even mind the short dialogue bits on the first CD
that seriously; they do add a bit to the impression, once you've really
concentrated on the 'learning' rather than the 'enjoying' process ('Our
Bizarre Relationship' sure can raise an eyebrow or two, though). However,
the crap-filled Disc 2 is a completely different matter. Find the tape
or the old vinyl disc, people. Please. You'll be lucky if you can
find a CD edition of this stuff for five bucks, like I did.
Our bizarre relationship: you mail your ideas and I post 'em
Your worthy comments:
Ben Greenstein <bgreenstein@nctimes.net> (27.04.2000)
I have the tape version, which gets rid of the unfunny spoken word crap and leaves in the good stuff. In all honesty, I shouldn't like this record very much - it takes all of the things about Zappa's first three that I don't like about them and cuts out most of the cool melodies and such. But I DO like it, a lot. I give it an eight, five of those for "Dog Breath," two more for "King Kong," and a really big one for the rest.
Philip Maddox <slurmsmckenzie@hotmail.com> (25.06.2000)
Maybe it's just me, but this album never hit me as anything spectacular.
Sure, it has great parts, but as a whole, the album doesn't quite gel for
me. This album is packed with a lot of well played but still tuneless jazz
noise like 'Ian Underwood Whips it Out', 'Nine Types of Industrial Pollution',
and 'Project X'. None of these songs suck, but they don't exactly make
me jump up and down with glee. The live version of 'Louie Louie' is so
poorly recorded and mixed that they probably should have just left it off
the album. There's also a lot of spoken dialogue ala Lumpy Gravy
('The Voice of Cheese', 'Our Bizarre Relationship', etc.), but at least
it's short here. And the quote-unquote "Bonus Tracks" are a disgrace.
George is right - without them, the whole album could be crammed onto one
disc. Yeesh! George already trashed them above - let's just try to forget
they exist. Some of this stuff is still top notch, though. 'King Kong'
is pretty cool, all of the different versions of 'Dog Breath' are great
(as are the versions of 'Uncle Meat', but to a lesser extent). The doo-wop
songs on here are top notch. 'Mr. Green Genes' is about a millionth as
good as the Hot Rats version, but it's still ok.
This is a decent record, but probably not worth the money for a double
disc. I give it a 6 or 7, though I can't decide right now. And that's not
counting the quote-unquote "Bonus Tracks". If you want to count
them as actual material, feel free to lower that rating 4 or 5 points,
at least. They're that bad. Do what I do if you have the cd - just skip
them. Or, if you have a cd burner, make a new cd with the dialogue crap
edited out. Makes it more fun that way.
Mike DeFabio <defab4@earthlink.net> (22.09.2000)
Heh heh... George Starostin namechecked me. The tape version of this album is quite good, and if you have access to a CD burner and a friend who has the CD, all the better! I'm pretty sure that if you sat down, took all the dialogue stuff and edited it down to, say, 5 minutes, it wouldn't be half bad. Forty minutes though? Ew. And "Tengo Ni Minchia Tanta" is one of the worst songs I've ever heard. Just a terrible song. Why the heck is it on here? It belongs on Sheik Yerbouti or some other late-seventies album that I don't like too much anymore. For more blabber from me, head on over to the Prindle site when yer done here. But before you do, make sure you check out George's review of Winds of Change by the Animals. It makes me wanna hear it!
Year Of Release: 1969
Record rating = 8
Overall rating = 11
Frank blowing the fuse. Or was it 'the fusion'? Heh heh. A bunch
of crappy, boring, amazing, genial tunes.
Best song: PEACHES EN REGALIA
First of all, that's not Frank on the front cover. That's some chick.
Do you think good old Frank could really have resisted the chance to warm
our hearts One More Time with the sight of his goatee? No, no, that's a
groupie or somebody else - don't bug me, I'm no trivia provider.
Now what was I talking about? Oh, yeah. This album's very good, indeed.
It ain't as great as many people often put it - 'breathtaking' and 'groundbreaking'
and 'mindshaking' and all that. Leave these epithets for the Beatles. It
does break some new ground, of course; but you'd be surprised to hear me
say that, indeed, I like the record so much because it is NOT as experimental
as it is always hailed. Weasels Ripped My Flesh is experimental,
and much of it is shit. Lumpy Gravy... you get my drift. No, on
Hot Rats Frank proved again that when he wanted, he could
find that perfect balance between 'experiment' and 'enjoyability' that's
often lost in his more avantgarde and 'crazyass' work.
The record is mostly instrumental - the only vocals come on 'Willie The
Pimp', courtesy of Captain Beefheart - but, believe it or not, it does
have melodies, and is perfectly enjoyable as solid background music. It's
also rather hard to classify it in any way. Many fans describe it as 'jazzy',
but it doesn't seem all that jazzy to me - after all, extensive use of
brass instruments doesn't exactly guarantee you're in jazz. And 'Willie
The Pimp' doesn't even have any brass at all. I'd say that, while
the arrangements do seem a bit jazzy from time to time, the harmonies and
beats are more in the rock territory - in this way, we have to deal with
one of the first significant ventures into what is called 'fusion' territory.
Or, maybe, 'jazz-rock' territory (I still can't quite figure the difference
between the two).
Note, also, that the album is not credited to the Mothers - this
is Frank's official solo project, and maybe the record's compactness and
- howdja say it? - 'non-tunelessness' have a lot to do with the fact that
he wasn't just fooling around with his regular team of jackasses (no offense).
For those who can easily stand fourty-five minutes of boooorrring fusion,
Hot Rats might even serve as a perfect introduction to Frank's musical
versatility: you can easily buy this record and not be disgusted with the
man's main flaws (i.e. unlimited whackery and obscene lyrics).
Not that I really want to say everything on here is boring - if that were
the case, the album would never receive such a high rating. It's just that
there are but six tunes on the record, and three of them go over eight
minutes, a slight trouble that can eventually let you down. On the other
hand, Frank never puts you off with his most nasty trick - that is, flish-flashing
bits and snippets of a zillion musical themes before your eyes while you
can hardly concentrate on what's playing. Each of the themes is given enough
time, space and will to be developed and carried out to its natural conclusion.
And even when that is not so, he structures all the 'multi-part' experiences
in a clever way. The album opener, 'Peaches En Regalia', which is one of
his trademark tunes to this day, brilliantly showcases that: it's like
a short, four-minute overture to the rest, alternating about a dozen different
themes that range from pure jazz (brass-dominated) to folk (flute and steel
guitar-dominated). There's even some electronic drumming going on, for
Chrissake! And the main theme is very much in that same 'childish-jazz'
style that was so prominent on all the early Mothers' albums, so I can't
help but like the song.
'Willie The Pimp', then, is my second favourite song on here. Frank bases
the song on a gruff hard rock riff which he plays in unison with Sugar
Cane Harris' violin and Captain Beefheart singing the hilarious lyrics
in a schizophrenic, yet funny voice (it'd get worse from then on - check
my Bongo Fury review). After a couple minutes of vocals, though,
the song is transformed into a guitar fiesta - Frank just throttles his
guitar and refuses to let go for about six or seven minutes. I don't really
mind - it's one of these solos that really grab me, and the song should
be listened to loud and preferrably in headphones: Frank grabs you and
refuses to give you even a tiny second of rest as he pours down his flurry
of angry, pissed-off notes at the listener, never even changing the key
(I guess). At times, I feel like I'm going to sleep, but every now and
then the solo still gets me out of my slumber and soars and soars... truly
impressive.
I do not suppose, though, that I could describe the other four tunes equally
well. I think that the two shorter compositions, 'Little Umbrellas' and
'It Must Be A Camel', are really the weakest on here: they're too short
(in relativity, of course - 'Camel' drags on for five minutes) to really
be understood and assimilated, and rather scant on musical ideas. On the
other hand, 'Son Of Mr Green Genes' returns us to the pleasant 'childish
jazz' atmospheres, and 'The Gumbo Variations' are, well, might I say 'danceable'?
That bassline, it's almost a disco one... hee hee. Plus, 'Son Of Mr Green
Genes' has more stunning guitar workouts from Frank, and 'Variations' have
more stunning violin workouts from Sugar Cane, although I certainly could
do without the lengthy sax solo.
Some people will probably complain about the solos, but my personal opinion
is that the solos actually save the record. I mean, I'd rather hear
an intense, electrifying solo than have the band drag through half a dozen
so-so rhythm sections. Not that the rhythm sections suck on here, of course:
they don't. And the band is good - the music sounds fresh and invigorating,
and overall, more interesting and definitely more groundbreaking than Frank's
conceptual jazz-rock albums of 1972 like The Grand Wazoo. And, of
course, more rocking. Rock on, Frank!
It must be a camel! A human being couldn't have waited so long to send me his ideas!
Your worthy comments:
Mike DeFabio <defab4@earthlink.net> (24.01.2000)
I really like Hot Rats. The only song on here I don't think I
like is 'Little Umbrellas'. Doesn't do anything for me. But it's short!
'Son of Mister Green Genes' totally SQUASHES the dirgey Uncle Meat
version, and the 'Gumbo Variations' tries as hard as it can but fails to
bore me throughout its sixteen minutes. I also like 'It Must Be A Camel'.
Kinda.
Oh! And 'Peaches En Regalia' is on here! The song that got me interested
in Zappa in the first place! No... no wait, that would be 'Montana'. But
'Peaches' is a great song. I'm gonna start humming it right now! Hmmmmm
hmhmhm hm hm hm hmmmm hmmmmmmmmmm....
Ben Greenstein <bgreenstein@nctimes.net> (26.01.2000)
I'm very glad to see that you enjoy this record - I think that even a non-instrumental fan would have to admit that it's one of Zappa's most consistent and impressive albums. As for the jazz aspect - it IS all jazz, but such an odd branch of it that it's hard for most people to recognize. I agree that the two short songs on side two are probably the weakest, but I still think that they're great - I could listen to "It Must Be A Camel" for days! "Peaches" is the highlight, a psuedo-classical symphony with so much great melody that it makes you want to scream, but "Mr Green Genes" and "Willie The Pimp" are first rate as well. A ten, for me.
Philip Maddox <slurmsmckenzie@hotmail.com> (25.06.2000)
This is my second favorite Zappa album, behind Money. It's pretty much instrumental, like you say, but that hardly hurts the record. It gives you a chance to focus on Frank's music as opposed to his lyrics, which tend to overshadow the music sometimes. Anyway, you already summed it all up - this album rules. I even like the short songs on the second half, especially 'Little Umbrellas'. 'Peaches' and 'Willie' are the best songs on here, and they totally rule. Viva Frank, the guitar king! His solo on 'Willie' is easily one of the best solos I've ever heard. The only really weak thing about this record is the really, REALLY long sax solo that opens 'The Gumbo Variations'. A really, really, REALLY high 9. if that solo was about 5 minutes shorter, it'd be a ten.
<Nanook681@aol.com> (22.10.2000)
Boring? You call Hot Rats boring? I've had the CD for about 5
years now and I recently obtained the vinyl version (which is a little
different...very cool) and they're both one of my most listened to albums
that I own. I am a Zappa fanatic and I do side with you about how an album
like 'Weasels Ripped My Flesh' is boring and stuff, but Hot Rats?
[Special author note: this is
a clear case of somebody taking things way too literally.]
Year Of Release: 1970
Record rating = 9
Overall rating = 12
And he blows it (the fuse, that is) once again. Modern classical
at its most convincing.
Best song: THE LITTLE HOUSE I USED TO LIVE IN
Now this is the kind of record that really makes me understand why so
many fans are absolutely devoted to Zappa - lock, stock, and barrel. For
me, Sandwich is an even more attractive piece of music than Hot
Rats (no kidding - I do realise I'm alone on that one, though). If
you're looking for the Mothers in full flight and in all their bliss, demonstrating
why their music was indeed so important, innovative and exciting,
this is definitely the place to start.
Chronologically, Burnt Weeny Sandwich was supposed to initiate a
certain 'Zappa/Mothers retrospective' that Zappa planned to put together
already after the original Mothers dispersed and were no more (and Flo
and Eddie were forthcoming). He never got further than the second volume,
though - the infamous Weasels Ripped My Flesh; but the project itself
was highly laudable, considering that the Mothers had played tons of shows
all across the States and had left behind kilometers of tape with all kinds
of improvisations, jams, and gimmicks. And now it also seems to me that
the cream of the cream of these shows was put by Frank on the very first
tape - if Weasels wasn't an intentional nasty groove designed to
freak out the fans, of course.
The record is somewhat deceptive, being framed by two 'generic' doo-wop
numbers ('WPLJ' and 'Valarie'); both are great fun, though, especially
'WPLJ' with its hilarious alcoholic lyrics and crazy Spanish monolog at
the end, while 'Valarie' is supposed to put us in a romantic mood, and
succeeds at that. (Both songs are covers of doo-wop bands the Four Deuces
and Jackie and the Starlites, if you're really interested). But
in between the two you'll hardly find any vocals at all, not to mention
doo-wop: all the material there is devoted to Frank and the band exercising
themselves at some inspired work in the jazz-fusion and modern classical
genres. And as much as I'm usually scared of Zappa instrumental records,
there's not a single bad tune on here - this time. Everything works out
smooth and fine.
For starters, there is just a teeny-weeny bit of dissonance, on the two
parts of 'Igor's Boogie', a title that's again as funny as it is deceiving:
'Igor' might, of course, be a reference to Stravinsky, but as for 'boogie',
well... Basically, it's just thirty seconds of prime dissonance, reprised
twice; but who cares if it's so short? It can qualify as a special introduction
to the actual tunes, which aren't dissonant at all: they flow on steady
and self-assuredly, practically never falling apart.
'Overture To A Holiday In Berlin' is first, and it's very much in the 'Peaches
En Regalia' style: soft, relaxing, welcome jazzy sound, made tender and
slightly eighteenth-centuriesque by Ian Underwood's superb harpsichord.
The sound, then, is immediately diversified by throwing us into the 'Theme
From Burnt Weeny Sandwich', a somewhat more earthy jam with Frank flashing
his chops for several minutes. It is, however, enlivened very much by all
the percussion noises around it, which transform it from an ordinary rocking
piece into a bizarre rocking piece (way to go, Jimmy Carl Black!) 'Holiday
In Berlin' itself isn't one of my favourites, but I have nothing against
it; beginning as an improvisation around the main theme of 'Let's Make
The Water Turn Black', it then proceeds to become an almost cabaret-style
jazz salutation - not too surprising, considering the title.
The next two numbers, though, are the ones that really make the record
worth acuqiring. 'Aybe Sea' is certainly a rare pearl in Frank's catalog.
It's but three minutes long, and very easy to miss in the context of the
album: I myself often have trouble with assimilating all Zappa's compositions
on a certain record separately, but hey, if ye happen to browse through
this here review, heed my reminding: listen to this tune seriously.
The main star here is Ian Underwood with his piano and harpsichord improvisations
(mostly just 'covered' with an acoustic guitar and a bass). What I wish
to say is that this is a rare case of modern classical actually sounding
emotional - my main problem with 20th century classical music is
that far too often, it sounds just like a composer is trying to find some
new, previously unexploited chord progressions, completely neglecting the
golden rule - music is good music as long as it means something
to the listener. And 'Aybe Sea' manages to exploit these new sounds without
Frank's usual self-indulgence: it's really pretty, gentle and somewhat
melancholic, with not even a trace of the usual sarcasm and sneering that
- and I do mean it - is evident in at least ninety-nine percent of everything
Frank ever wrote. And what a cool title.
Almost seamlessly, 'Aybe Sea' then flows into 'The Little House I Used
To Live In', the magnum opus of the record. A multi-part suite, it is so
diverse, energetic, full of ingenious ideas and, at long last, rocking
(yeah, jazz-fusion can rock, too!), that its eighteen minutes can pass
almost unnoticed. A minute of Ian's piano improvs - and off we go, full
blast into the fire: trumpets and guitars blazing from every corner, with
Frank flashing his wah-wah pedal, and then comes perhaps the best part:
Sugar Cane Harris with arguably his best violin solo ever. If people tell
you violins can't rock out, don't believe them; just put on your trusty
Sandwich and dig in to the most energetic, vicious tearing apart
of an electric violin the world has ever heard. Afterwards, a lot of things
keep happening - they speed up and slow down, pass the baton to the harpsichord,
to the violin again, to the vibes and guitars, etc., etc.; at the last
notes, you're left exhausted, only to witness somebody shout to Frank 'Take
that uniform off!' and Frank replying 'Everybody in this room is wearing
a uniform, don't kid yourself!' And 'Valarie'.
Of course, when you're dealing with somebody as complex, weird and unpredictable
as Frank, it's practically impossible to tell your favourites - currently,
Burnt Weeny Sandwich amazes me more than Hot Rats ever could.
It can change, of course; but I still think that judging by the level of
energy, diversity and the number of sheer 'curiosities' (the 'doo-wop frame',
the solemn seriousness of 'Aybe Sea', the funny onstage replicas, etc.),
Sandwich is a more satisfying record. It really gives one tremendous
insight into Zappa's genius, if he ever had one. I do hate the album
cover, though - ugly, disgusting and thoroughly incomparable with any of
the moods on the record. That bloody hand with cut-off fingers makes me
sick! Yeeeoouw!
WPLJ really taste good to me, so mail your ideas on that one
Your worthy comments:
<DWARFNEBULA@aol.com> (01.04.2000)
I see you finally got around to picking up Burnt Weeny Sandwich.
And I see you were duly impressed. What'd I tell ya George? So was it worth
the price or what? "Aybe Sea" is truly awesome, ain't it?
Great review man, I'm with you totally on this one.
PS : <For me, Sandwich is an even more attractive
piece of music than Hot Rats (no kidding - I do realise I'm alone
on that one, though).> actually, you're not entirely alone...
I agree with you there too. I think Burnt Weeny Sandwich blows Hot
Rats clear out of the water. There's just no comparison at all, Sandwich
is vastly superior in my book.
Ben Greenstein <bgreenstein@nctimes.net> (27.04.2000)
I guess it is stronger than, or at least as strong as, Hot Rats... There's no "Peaches," but the whole thing flows really well. The doo-wop songs are placed perfectly so that you're never tempted to take it too seriosly, and the classical stuff is REALLY interesting. I wasn't expecting to, but I really have to give this a ten. I have no choice.
Year Of Release: 1970
Record rating = 6
Overall rating = 9
Some more live stuff, but without an edge this time, more for the
experienced fan.
Best song: MY GUITAR WANTS TO KILL YOUR MAMA
Yet another in a large series of live performances/studio outtakes collections
assembled and released by Frank around 1970, Weasels Ripped My Flesh
isn't really a heck of a great album, apart from the groovy album cover,
of course. This one has eleven tracks, all recorded around 1967-69 with
the original Mothers, and out of these eleven tracks, only about a half
are worth any bother at all.
For the most part, the band members just stand around and play their usual
atonal jazz jams - and when I say 'atonal', I don't mean half-measures:
it's easier to discern a melody in an 'N Sync tune than on any of the more
daring tracks here (that's not to denigrate Zappa, of course). From time
to time, however, they dilute them with a funny rock song or an 'experimental'
blues cover. The good word is that most of this stuff is definitely more
listenable than the worst stuff on Ahead Of Their Time: apart from
the final title track and a couple of other moments, they mostly do music,
not just bunches of cacophonous noise like in their famous 'play'. So I
can easily play this record throughout, all fourty minutes of it, without
getting too much of a headache. That, however, does not mean that I have
to enjoy all of it likewise. Out of the five main 'jazz' compositions,
only the bizarre 'Toads Of The Short Forest' really attracts my attention,
with its interesting structure and a title that matches the song essence
(Frank keeps abusing his froggy wah-wah pedal on that one), plus, somewhere
in the middle Frank proudly declares all the time signatures in which the
band members are playing simultaneously, combining practics with theory,
so to speak. And well, maybe I could tolerate a few more listens to 'Prelude
To The Afternoon Of A Sexually Aroused Gas Mask', a song that also matches
its title perfectly because the band members simulate a strange laughing
fit from time to time. That's it, though - the other songs may sport hilarious
titles for as much as I care, they don't do jack for me. After all, a seven
minutes running time is a wee bit high for 'songs' like 'Didja Get Any
Onya?' or 'The Eric Dolphy Memorial Barbecue', don't you think? Not to
mention that avantgarde jazzmen had already done this before and better,
I simply can't see any point in this kind of music - and nobody has ever
been able to express it to me, as of yet.
Fortunately, the album's, and Frank's, butt is saved by the inclusion of
some really worthy material as well. There's the cover of R. W. Penniman's
(aka Little Richard's, of course) 'Directly From My Heart To You', a spotlight
for Don Harris, who both sings and plays electric violin on it. Now as
for his singing, I could care less, but that violin is impressive
- I don't really know if somebody sometimes does that, but have you ever
heard a generic blues song with a violin as the lead instrument? Not me!
Moreover, as an incredibly witty lead instrument, imitating both guitar
and harmonica at times, ooh, that one's really cool. Then there's also
the short, but exciting 'Get A Little', a tune that distinguishes itself
in my memory as the one where Frank does a little Hendrix-job - picking
up a wah-wah and playing some tasty bluesy licks exactly a la Jimi
(no, I don't want to say I'm a great fan of Jimi's blues playing - but
a little bit of it won't hurt on any record, certainly not on a Zappa one).
And, of course, the only well-known Zappa classic you'll find here is the
anti-social jabbery of 'My Guitar Wants To Kill Your Mama', a brassy, catchy
and mean rocker that, regardless of all its advantages, nevertheless would
be considered filler on a truly classic Zappa record: heck, I think it's
worse than 'Penguin In Bondage', for goddamn sake. Here, though, it stands
out as the album's high point.
Now, the second half of the record is really more worthwhile - apart from
'My Guitar', there's a lyrics-complete version of 'Oh No', sung by Ray
Collins in an overblown, operatic manner, and a three-minute (hah!) version
of that terrific band & Frank-guitar showcase, 'The Orange County Lumber
Truck'. Here, of course, it's not as noticeable as on the ferocious version
off of Ahead Of Their Time: Frank does play some interesting guitar,
but nowhere near as fast, aggressive or energetic as on that one. I do
suppose the variant here is an abbreviated one, though, but if you happen
to like it, be sure to check out Ahead. The number still rumbles
and grumbles along as expected, as if you were trudging down along the
road doing a hundred and twenty. But, of course, this is bound to get you
in the wrong place - and the track (un)predictably ends abruptly and launches
into a few wild laughs and the most defiant track - one and a half minute
of pure, essential, unadulterated noise making (title track), before Frank
says 'good night' and everybody quits. Fascinating, isn't it?
Maybe not too much. I can't really give this one anything higher than a
six, because all the atonal jazz filler does one job: much as I like some
of the tracks on here, I almost never listen to the record because I hate
blundering through Frank's user-unfriendly ambitions. Well, come to think
of it, I still like this one more than Grand Wazoo, I'll admit.
For one thing, the Mothers were indeed an interesting band to listen
to - you never know which direction they will turn to next. Completely
unpredictable. One minute they're playing a jazz shuffle in 7/8 and the
next minute they start to rock out in 4/4. And these titles? 'Dwarf Nebula
Processional March?' Imagine that!
Didja get any onya? Whether you did or not, just mail me your ideas
Your worthy comments:
Ben Greenstein <bgreenstein@nctimes.net> (13.09.99)
I haven't heard most of the album yet, but I thought I would point out
that R.W. Penniman is the artist more commonly referred to as Little Richard.
The original version of "Directly From My Heart To You" is pretty
cool, so I can't wait to hear Frank's take on it.
Also, I don't get how you can say that "My Guitar..." wouldn't
stand out on any other Zappa album. I think it's his career peak! The complex
middle section alone is enough to found a new religon on, but it's also
surrounded by a great piece of rocking pop! I don't think he ever topped
this one, except maybe with "Peaches En Regalia."
Dan Watkins <dan_watkins@hotmail.com> (29.09.99)
Ah, this isn't an easy album to listen to. About half of the album is pretty cool, but the other half is harsh, jazz improv. Most of the cool stuff is on side two, but side one has its moments too. Like George said, this is an album for the experienced fan, but even I have trouble listening to some of it.
<DWARFNEBULA@aol.com> (06.04.2000)
A couple months back, I sent e-mail about your Lumpy Gravy review
where I compared Lumpy Gravy to Weasels Ripped My Flesh.
I busted on Weasels for being incomprehensible and claimed it was
probably the worst "60's Zappa" album. Yes, I'm fully aware that
the release date of Weasels was 1970, but remember that all the
stuff on Weasels was actually recorded from 1967-69, which is why
I am calling it "60's Zappa".
Anyway, over the last couple months I've been playing Weasels Ripped
My Flesh more often, and I'm gaining a newfound respect for it. I think
the main reason I didn't like it at first was because it's such an eccentric
recording, even for Zappa. After listening to the way 'Didja Get Any Onya'
plods along for nearly 7 minutes and go through one weird change after
another... or the way 'Prelude To The Afternoon Of A Sexually Aroused Gas
Mask' disintegrates midway through the song into hysterical laughter and
something that sounds like Luciano Pavarotti with his balls in a vice...
or the bizarre improvisations of 'The Eric Dolphy Memorial Barbecue'...
or the horrendous, discordant wall of noise that is the title track...
my first impression of Weasels was that Frank was just goofing around on
this one (although it was one of the most amusing album titles the guy
ever came up with, and I still remember the name of this album from way
back when I was a kid).
But then I reminded myself that Frank never just "goofed around".
No matter how silly he was with the lyrics to some of his songs, he was
always serious about the music itself. So I gave Weasels Ripped My Flesh
another chance, and I'm glad I did, because it's not half-bad.
Sugar Cane Harris does an impressive job on violin during 'Directly From
My Heart To You'... but then Harris rarely if ever lets you down when he's
got a violin in his hands. 'My Guitar Wants To Kill Your Mama' is one of
the highpoints of Zappa's early years, if only for the awesome guitar solo
which everyone and their mama seems to love. 'Oh No' and 'The Orange County
Lumber Truck' are two more really good, really solid tracks. And obviously
I like 'Dwarf Nebula Processional March' And 'Dwarf Nebula' at least a
little, since I took my screen name from this song -- yes George, imagine
that. Even the title track kinda grows on you after a few listens, if only
for the sheer auda city of the whole thing (chuckle).
I actually think the overall rating of 9 (on your 1-15 scale) was about
right for this album... a 9 or maybe a weak 10. It will never be my favorite
Zappa album, but it's still quite a respectable piece of musical creativity.
You just have to remember that most Zappa albums, being Zappa albums, are
a combination of both complex musical structures and sudden atonal weirdness,
and Weasels is a little heavy on sudden atonal weirdness. Still,
it's not as bad as I used to think it was. It's just hard to get into the
first time you play it, because everything blends together and leaves a
blurry afterimage in your mind. It's a deceptive album -- you have to give
it a few listens to get any kind of true feel for it. However, I want to
point out that Weasels Ripped My Flesh could never compare to something
like Burnt Weeny Sandwich. Now that's the album you REALLY want
to buy if you want the best of 60's era Zappa. It's another circa-1970
album of late 60's stuff, like Weasels, only better. "Theme
From Burnt Weeny Sandwich" easily gets my vote as the best Zappa song
of the 60's... "Aybe Sea" probably being my second choice.
Ben Greenstein <bgreenstein@nctimes.net> (27.04.2000)
Another album that I really shouldn't like but do. The whole thing is a big tribute to Eric Dolphy (not just that one song!), but the grooves are, in my opinion, more accesible than on a genuine album by the guy. I still don't get why John Coltrane doing this stuff is "respectable," but Zappa doing it is wierd. Ah, well. Every time I feel the album is getting to be too much for me, on comes "My Guitar" (that middle part certainly is the greatest piece of recorded music ever) and the "Oh No/Orange County Lumber Truck" suite, and I'm in heaven. A high eight.
Philip Maddox <slurmsmckenzie@hotmail.com> (25.06.2000)
I like this album way more than I should. I guess it's because all of
the actual songs are great, and the weirdness is actually pretty good for
once. 'Oh No' in particular stands out as a great song. I like the orchestral
versions on Lumpy Gravy better, but it isn't buried by 20+ minutes
of nonsense here. 'My Guitar' and 'Ornage County' are cool, too. Of the
weirder songs, I agree that 'Toads' is by far the best - that opening kinda
reminds me of 'Peaches En Regalia'. 'Didja get any Onya?' is ok, too. The
rest certainly isn't bad, but it's hardly great. It just kinda floats by.
I give it a high 7.
Oh, and the Little Richard cover is cool, too.
Year Of Release: 1970
Record rating = 8
Overall rating = 11
Rock fans could start here - this is fairly accessible stuff, and
extremely guitar-heavy, too.
Best song: TELL ME YOU LOVE ME
This album marks Frank's transition into the Flo and Eddie period -
a period which the fans mostly have a love-or-hate relation with. At this
point, Frank's trusty Mothers were joined by Mark Vollman and Howard Kaylan
of the Turtles' fame, better known as The Phlorescent Leech (Flo for short)
and Eddie. What the hell did Frank really need these guys for is just one
of these little mysteries that follows the man. They didn't play no instruments
and weren't supreme vocalists, either - in fact, quite often they sing
out of tune (no kidding). For the most part, Flo and Eddie just play the
role of stunt-performers, adding bits of silly (read: obscene) comedy and
blatantly stupid tricks to Frank's usual performance job. This has enraged
many of Frank's lovers to death, for what reason, I'm not sure: I suspect
it's a matter of jealousy, as Flo and Eddie's sense of perverted humor
was overshadowing Frank's own sense of perverted humor, and the fact that
he was deliberately hiding himself behind these dudes' backs from
time to time simply annoys those who - quite justly - believe that the
man was a million times more clever and professional at 'pulling stunts'
than these two leechy poseurs. On the positive side, Flo and Eddie never
messed with the music, and even if their behaviour pisses the hell out
of you, you can just pretend you don't know English and be off with it.
Not that Flo and Eddie are able to spoil much of Chunga's Revenge.
The album is, to a large point, instrumental, and even when the ex-Turtles
do sing lead vocals on here, they do it with verve and dedication, so that
it's hardly possible to blame them at all. Moreover, for those who are
more of a 'blues-rock' constitution than a 'jazz-fusion' one, the album
will be a real treat, maybe even more so than Hot Rats: the tunes
on here are far more rocking, with quite a few songs featuring no brass
instruments at all and the emphasis being primarily on Frank's guitar.
Even when Ian Underwood gets a mighty sax solo on the title track, he is
adding a wah-wah pedal to the instrument so that it sounds more like something
you pinch than something you blow.
A couple of the tracks do degenerate into show-offs at times, with Frank's
guitar playing professional and immaculate as usual, but not at his technical
best - I could, for instance, cut off a large chunk of 'The Nancy &
Mary Music' and not feel much difference. Not to mention that Aunsely Dunbar's
drum solo on that one is surprisingly uneffective - he's a skilled drummer,
no doubt about that, but he thrashes the cymbals so much it sounds more
like a mess than a demonstration of talents. I actually like Flo and Eddie's
'scat drum solo' at the end of the track far better - it's about the only
time that the dudes really get to do something 'stunt-like' on the record,
and it's so silly and funny that it actually works. And, while the sax
solo on the title track is effective, it's again followed by uninspired
guitar passages that apparently catch a very relaxed and absent state of
Frank's mind.
Much better is the version of 'Transylvania Boogie' captured on here -
especially considering the slick way in which the band suddenly changes
tempo midway through and passes from the paranoid jazzy beat to a relaxed
bluesy shuffle. 'Twenty Small Cigars' is a bit too short to make head or
tails of it, but the guitar/harpsichord interplay is quite cute. And 'The
Clap'? 'The Clap' is a parody on a drum solo! (Not Aunsley Dunbar's drum
solo, just about any drum solo). Frank records a minute-and-a-half pastiche
where he shows that, well, he can play drums too, overdubbing some silly
wooden block tapping over a regular drum pattern. Note that the composition
bears no similarity to Steve Howe's acoustic showcase 'The Clap', recorded
a year later, although the obvious interest that both gentlemen shared
towards sexually transmitted diseases might be worth noting.
As for the vocal tracks, most are swell - it's blues, baby, basic hot blues-rock
it is, with a bit of doo-wop thrown in now and then to diversify the proceedings.
'Tell Me You Love Me' virtually burns the house down, more so than 'My
Guitar Wants To Kill Your Mama' - the leaden, brontosauric riff and the
wah-wah staccato soloing, intertwined with Flo and Eddie's roaring intonations,
rock harder than practically anything Frank had recorded in that epoch.
'Road Ladies' is an unveiled attack on groupies, as is obvious from the
title, with an incredibly silly and captivating groove going on; 'Would
You Go All The Way?' sounds dangerous, but I'm a bit pressed as to what
the song's message really is - regardless, I'm quite surprised at how the
song manages to be so sing-along and catchy at one moment and so complex
and weird-tempoed in another during its two and a half minutes; 'Rudy Wants
To Buy Yez A Drink' is Frank attacking unions; and 'Sharleena' finishes
the record on a beautiful, simplistic note with one more tribute to Frank's
beloved doo-wop idols. Actually, the song is a hybrid between traditional
R'n'B and doo-wop, and now that I think of it, the melody is actually not
so simplistic at all. It's strange, though, that at times the number really
sweeps aside all parodic connotations and starts looking like a sincere
love song - when Frank and the ex-Turtles guys blurt out the lines 'CRYING...
for Sharleena... don't you kno-o-ow?', I almost catch a faint sniff of
genuine emotion. (No kidding). Three cheers for old Zappa here, although
in the long run I still prefer the lengthy version on Lost Episodes
- on there, 'Sharleena' was really transformed into an anthemic, majestic
showcase of everything that I so love about Frank.
As a whole, though, it's easy to see why this period was starting to spook
off fans: Frank was obviously flirting with stripped-down rock music at
the time, diminishing the role of the Mothers and emphasizing guitars and
more simple, accessible melodies. In this respect, Chunga's Revenge
is nowhere near as innovative or groundbreaking as Hot Rats or Uncle
Meat (not to mention Lumpy Gravy), but it's still Zappa, and
it's as far from 'conventional rock'n'roll' as can only be imaginable.
And I, for one, dig that sound: besides the fact that it's rarely dull
due to its parodic nature, it's full and engaging. Sometimes I even get
the sacrilegious thought that Frank was actually far better at doing blues-rock
stuff than doing fusion stuff, but hey, that's me, and I have my own perverse
musical tastes...
Would you go all the way so as to mail me your ideas?
Your worthy comments:
Ben Greenstein <bgreenstein@nctimes.net> (14.02.2000)
I agree on the eight. Some of the instrumentals are fantastic, like "Transylvania Boogie" and "Twenty Small Cigars," and the vocal tracks are all very first rate as well. "Would You Go All The Way" sometimes threatens to become my favourite, but "Tell Me You Love Me" is the defenite show-stopper. I'm not a huge fan of "Road Ladies," and this version of "Sharleena" (along with all other versions save Lost Episodes) does not cut the mustard with me. Still, a really fun album. Like I say, an eight.
Thomas M. Silvestri <cc3000@earthlink.net> (07.10.2000)
The Turtles sing quite well on this album, which I like a lot even if
it doesn't have the multi-dimensionality of the original Mothers. But as
I recall it, Mothers fans' outrage over Flo and Eddie's joining the band
stemmed mostly from (a) the fact that they didn't sound as cool as Ray
Collins, and (b) the Turtles had been a joke to many people since that
line on the inside cover of Freak Out, and folks just couldn't accept those
former joke figures now going onstage with ol' Frank. It was probably the
closest Zappa ever came to "selling out" -- meaning not very
close!
P.S. to George: Not being American, the reference to the USO on "Would
You Go All the Way" probably threw you, eh? The song is about a girl
having to go out with a really square U.S. serviceman ("the Monster")
or at least hypthothetically having to do so, and it asks the question
of just "how far she would go" sexually on said undesirable date.
("Would you go all the way for the USA?/Would you go all the way for
the USO?," etc.) Indeed, the real cleverness -- and pure Zappa-ness
-- of the song is how it mixes, both lyrically and musically, two of his
obsessions, namely cheap horror movies and anti-militarism.
Year Of Release: 1972
Record rating = 7
Overall rating = 10
More jazz? Artsy jazz? Conceptual jazz? What the hell, we'll
just have to take it.
Best song: YOUR MOUTH
Sometime in December 1971 Frank had an infamous stage incident when
some demented fan threw him off the stage and caused him severe injuries
resulting in a relatively long (for Frank, at least) period of inactivity.
Now I'm by no means a Qualified Patented Frank Zappa expert, and even the
idea of becoming one would horrify me to the state of total paranoia, but
from what I've read, heard and deduced, the line between the early, exuberant
Mothers Of Invention' Zappa and the late solo dirty parodist Zappa (rough
definitions, but you know what I mean, anyway) passes somewhere in here.
In that way, the incident might be easily associated with the not-less-famous
Dylan motorcycle accident: both had a serious impact on the artists' lives
and, more important, the directions of their creativity. A lesson to all
you 'young rockers' in desperate need of diversity: go bash your head against
the wall. Either you'll die and the world will get rid of your nuisance
or, at least, you'll have a chance of becoming different from what you
are. (Hey, in case you haven't really understood, that last phrase was
fifty percent tongue-in-cheek).
Anyway, somewhere in between Hot Rats and Overnite Sensation
lie Frank's two 1972 projects which he mostly wrote while staying in bed:
Waka/Jawaka and The Grand Wazoo. Some fans deify these two
records more than the New Testament, and it's easy to see why: both are
very serious, very complex and very intriguing composing projects, among
the most ambitious Frank ever had. Now I don't usually count Frank as a
'progressive' artist, as he really would never fit into the same slot with
Yes or Genesis, but these two records can really only be qualified as 'progressive
jazz', as the level of complexity and musical professionalism displayed
on these records outmatches almost everything else Zappa wrote in the 'jazz'
genre.
Not that 'complexity' and 'professionalism' equals 'enjoyability', mind
you. Waka/Jawaka basically consists of two short vocal tracks and
two lengthy instrumental suites, and it's up to your tastes whether you
can really digest them or not. On first listen, I was really impressed:
the multiple-layered musical textures on the title track and 'Big Swifty'
sometimes seem nearly impossible to be provided by a mortal man, and more
or less everything works. Frank has assembled a great backing band, with
loads of professional players I won't really be go a-namin' as it would
take quite a long time, and whether it be the immaculate brass, the impressive
organ swirls, or Frank's own fluid guitar playing, there ain't a single
complaint to be directed against 'em. And a few parts of both 'tunes' are
downright luvly, although you have to really fish them out from the stuff
that's completely non-resonant emotionally. The synth solo that comes early
on in 'Waka/Jawaka', for instance, is really something, as is the magnificent
brass intro. But none of the stuff is really memorable (my worst problem
with Frank in general), and that kills all the excitement for me as soon
as the album's over. Well, count me in a good mood today, and moreover,
I'm listening to the title track right now and I'm liking it which I won't
be in about five minutes, so I take the opportunity to give the album an
overall rating of ten which it really deserves.
Oh, it probably also has something to do with the fact that, unlike Wazoo,
this particular record also has the two short vocal tracks. 'Your Mouth'
is a terrific little jazz number in the more 'traditional' style, sung
with great conviction by some of Frank's pals from the brass section, and
it totally reinstates my faith in Zappa as a qualified composer of catchy
ditties after the long 'intellectual torture' of 'Big Swifty'. And 'It
Just Might Be A One-Shot Deal' is quite a strange one: it's one of these
rare occasions when Frank does something completely different - here he
goes for creating a weird jazz-country stylization, bringing in the famous
country player Sneaky Pete Kleinow to deliver a beautiful pedal steel solo.
The vocals are quite hilarious, too, and the tune is a great 'hold-your-breath'
intro for the excruciating masochistic pleasures of the title track.
Now don't get me wrong: I actually enjoy the title track, together with
'Big Swifty'. It's definitely bigger than simple background music, but
it's just that I couldn't really describe this kind of music even if I
really wanted to. It completely lacks any emotional resonance - and I do
mean it - and, while the playing is as professional as can only be, the
only bits of true virtuosity are hidden somewhere in the depths of Frank's
guitar solos. It's less catchy than Hot Rats: at least, Hot Rats
really rocked, and there was a lot of funny, energetic, invigorating activity
going on; Waka/Jawaka might be more perfect in that 'technical'
sense, but it's rather soulless in comparison to Rats. The big news
is that this ain't no avant-garde: well, from a certain sense of the word,
it is, but not in the meaning 'stupid dissonant chord sequences
and bunches of incoherent noises' like the stuff you can hear on Lumpy
Gravy or that performance on Ahead Of Their Time. All the time,
the musicians actually play melodies, complicated as they can be, and sometimes
quite interesting ones at that. Which means that you can easily put it
on any time o' day and night and not be afraid of your friends calling
you a stupid freak.
Definitely not among Frank's best, but certainly among one of his most
important marking-time albums, together with the far more pompous but even
less interesting Grand Wazoo.
Your mouth is your religion: speak out your ideas!
Your worthy comments:
Philip Maddox <slurmsmckenzie@hotmail.com> (26.06.2000)
This record isn't really bad, but it can be a bit boring at times. Actually,
I really like the opening 'Big Swifty'. Even though it's a little too long,
the melody is pretty cool, and the solos and playing are superb. It's my
favorite Zappa long-jazz composition - it blows both 'King Kong' and 'The
Gumbo Variations' away (though I've never heard The Grand Wazoo).
Unfortunatelly, the album lets down a bit after that - 'Your Mouth' and
'It Just Might Be a One Shot Deal' are decent blues/country excursions,
but they're nowhere near being classics. They don't fit the mood of the
rest of the record, though. The concluding title track doesn't do much
for me either - it's not half as good as 'Big Swifty'. It just drags and
drags and drags - it seems much longer than 'Big Swifty' even though it's
actually about 6 minutes shorter. But again, it's not bad. I second the
7. Definately not a bad way to kill 40 minutes.
Year Of Release: 1972
Record rating = 5
Overall rating = 8
A parody on a concept album or a series of mind-numbing jazz improvisations?
Or both?...
Best song: CLETUS AWREETUS-AWRIGHTUS
I actually got Wazoo before I had a chance to listen to Waka/Jawaka,
and didn't like it all - long-winded, boring and musically unentertaining,
that's what it was for me. Below you'll find a warning from Dan Watkins
that if you don't like Wazoo, you're bound to dislike W/J,
and that seems to be the more or less general opinion of the fans - that
Waka/Jawaka was only a half-assed taster of things to come, while
Wazoo displays Frank's prog-jazz ambitions with far more efficiency.
Well, I finally got W/J, and, much to my surprise, I found out that
I rather, err, favoured it. So here I go, like, 'hey, maybe my musical
taste has improved? Where was that Wazoo CD again?' And here I goes
and I grabs that CD and I plops it onto the deck and so what? It still
stinks.
I really like this far less than W/J. I guess it has something to
do with my not favouring these crucial moments when a musician's ambitions
finally get the best of him and overwhelm the true artistic creativity.
I like Yes' Fragile and dislike Close To The Edge; like Genesis'
Selling England By The Pound and dislike The Lamb; like Jethro
Tull's Thick As A Brick and dislike Passion Play, etc., etc.
In the same row I place the opposition of Waka and Wazoo.
The first album was pretty, funny, tuneful and often catchy. Wazoo
is far too pompous, dissonant, overstuffed with zillions of instruments
and sound effects that don't do anything and has far too few really interesting
musical themes. Yeah, the pomp of 'Cleetus Awreetus' still makes me feel
glad all over, but that's it. There's a clear disbalance on this album
- too many ideas, but too few musical ones. What follows now is my old
review of Wazoo, the one that was written before I got Waka/Jawaka:
please keep the short intro in mind when you browse through it.
No Mothers of Invention here, and not a hint at their mind-bogging, sloppy,
paranoid albums of the earliest Seventies - this is a perfectly normal
album, at least, audio-wise. Visually, it's a 'rock opera'... yeah, right.
Not that concept albums were exceedingly popular around 1973: people were
already getting sick of long-winded, 'intellectual' records, but apparently
Frank wasn't yet aware of the fact. So he made up this parody album...
er, well, sorry, not entirely true. See, the 'parody' element is limited
to the album sleeve and liner notes that tell the story of the Roman general
Cletus Awreetus-Awrightus who chased away some Babylonian bastards with
the use of a magical horn called The Grand Wazoo... all that shit, anyway.
The album cover is actually quite entertaining, by the way.
However, this is probably the only concept album in the world that's
almost purely instrumental - the only lyrics are encountered at the very
beginning of 'For Calvin' (of course, you could also count in some scat
singing in 'Cletus Awreetus-Awrightus', but it has no actual words that
I'm aware of). This means that if by any unfortunate chance you lose the
album sleeve, you'll soon forget about the 'parody' element and be left
with a deadly dull album, full to the brink with rambling, unstructured
jazz jams. If you're a Zappa freak and only waiting for a decent excuse
to flame me, I'll give you none: apart from the epithet 'deadly dull',
which it really is to me, I really don't know what to say about the record
- I feel baffled myself, just like I felt baffled when listening to Ruben
& The Jets. Fact is, there is some really treasurable (probably)
jazz music on here, but I'm not a great fan of jazz and I can't even pronounce
any judgements here - all I can say is that the music mostly sounds, well,
competent. The album is normally dominated by keyboard player George
Duke, but that doesn't mean the sound is entirely piano-based - horns and
guitars are all over the record, and, in fact, some of the guitar-work
is quite first-rate and not very jazz-based. In fact, the second side is
pretty much all listenable - it stands with the intentionally hilarious
'Cletus Awreetus-Awrightus', whose pompous speeches are 'encoded' with
a tuba solo, proceeds to entertain you with 'Eat That Question', a harder,
funkier type of groove with some furious solos, and finally calms down
the 'battle' with the soothing 'Blessed Relief'.
The first side, though, is a mess: 'For Calvin', despite having the only
lyrics on the album, turns out to be just a bunch of incoherent, almost
atonal noises produced by all the instruments available at once (and believe
me, there's quite a lot of 'em), reminding me of the worst King Crimson
excesses; and I'm certainly not a big supporter of the title track, a jazz-funk
composition that runs through a zillion different sections and disjointed
musical phrases. Oh, say what ye will and say what ye won't, but it's simply
boring - professional, but boring. (That's exactly why I dislike classical
jazz so very much - flashy and pointless). I guess Frank just wanted to
play some more jazz jams and the idea of presenting this in the form of
a mock concept album was an afterthought.
Oh, come to think of it, it ain't jazz at all. I'd bet you anything this
is what 'em clever people call 'fusion' - the most miserable genre of all
epochs. A genre that takes some valid elements of jazz and some valid elements
of rock and proceeds to make an invalid hybrid out of them. Then again,
maybe Master Zappa just wanted to demonstrate us the unlimited possibilities
of genre combining. Even so, give me some mid-Seventies Jeff Beck over
this stuff any time of day or night - at least, he can play his guitar
like nobody can. But man, are these 'la-la-la's in 'Cletus' cool! Frank
almost sounds stoned, which he never was, of course, but always pretended
to be - at least, metaphorically. End.
Eat that question - where are your ideas?
Your worthy comments:
Dan Watkins <danwatkins@hotmail.com> (09.09.99)
Uh-oh. A five? I'm not a big jazz fanatic either, but I LOVE THIS ALBUM!!!! I guess this is one that you'll either love or not like at all. I avoided the word "hate" because I think there are enough hooks here and there that could please your average rock album purchaser. I love everything on the album. A definite 10 in my book... hell, make that a 20. A small warning: if you don't like this one, you better stay away from Waka/Jawaka. It's pretty much in the same vein as this album.
<DWARFNEBULA@aol.com> (14.02.2000)
A five? Come on now. Just my humble opinion here, but I think the rating
of five for The Grand Wazoo was about fifteen points too low. This
is probably one of my three favorite Zappa albums. Believe it or not, I
play this cd more than almost any other cd in my collection. And I don't
mean my Zappa cd collection, I mean my ENTIRE cd collection, and that's
not small.
I think I see what you were getting at when you condemned musical fusions.
I do agree that attempts at fusion often muddle things up between "legitimate"
genres like jazz and rock (although I think Steely Dan did a helluva good
job). But I don't think this is the case with The Grand Wazoo. For
starters, the title track is ambitious as all hell, absolutely monstrous
experimentation, a bit long maybe but it never put me to sleep. For 'Calvin
and His Next 2 Hitchhikers' (my favorite track on the album) has that creepy,
spaced-out feel that epitomizes a lot of Zappa's best work -- between the
ominous title and the mentally-unbalanced sounding TWANGGG! of the opening
chords, Calvin sounds a little like what "serial killer theme music"
might sound like, if you see what I'm saying, and all the atonal weirdness
only adds to its overall charm. The beginning lyrics, "Where did they
go? When did they come from?" still intrigue the hell out of me --
exactly who or what is Calvin, anyway???
'Cletus Awreetus Awrightus' is just so damn enthusiastic that you gotta
like it, and that single unforgettable moment when the guitar comes in
during the middle of 'Eat That Question' has to be one of the sweetest
moments in the history of music. About the only song on the album I'm luke-warm
on is 'Blessed Relief'... which at times wanders into something like you'd
expect to hear playing in the background during a love scene in Shaft.
But even this song has its moments.
I can understand why a lot of people say "dude, if you don't like
this one you won't like Waka/Jawaka" because they are similiar.
But the funny thing is, I totally love The Grand Wazoo and I'm not
entirely crazy about Waka/Jawaka. No accounting for taste I guess.
I realize this response was probably too long for you to post on your site,
understandably, but I really can't say enough good things about this album.
I'd suggest giving it another listen or three, it's the kind of album that
grows on ya over time.
Ben Greenstein <bgreenstein@nctimes.net> (14.02.2000)
Well, I like it. Not as much as most fans, but I still think that it's often fascinating and rarely boring. I don't understand where you get off insulting the title track - that's the best song on here! I give it an eight.
Year Of Release: 1973
Record rating = 8
Overall rating = 11
Zappa's first 'normal' album - depending on what one means by 'normal',
of course - and a great start.
Best song: I'M THE SLIME
Yeah, this is the first more or less 'conventional' record produced
by Zappa (if you don't count Ruben & The Jets, of course), in
that it just consists of seven 'normal' rock songs, well, at least they're
'normal' by Frank's own standarts. They're also all brilliant - most of
them have something interesting to offer, and some just kick you in the
you-know-where with all the great sneering might of Mr Zappa that hasn't
diminished an inch since WOIIFTM. Not to mention the excellent instrumental
backup - his then-current band was quite skilled, and Frank himself adds
punchy wah-wah leads to many selections that show he could have easily
become a well-known blues or heavy metal guitar legend - if he'd wanted
to.
What he really wanted, then, was... ah, wait. I guess there's one
thing that should be said about most of Frank's records from now on: they
weren't innovative, yeah, at all. Frank's revolutionary instincts were
all spent in his Mothers of Invention days, and he probably decided he'd
already pushed rock music to its ultimate limits. Well, he was probably
right: what else can a poor boy do, after all, except to sing in a rock'n'roll
band, now that the revolution is over? I don't blame Frank for sticking
to his legend status and cashing in on it for the next twenty years...
wait again, 'cashing in' is not the proper expression here - you'd think
he was making millions with his records, which is hardly possible considering
his relations with the mainstream. 'Building on it' might be better, but
then you'd get the impression that he was having some serious developments
going on which he wasn't... never mind, you find that definition yourself.
What I really wanted to say was that these post-Mothers records are still
extremely enjoyable, just not as groundbreaking. On the other hand, if
you can't stand sloppy noise, you'll probably enjoy them more than his
really avantgarde Sixties output.
All right, back to the record. Well, it starts out pretty normal, with
the brilliant Mexican-style send-up 'Camarillo Brillo' where Frank seems
to be parodying Rod Stewart and his tales of meetings with women. Or, well,
maybe Rod Stewart has nothing to do with it (actually, the rhythm seems
more like Bruce Springsteen to me), but the song is hilarious, and it also
features a pretty, memorable melody and a crunchy little bark on the word
'dwarf'. I like it when people bark out the word 'dwarf', though I probably
won't be able to explain you why. On 'I Am The Slime', Frank bugs you with
one of the most vicious TV-bashing set of lyrics you ever heard, sung in
a deep, scary voice that's perfectly normal for slime oozing out of your
TV set. Funny, it reminds me a little of contemporary Ray Davies songs,
especially the ones on Preservation and Soap Opera. You figure
the reason out for yourselves. 'Dirty Love' has an upbeat, catchy jazzy
melody that will get you involved any minute once you manage not to mention
the lyrics that seem to be about having sex with a poodle (I'm not too
sure, but looks very much like it). And another definite highlight, the
raving, frantic '50/50' closes the first side with over-the-top, throat-destructive
vocals from Ricky Lancelotti, apparently, Frank just couldn't reach that
furious level where your voice sounds more mad wolf than human. Anyway,
these vocals just perfectly fit the song, an ideal Anthem of the Middle
Class Idiot who knows he 'ain't cute' and whose 'voice is ka-poot'. Eh?
And the keyboards and guitar solos that turn the song into a jam halfway
through are quite a treat, too.
Unfortunately, the second side lets the album down a little. I finally
got used to 'Zombie Woof', Frank's first in a row of sickening parodies
on gothic horrors (ain't it ironic that Frank was writing such songs and
producing Alice Cooper records at the same time?); however, 'Dinah-Moe-Hum'
features atrocious lyrics, all about Frank having sex with a girl
and her sister, that I simply can't stand and have ditched the album a
whole point for it. Well, not only this: you might reasonably object that
Frank's smutty lyrics have to be taken as they are, with a grain of salt
and all that. The problem is that they're not compensated with a great
melody - the song starts out fine, with a chuggin' little bass riff and
some catchy pop harmonies, but then it gets to the lengthy middle section
describing the details of the process of copulation(s) where everything
but the riff disappears and you just have to endure Frank's Freudist parables
set to a monotous 'chug-a-chug-a-chug-a-chug...' I hate that. And
I'm also not a great fan of 'Montana', Frank's 'travelogue' about going
there to settle down and go into dental floss. ??? . How really funny!
The melody is kinda iffy, though, and repetitive as hell - but anyway,
even a heavy chunk of Lumpy Gravy will look like Beethoven after
'Dinah-Moe-Hum'. Skip that song and you'll get yourself a terrific rock/jazz/blues
album. And don't you think that the record's charm lies exclusively in
the lyrics - Frank could really pen some captivating melodies as well.
Not to mention that this and especially the following record were among
his hugest commercial successes - even if 'huge commercial success' for
Zappa is not quite the same as 'huge commercial success' for the Rolling
Stones or Michael Jackson. Not that he ever complained...
I am the slime, ain't I? Mail your ideas to the slime!
Your worthy comments:
Dan Watkins <dan_watkins@hotmail.com> (09.09.99)
What can I say? It's one of Frank's most well-know albums. The whole album is pretty good. Those who don't like guitar solos need to check this one out. Every solo is great. My only complaint is that the album is too short. Same thing for Apostrophe.
Ben Greenstein <bgreenstein@nctimes.net> (10.10.99)
Zappa's most song-based album, it's chock full of classics, most of which are incredible. In fact, I think that every song except "50/50" is on some compilation or another. Personal favourites are "Camarillo Brillo" (awesome melody, and the best dwarf-barking I've heard yet), "Montana" (which is hilarious, and not as unmelodic as you seem to think), and "I'm The Slime" (Frank's first expiriment with rap - and years before anyone else did the genre!). The licks in "Zomby Woof" and the awesome "Dirty Love" remind me of Led Zeppelin (only better), and, although I'm not overly fond of the disco monologue section of "Dina-Moe Humm," I really like the first couple of minutes - especially the "you ain't been to it" part. A near-perfect album - somewhere in between an eight and a nine.
Philip Maddox <slurmsmckenzie@hotmail.com> (08.07.2000)
I like this one a good bit - an 8, if you will. 'Camarillo Brillo' is an ok opener, but not really great. And 'Zombie Woof' has some slow parts in it. Other than that, it's hard to go wrong with this one. 'I'm The Slime' and 'Dirty Love' groove like nobody's business, 'Montana' has some of the most blistering guitar solos ever, and 'Dinah Moe Humm' is hilarious! I even like the middle bit - the lyrics are funny, and the rhythm sucks you in. Like I said, an 8. This is certainly more normal than other Zappa albums, but it's still hard to call this "normal" - 'Dirty Love' is about sex with poodles, for god's sake! And doesn't that middle part of '50/50' sound like the Simpsons theme song?
Mike DeFabio <defab4@earthlink.net> (09.09.2000)
I'd give this a somewhat lower rating than Apostrophe. 'Dinah Moe Humm' annoyingly predicts his late seventies "dirty sex period." Is that supposed to be funny? I thought it was funny at one point in time, but people, I've become a more mature human being since then, and I've come to realize that that song is really boring and stupid. And this is coming from a guy who still listens to the Low Maintenance Perennials. Anyway, 'Montana' is an absolute classic. The first time I heard that song (on the radio!) I knew I had to find it. 'I'm The Slime' is great too. I'd give it a real low eight.
Year Of Release: 1974
Record rating = 7
Overall rating = 10
A jazzy-messy rock-opera about the yellow snow. Hilarious but not
very solid musically.
Best song: STINK FOOT
Right, so there was this Eskimo called Nanook whose mother always warned
him not to eat the yellow snow, but one day he witnessed a strictly commercial
fur trapper beat up his favourite baby seal with a lead filled snow shoe,
so he picked up some yellow snow and rubbed it into the fur trapper's eyes
whereupon the latter went blind, and then he got angry and did likewise
to Nanook, and then suddenly he remembered an old legend that said if Nanook
rubbed your eyes with yellow snow, you should cross the tundra in search
of the parish of St Alfonzo where Father O'Blivion bakes his incredible
pancakes and...
...wait a minute, no! I'm not delirious. Actually, this is the main
storyline of this rock opera, the first in a series of mock-concept albums
- a genre most beloved by Frank in the Seventies. And if you're wondering
what comes next, let me tell you that this is only the most trivial and
unerstandable part of the story. Further subject matters include the Mystery
Man jivin' with that Cosmik Debris, the state of the chin of the Pup Tentacle,
an illusionary Uncle Remus, the horrible disease of Stink Foot and reappearances
of the Grand Wazoo and the poodle from Overnite Sensation. ???????
Now don't you worry, there's just a little cosmic humour! The problem is
that the humor on Sensation was somewhat more funny and accessible
- this one's a bit irritating and certainly way too esoteric. If this is
really a parody on rock operas, it's not a very good one, and it doesn't
have anything to do with The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway, either
(that one came out several months later, even though the storyline is just
as nonsensic as in Apostrophe'). The lyrics are totally absurd,
and not too amusing at that - there's nothing like the 'call any vegetable'
vibe on the album. There are moments, now and then, but this is not really
satire, and there are too few interesting wordgames for me to feel really
excited.
More serious is the problem that, being heavily preoccupied with the storyline,
Frank did not really bother to set it to a decent 'soundtrack' - this is
the flaw that he shared with real rock opera writers. Whereas Overnite
Sensation demonstrated that Zappa could easily be transformed into
an original and entertaining rock composer, not too many of the tunes here
can be qualified as real 'songs' - much too often, they're just the background
for his narrations of the storyline ('Nanook Rubs It', 'Don't Eat The Yellow
Snow', etc.) Nevertheless, they still sound good, of course, because Frank's
band was highly skilled and used to the eccentricity of its leader: George
Duke still holds down the keyboardist position and handles it splendidly,
and Ian Underwood contributes magnificent saxophone work. Frank himself
is in top form with some more splendid guitar solos, particularly on the
instrumental title track and the closing bluesy 'Stink Foot'. But no amount
of instrumental skill can save the 'songs' from being little more than
passable, dull background music.
You really know you're in trouble when such a song as 'Stink Foot',
with its attractive gruff metallic vocals, blues rhythm and stinging wah-wah
solos turns out to be the best on the album - it's good, but it's rather
predictable: we've already seen this Zappa-treatment of blues on many previous
tracks, starting with 'Trouble Every Day' eight years ago (where it was
faster and more exciting, by the way). The big difference here is that
weird guitar tone, of course, never again reproduced by Frank; to me, it
sounds like steel guitar let through a wah-wah pedal - am I wrong? Several
other tracks (and there's not too many of them - the album doesn't really
exceed half an hour) also approach brilliancy: thus, 'Father O'Blivion'
is built upon a tight, lightning-speed riff that sends your head whirlin',
and the soulful rocker 'Uncle Remus' is a classic as well. Even so, 'Remus'
is just very short, and 'Father O'Blivion' degenerates into a psychedelic
mess after just about a minute of this tasty riff.
People also seem to love 'Cosmik Debris', and I also appreciate its jazzy
groove - an excellent and highly accessible composition with the catchiest
melody on the record. But 'Stink Foot' is very similar in mood and melody,
and it doesn't have the annoying female backup voices, but has some of
these cool wah-wah solos, so I just think 'Debris' pales in comparison.
And the title track is a major point of controversy: some might see it
as a fantastic showcase for Frank and his guitar playing, while some might
regard it as boring and show-off-ey. It's probably okay, but we certainly
had better guitar from Frank ('Stink Foot', for example!)
Essentially, the album is just pointless - a very mediocre parody, some
average songwriting and brilliant performing don't make up for a classic
in my book. I still upgrade my former rating of six to a seven because
repeated listenings manage to solidify the melodies of all the actual "songs"
in my mind, but I doubt it will ever go any further; I do also agree with
Ben below that it might have worked better if it were longer - like
a predecessor to some real classics like Joe's Garage; the short
grooves on here might seem economic, but they just don't make that much
of an impression. Funny how Frank could easily alternate minor masterpieces
like Overnite Sensation with so-so works like this toss-off? It
looks like it was written and recorded in a week's time, maybe in two days
- who knows? Of course, this was also his biggest commercial success, but
I guess that goes without saying. People are jerks. Of course, that also
means that Frank would have no problem in becoming a major pop star if
he ever wanted to: which says a lot in favour of his talent.
Don't eat the yellow snow, better mail me your ideas
Your worthy comments:
Ben Greenstein <bgreenstein@nctimes.net> (15.11.99)
I'd give it a six as well. I really, really like "Cosmik Debris," "Uncle Remus," and "Don't Eat The Yellow Snow/Nanook Rubs It" (which is like a whole new world if you've heard the single version), and the rest of the songs are certainly okay, but as a whole it does nothing. Just as you think it's about to get exciting, the first side ends, leaving you with only four songs. And then BOOM - it's over. An overlong, pretentious rock opera would have been better. As it is, it just sounds half-baked.
Eric Kline <Eric.Kline@BestBuy.com> (03.02.2000)
"not very solid musically"?
what the hell does that mean?
are you one of those music tech idiots who listen to zappa because your
jaded teachers at the tech told you to?
this is zappa's most straightforward, accessible release. and it is also,
easily, one of his best.
recorded with his best band (god bless george duke and ruth underwood),
it is actually very understated and concise. funny and catchy. this is
frank's finest moment of melding rock, jazz, humor, satire and yellow snow.
it is also his best sounding album.
this is the one zappa album that people who don't dig his "out there"
stuff would like.
Simply, it is one of the better rock albums of the '70's.
Ben Greenstein <bgreenstein@nctimes.net> (27.04.2000)
Scratch my previous comment. What the hell was I thinking? This gets a very, very high nine. "Father O'Blivion" kicks!
Philip Maddox <slurmsmckenzie@hotmail.com> (26.06.2000)
Hey! I disagree on this one. I think this is a great album. It was the first complete Zappa album I ever hear (it was on a twofer with Overnite Sensation - I borrowed it from a friend. For some reason, they put Apostrophe on first, even though it came out second). This record is chock full of great musical ideas. I LOVE the entire first side, in particular. The 'Yellow Snow' suite is total nonsense, but it's funny, catchy, and EXTREMELY well played. I find myself muttering the words to myself all day. Awesome, awesome stuff. Then comes 'Cosmik Debris', which I think is great, too. The lyrics are again hilarious, and the blues tone to the song fits perfectly. It always get's my head a bobbin'. Side 2 isn't quite as good, though - it starts out strong with the catchy 'Excentrifugal Forz', but then becomes the long, mostly boring instrumental title track. It's well played, but never goes anywhere and basically just bores me. It's not bad, mind you, just not that great. 'Uncle Remus' comes up after that with a groovy soul vibe and more funny lyrics ("I can't wait till my 'fro is full grown!"). 'Stink Foot' is ok, but I don't think it's the best song on here. It's still good, but it's sure no 'Trouble Every Day', like you said. I'd give it an 8 - a point off for being too short, and a point of for the title track. I play this album a whole lot, still. It's both funny and well crafted - what more could you want?
Mike DeFabio <defab4@earthlink.net> (09.09.2000)
Great, great album. So catchy! And funny! I'm sorry, the concept of
yellow snow does strike me as screamingly funny. This guy had a way with
words. The suite on side one is hilarious. It's too short, but it's better
to have a great short album with no filler than a two disc set with a half
hour of good material (ahem... Joe's Garage.) Try to find the out
of print version, with Overnite Sensation tacked on to the end (aye,
aye, that's the one I have! Youpee! - G. S.).
And I'm pretty sure that weird guitar sound in Stink Foot is created
by means of an envelope filter.
Oh, I forgot! This album, in places, sounds a whole lot like what Steely
Dan was doing at the time. That insane chord progression at the end of
'St. Alphonzo's Pancake Breakfast' in particular. It sounds like a cross
between that synth riff at the end of 'King of the World' (if you've heard
that song) and the main melody of ELP's 'Karn Evil 9: Second Impression'.
Just an observation.
Year Of Release: 1974
Record rating = 9
Overall rating = 12
Frank with his tightest band ever, playing music of such astonishing
complexity (live!) that even those who HATE complex music... well, you
get me.
Best song: ECHIDNA'S ARF (OF YOU)/DON'T YOU EVER WASH THAT THING
Aaahhh... now that's what I call a live album. Now I'll refrain
from calling this record 'Frank's greatest live album', as so many fans
do, simply because in Frank's case it's very difficult to draw an exact
line between a studio and a live album; not to mention all the innumerable
You Can't Do That On Stage Anymore series none of which I have yet
heard. But this listening experience is really something. The material
is practically all new, and technically this makes Roxy just another
in a set of glorious mid-Seventies records initiated with Overnite Sensation,
but the 'live feel' renders it far more poignant and hard-hitting than,
say, One Size Fits All. And the band really shines on that one,
particularly Frank himself (who churns out some of the greatest guitar
solos o' my whole worthless life), George Duke on keyboards and Bruce Fowler
on trombone. There are also two drummers (Ralph Humphrey and Chester Thompson,
the dude who later played with Genesis on tour), and Ruth Underwood adds
some extra percussion spice on the vibrophone (is that how it's called?)
Recorded live at... at... well, at Roxy and elsewhere, I presume, the album
is supposed to feature the Mothers as a tight, compact band playing music
that's definitely experimental, but never too spaced out not to be enjoyable.
Essentially, it's just Frank's vintage cocktail of jazz, blues, Latin rhythms,
and whatever he intended to throw into the current melting pot. And nothing
on here, except for 'More Trouble Every Day' and maybe, to a certain extent,
'Village Of The Sun', is too accessible or memorable - but that's not the
point of the record. The point of the record is to create a Live Experience
that would at the same time manage to create some real rock'n'roll excitement,
on one hand, and be as complex as possible, on the other.
How is that possible? To answer that question, one must listen to the flabbergastingly
great funky symphony of 'Echidna's Arf (Of You)' and 'Don't You Ever Wash
That Thing?'. You may trust me - I'm not the biggest fan of Frank's instrumental
compositions, but this, man, wow... it's really something. First of all,
the 'symphony' is fast enough and has a great drive to it, so it doesn't
drag or anything - it's a total gas to have the volume turned out and completely
freak out to this wild, untamed music. But it's only the beginning: the
main thing is that this might just as well be the most complex piece of
music I've ever heard in my life. The four minutes of 'Echidna's Arf' manage
to incorporate, like, about a couple dozen different melodies, time
signatures, riffs and original ideas. And the funniest thing is, with all
these incessant changes, the tune never sounds as a mess. Everything flows
in and out so smoothly you'd think these guys were born with a knowledge
of how to switch from 4/4 to 5/7 and, I don't know, 13/15 within a couple
of seconds. The calls-and-answers between the brass, the vibrophone, the
guitar and the keyboards are so immaculate it's almost as if all of this
stuff was played by one person. In a twinkle of an eye, not a single mistake,
not a single missing note; it's positively frightening. 'Don't You Ever
Wash That Thing' might still be just a little bit extended (I could do
without the drum battle, but then again, maybe I couldn't? Wouldn't that
just spoil the whole flu-en-cy?), but essentially it's just more
of the same. And Frank isn't forgotten, either; after all the players have
dutifully showed themselves off (including the vibrophone hero Ruth Underwood,
who is drawn special attention to by Frank's personal appraisal), he steps
in with a solid wah-wah solo before bringing the number down with a bang.
In these circumstances, most of the other songs sound inferior to this
instrumental masterpiece, but most of them are still great. This is where
Frank introduces the sleazy 'Penguin In Bondage', a gritty funk workout
with, well, not quite politically correct lyrics, highlighted by a fast,
grizzly solo (BTW, his preferred instrument here is the wah-wah, and that
makes me glad even further, as I love the wah-wah with an uncanny dearness).
'Village Of The Sun' is the least tongue-in-cheek number on here, a nice
Latino shuffle (is that a permissible combination?) telling of the ecological
problems in Palmdale where they raise turkeys and the fumes from the furnaces
'take the paint off your car and wreck your windshield too'. The melody
is still rather twisted, but at least it's more singalong than, say, 'Cheepnis'
- an engaging and cleverly constructed tune ridiculizing monster movies,
where Frank takes the aspect of the relation between the technical side
of the filming process and the produced effect and builds a funny parody
around it ("...I said: Can y'all see now? The little strings on the
Giant Spider? The Zipper From The Black Lagoon? The vents by the tanks
where the bubbles go up? And the flaps on the side of the moon...")
The funny thing is that 'Cheepnis' is represented as a giant poodle, thus
bringing back the 'poodle bites, etc.' thematics of Overnite Sensation
once again; talk about continuity.
Meanwhile, 'Son Of Orange County' recreates the earlier Mothers' vibe,
with a more relaxed, homely and peaceful feel than the rest of the album,
and 'More Trouble Every Day' recreates the earlier Freak Out! tune
as a slow, threatening blues tune, the best thing about which are the drummers'
jaw-dropping rolls in between the verses and the chorus and Frank's lengthy
stinging solo. It's also fun to see the band illustrating all the activities
that Frank is singing about, especially hear them nearly throttle themselves
at the mention of cops 'chokin' in the heat'.
So why not a 10? One reason - 'Be-Bop Tango (Of The Old Jazzmen's Church)'.
At sixteen minutes, it just sits there and clutters up the record without
too much sense. Okay, so the first few minutes of it are great, as Frank
tells us all about how they are going to play a 'perverted Tango' and how
they're not going to do it too fast so as to get everything right on tape.
There's a terrific moment, too, as Frank points at the ringing cowbell
and cries out - 'The cowbell as a symbol of unbridled passion, ladies and
gentlemen!' That one makes me laugh my pants down. As well as 'jazz is
not dead, it just smells funny' (what a deep thought, by the way). And
Bruce Fowler has a decent trombone solo. What I really can't stand is the
'audience participation' section, where Frank invites some people onstage
and asks them to dance along to George Duke's scat singing ('that's a pedestrian
beat, you don't dance to that beat, you dance to what George sings...').
Maybe that would look cool on video, but on CD it just sounds stupid, and
I even pity the poor volunteers who allowed Frank to make complete asses
out of them. And when the guys depart and get replaced by a professional
stripper (I suppose that's her sticking out on the album cover), it's not
even funny, just vulgar. And all of this takes such a Damn Long Time! Nah.
Thanks. Thanks at least, Frank, for giving us a fine slice of cheerful
honky-tonk blues and more of your unmatched wah-wah soloing at the end
of the track - the only reason that sometimes makes me endure the song
in its entirety.
Well, I'm not a big fan of 'Dummy Up' either; they're not really playing
on that one, just acting funny. Apart from these two, though, I fully understand
fans who swear by this album. And don't miss out Frank's conversations
with the audience - the introductions to 'Penguin In Bondage', 'Cheepnis'
and 'Be-Bop Tango' are almost worth the price of admission alone.
Actually, after the dissolution of this lineup Frank was never able
to find anything better. The 1988 tour band was probably somewhat more
professional (in the 'slick' sense of the word), more large and diverse,
but it could never play stuff like 'Echidna's Arf', because for tunes like
that it's not the professionalism that matters, it's the 'feel-your-brother'
vibe. Is rock'n'roll dead today? Hmm. Could you, today, put together a
band such as Zappa's Roxy lineup and play something like that?
Ah, well, don't get me started.
More trouble every day, as long as you don't mail your ideas
Your worthy comments:
Ben Greenstein <bgreenstein@nctimes.net> (27.04.2000)
Ehh... not as good as you say it is, but still really awesome. "Echidna's Arf" is good music to blast out of your window in a residential zone, and "Penguin In Bondage" really should have been recorded in a studio. Would have sounded even better. But a few songs are boring. So I give it a low eight, which is still a pretty good score!
Year Of Release: 1975
Record rating = 8
Overall rating = 11
More in the vein of 'Sensation', but a little more messy and a little
less funny.
Best song: PO-JAMA PEOPLE
At least this time around Frank was not too keen on writing another
rock opera. You could argue that it's one more mock-concept album, this
time based around the idea of a 'sofa', but the concept is actually limited
to the album cover and just two tracks, so I won't be supporting that idea.
More exactly, this is just another in a series of entertaining surrealistic,
half-parodic albums with a big-band, half-jazzy sound. George Duke seems
to have a somewhat more assured position on the album: he often gets a
chance to 'shine' on some synth solos (the quotation marks are not
used ironically, I just don't find Duke to be a particularly exciting
keyboard player, but he does his job well), and even gets to sing lead
vocals on 'Inca Roads'. But usually, it's Frank who gets all the gold,
as always: some of his guitarwork here shows that he just kept improving
and improving on his instrument. Golly, do you think he really found
time to exercise his guitar playing while pumping out all these endless
records?
Like, you guessed, it's a big step up from Apostrophe': the silly
narrative pervertions are gone, and instead we get to hear some real songs
again. Not that they are all very enjoyable! I said it's more in the vein
of Sensation, but even Sensation can sound like a mainstream
pop album in comparison with this. This is, in fact, my main complaint
about the album: there's a wee bit more instrumental noodling and a wee
bit less captivating melodies than is needed for a perfect record. For
instance, I just can't stand the eight-minute 'Inca Roads' that opens the
album, a free-form improvisation with pseudo-Andian lyrical themes; this
is a treat for Zappa freaks exclusively. I do have respect for George Duke
and his finger-flashing synth leads and it's all very serious and stuff,
but where the dang hell is the emotional resonance. I can't just groove
like this, without a direction, for eight minutes plus. And some of the
other tracks are just silly throwaways, like the one-minute mock-classical
rant 'Evelyn, A Modified Dog': the lyrics are hilarious, but why not set
them to something more interesting than a bunch of classical piano chords?
And 'Andy' strikes me as uninspired, too. Apparently it's structured as
a parody on modern pop music, with disco and funk rhythms interchanging
with each other, but it's not that easy to get if you don't study the lyrics
sheet.
But why should we talk of bad stuff when there's enough tasty treats on
this album to rave upon? Have you heard 'Po-Jama People'? Now I frankly
don't know shit about Zappa, but the song's lyrics strike me as one of
his most vicious, brilliant attacks on the middle class. In brief, he takes
the concept of a 'pyjama' and turns it into a symbol of people's moral
and aesthetic degradation. (This makes me wonder if Frank used to sleep
naked or in his underwear, but I guess that's intimate). The lyrics are
clever fun, and the hard-rockin', bouncy melody totally fits the song's
scary, dark mood ('po-jama people' are deemed to be dangerous, you know).
Even better, midway through Frank lets go with such a mighty guitar solo
that he almost makes all of this stuff convincing. And what about these
marvelous 'hoey hoey hoey'? A definite highlight on the album.
And there are more classy rockers here, too: 'Can't Afford No Shoes' starts
out with a chuggin', smokin' distorted-guitar intro, and though it somewhat
calms down later on, it's still a treat; and 'San Ber'dino', a song that
should be distinguished as having the most 'clearly stated' melodic structure
on the album and is thus somewhat un-Zappa-esque (exclusively from the
point of view of the song's relative simplicity - the melody itself is
pure Zappa, of course), rocks to the point of bleeding, especially during
the closing bluesy "jam". Kinda makes you forget about Frank
the doo-wop lover, doesn't it? He felt as much at home with doo-wop as
with hard rock, the bastard. Likewise, 'Florentine Pogen' is Frank at his
humoristic best - a strange, almost genreless incantation, a bit jazzy,
a bit gospelish, but essentially undescribable. You just need to hear it.
Don't forget, too, that while the 'mock-concept' lines are not very significant,
they're by no means dismissable. 'Sofa No. 2', that closes the album, will
make you choke with laughter if you know German: it culminates in Frank
adopting a deadly serious operatic tone and pronoucing 'Ich bin hier und
du bist mein Sofa' ('I'm here and you're my sofa'). The instrumental version
of the song ('Sofa No. 1') is rather pointless, though; at least, if I
were Frank I'd probably swap the two versions, because it's easier to appreciate
the instrumental after you've heard the German singing.
In all, the album's a little harder to digest than Overnite Sensation,
but if you can't get enough of that one, feel free to proceed here: there's
plenty of fun to be found. Fun plus impressive musicianship certainly equals
"good album"; in fact, to a certain extent One Size Fits All
might be regarded as the last piece of the 1973-75 trilogy, all wrapped
around the concept of "satirical perfectionism", and the whole
trilogy with a few song exceptions can be easily recommended to those who
love their Zappa accessible, funny, musically impressive and serious all
at once. After all, 'one size fits all', doesn't it? The next albums would
already show Frank moving away to more 'gross' material and paying too
much attention to ridiculizing the "tempora" and the "mores"
in favour of true 'artsy' musicianship; this doesn't mean I don't feel
any respect for the ensuing period (on the contrary, I personally enjoy
it somewhat more, as I've never been an intimate fan of Zappa's "serious"
musical style, with a few exceptions), but if you're an 'intelligent' music
fan, chances are you'll rate One Size Fits All far higher than,
say, Zoot Allures or - God forbid! - Sheik Yerbouti. Move
on now.
Can't afford no shoes, but sure can post your ideas
Your worthy comments:
Dan Watkins <dan_watkins@hotmail.com> (09.09.99)
I love it. 'Inca Roads', 'Andy', 'Sofa', 'Florentine Pogan', and 'Can't Afford No Shoes' are all great tunes. No complaints here. I give it a nine.
Ben Greenstein <bgreenstein@nctimes.net> (23.09.99)
I disagree (surprise!). I think that this album catches Frank at his most complex and wierdest. Sure, I prefer songs like "Camarillo Brillo" which have really good, solid melodies, but this album is like a milestone in "freak out" music. I agree about "Inca Roads" - parts of that one completely blow - but "Florentine Pogen" and "Andy" are great! I also love the more poppy ones - "San Ber'dino" has an awesome guitar lick, and "Po-jama People," while the solo goes on for a bit too long, is still really groovy. And how can you dis "Evelyn"? A throwaway, sure, but a funny one. I would probably only give this album an eight, though, because I really hate that first tune.
Joshua Fiero <jfiero1@lsu.edu> (03.01.2000)
Interesting interpretation of "Po-Jama People," but according to Zappa himself, the song is about going on tour with all the professional jazz players who recorded Waka/Jawaka and The Grand Wazoo with him. Ya see, they went to sleep after their concerts, and FZ was used to his band members partying, drinking, screwing--you know, giving him things to sing about. And, as regards the ongoing "Inca Roads" debate--I think it rocks. But hey, I can definitely understand how some folks would find the tune insufferable, so go figure.
Ben Greenstein <bgreenstein@nctimes.net> (01.11.2000)
Another change of opinion. This is the absolute best Zappa album (although that is a rather close contest). "Inca Roads" is fantastic! The whole thing is fantastic!
Year Of Release: 1975
Record rating = 8
Overall rating = 11
Echoes and shades of Roxy everywhere - except for Beefheart spoiling
some fun with his shitty voice.
Best song: MUFFIN MAN
A good chance - not quite, but nearly wasted. Everybody knows
I love Zappa doing blues-rock: he's kinda the ideal blues-rock performer
out of all the possible types, with great soloing skills, a voice just
suited for singing trippy, groovy bloozy stuff, and lyrics that are as
far away from your usual 'woke up in the morning my baby was gone' stuff
as possible. It takes time to get used to his 'variations' on the basic
blues themes, but well, it's just a question of time and good will, as
I always say. This live record could be a fantastic showcase for Frank,
and for the most part, it is - see about that later. But being the weird,
unpredictable guy as he was, Frank just couldn't resist the temptation
to screw it as best he could. So, in order to do that, he invited his old
pal Don Van Vliet, better known around these parts as Captain Beefheart,
to guest on the performances, and a solid part of this album is dominated
by the trusty Cap'n as a result.
Now I must confess that this was my first acquaintance with Captain Beefheart
- way before I have grown to appreciate some of his best efforts, and since
then I have come to realize that this particular period (1974-75) featured
him in a rather... err... pitiful state (see my Unconditionally
Guaranteed review on this site, which is in fact quite apologetic of
the record). But however bad or good his solo work in this period was,
judging by his work here, I can only get the impression of a boozed
out old fart who can sure play a mean harp at times but spends most of
it reciting surrealistic, drugged out and in the long run totally uninspiring
and not funny poetry with a voice that is at best squeaky and at the worst
vomit-inducing. In fact, I don't really see why songs like 'Sam With The
Showing Scalp Flat Top' or 'Man With The Woman Head' should be considered
'art' as opposed to, say, 'John John Let's Hope For Peace' from the Yoko
part of Lennon's Peace In Toronto. It's all the same old shit, if
you axe me, and enjoying it is nothing short of masochism; even Trout
Mask Replica is like Mozart compared to this. I hate these lyrics (did
he ever consider collaborating with Jon Anderson? They used to be better,
though), I hate this voice (I'm just not amused), and really, Frank had
an odd taste in friends. Alice Cooper? Don Van Vliet? Maybe he should have
contented himself with Vaclav Havel...
It's all the more pitiful, as most of the Beefheartless or nearly Beefheartless
tunes on the album are excellent. In fact, even the few showcases of Beefheart
actually 'singing', not 'grunting' his way through the slime in his throat
on garbage like 'Debra Kadabra', are fun. For instance, the comic tune
'Poofter's Froth Wyoming Plans Ahead', announced by Frank as 'some sort
of cowboy song' dedicated to the upcoming two hundredth anniversary of
the USA (and to my birthday, for that matter! hey, did any of you actually
know I was born July 4th 1976?), anyway, this tune is certainly quite groovy.
And quite biting, too - with a hard-hitting anti-commercial message.
And when Beefheart plays harp, he does it with verve indeed - why he didn't
stick to just that is way beyond me. Then again, maybe I'm just such a
limited person.
Anyway, I'm not a huge fan of pseudo-'mellow' stuff like 'Carolina Hard-Core
Ecstasy' (a shuffly ballad along the lines of 'Camarillo Brillo', only
with far less interesting humor AND melody) or 'Cucamonga', though they're
still pretty neat and become pleasant on repeated listens. But I sure do
get my kicks out of all the bluesy stuff they gots to get on here. Like,
'200 Years Old' starts with an eerie spoken Zappa introduction, and then
becomes even more gloomy as Beefheart steps in with his 'She's 200 years
old/So mean she couldn't grow no lips...' (All about Mother America, no
doubt?) And the band playing on this one are excellent, too, especially
Terry Bozzio on drums (though the liner notes say that Chester Thompson
plays drums on '200 Years Old'). If you're not a purist and love your blues
served with an edge, you've come to the right place, I say! Have you ever
heard 'Muffin Man'? That distorted, frightening riff with Frank intoning
in his deepest voice, 'Girl you thought he was a man but he was a muffin?',
plus throwing in some blistering leads? Man, it's catchy as hell, brilliant
as heaven!
I'll even go as far as to say that I do enjoy the eleven-minute
'wankfest' on 'Advance Romance'. The dissonant, intentionally clumsy melody
on that one might be a hard bone to chew, but in the long run it's worth
it: if you ever complained about the unoriginality and formulaicness of
blues rockers, here's one proof for you how far that genre really can go
in some genial hands. I admit it is a bit overlong, but you know, it's
really no big problem for me to tolerate a professional blues jam - not
to mention that it isn't really a blues jam, it's Frank and his band getting
weird within the limits of decency. So yeah, I'm all up and for this record,
and my appreciation for it only grows with time. It is, indeed, like a
minor brother to Roxy & Elsewhere - less diverse and hot,
and with a bit more filler, but basically continuing the same excellent
groove. Now if it were only deprived of Beefheart's ramblings (or, as Frank
himself announces it, 'Captain Beefheart on vocals and soprano sax and
madness'), a nine would not be out of question - as it is, nope. A low
eight, but a good-spirited one.
Debra Kadabra, mail your ideas!
Your worthy comments:
Dan Watkins <dan_watkins@hotmail.com> (29.09.99)
Well, I didn't like this one at all when I first heard it. I just hadn't
had any exposure to Captain Beefheart's vocals other than 'Willie The Pimp'
on Hot Rats. Indeed, Beefheart's vocals do sound bad here... worse
than usual.
In fact, I heard he was having trouble with alcohol at the time, which
I'm sure was probably a mjor contribution to his bad voice around that
era. Anyway, I did grow to like the album. There isn't a song on the album
that don't like. It's a pretty fun album. 'Advance Romance' gets a little
draggy at times, but the vocals are fun. And they stole poor George's watch
like they always do.
Ben Greenstein <bgreenstein@nctimes.net> (27.04.2000)
One more point for me, 'cuz I love "Debra Kadabra." (that was when I still rated the album as a six, so I've upped Ben on that one! - G.S.) Wierd, but with lots of cool melodic bits that jump out rather than bore me. And "Muffin Man" is a really great song. "Carolina Hardcore Ecstacy" certainly is a rewrite of my beloved "Camarillo Brillo," but a good one.
Year Of Release: 1976
Record rating = 8
Overall rating = 11
One of Frank's best parody albums of the Seventies - melodic and
giggly at the same time.
Best song: THE TORTURE NEVER STOPS
Gee, I like this album. It's even more 'normal' than One Size Fits
All, to be sure, but by this time Frank had certainly metamorphosed
into a more 'conventional' songwriter who was more interested in mocking
others than in 'pushing music boundaries forward'. But, Frank-ly
(heh heh) speaking, I don't care, and especially since I consider that
music boundaries have been pushed to their utmost limit somewhere around
1972-73, I'm all up and consenting: let Frank ridiculize everybody and
everything if he does it so well as on this album. The big advantage
here is that it's enjoyable on at least several levels. First of all, you
can just forget the lyrics and the gimmicks and enjoy the music, which
this time around includes several amazing riff-fests, a couple of danceable
tunes, and a short section of a blues-lovers paradise. But if you're more
of a diehard Zappa freak and love the man for his atmosphere and, well,
'curiosities', you'll find plenty as well - turns out that Frank could
work in several directions when needed (as if Overnite Sensation
left a doubt).
To be entirely honest, the three tracks that illustrate Frank's more and
more sophisticated guitar playing do not really thrill me - your basic
blues jams with extremely professional six-string workouts, some faster
('Black Napkins'), some slower with devilishly 'daring' use of feedback
(title track). Except proving Frank's major stature as a blues guitarist,
they do little or nothing, and probably shouldn't. That's no overwhelming
problem, though: they're not incredibly long, and they're energetic
enough not to bore you to sleep, so you won't miss the first frightening
seconds of 'The Torture Never Stops' or the first rumbling riff of 'Wonderful
Wino'.
Now the actual songs are an entirely different matter. No, the melodies
aren't particularly engaging - most of these numbers are built on a similar
brand of hard rock riffing ('Disco Boy' and 'Wind Up Workin' In A Gas Station'
are almost one song in that respect), and, this might seem blasphemous,
they are simplistic - even compared to the more 'mainstreamish',
but still twisted melodies on Sensation. You can actually sing along
to them, you know? But nevertheless, they're all fun - due to the successful
combination of lyrics, humor, weird singing and general drive. 'Wind Up
Workin' In A Gas Station' starts the record on a great note, with the telling
lyrics 'This song might offend you some/If it does it's because you're
dumb' (a phrase that could be successfully used as a motto for all of Zappa's
career) and a retro-ish fast melody, with those wonderful falsetto vocals
by Davey Moire. It's fast, hilarious to the point of bursting, and has
enough changes in tempo to nearly (but not quite) overthrow my idea of
this album as 'simplistic' - what else do you need? 'Ms Pinky' is a song
that sets a similar mood musically, but not lyrically - well, it seems
to be devoted to Frank's relations with an inflatable doll. Personally,
I don't find these lyrics offensive at all; I find them amusing and clever,
and I'm not a pervert and I'm not even an exhibitionist (GO FIGURE!!)
'Find Her Finer' is quite catchy, a sinister little number about the proper
way to treat young ladies; however, 'Wonderful Wino' is a somewhat duller,
less edgy rocker that's also saved by the lyrics (the part where Frank
'lost control of my body functions/On a roller-headed lady's front lawn'
moves me in a particular way, thank God I never experienced that kind of
thing myself! Oh well, I'd bet you anything Frank was kidding, too). Same
goes for 'Disco Boy' that picks up a bit steam, too, but is basically a
rehash of 'Wind Up...' with better lyrics and, hell, a mini-concept of
its own. Where the previous two or three songs work as a funny parody on
hard rock, this one's a knock-off of disco and, more importantly, disco
fans: the matter of 'disco boys' and their obsession with their looks is
given a harsh but, let's face it, completely deserved treatment by Frank.
Along the way, the Disco Boy checks his hair in the toilet, dances with
the Disco Girl, finds out she's leaving with his best friend, and leaves
with the small consolation that he's 'still got hands/To help you do that
jerkin' that'll blot out the Disco Sorrow'. Poor lad.
My favourite song on here, though, has nothing to do with hard rock or
blues rock or ridiculizing disco attitudes. The ten-minute long 'The Torture
Never Stops' is what I'm talking about: an incredible, unbelievably
effective parody on shock rock and gothic horrors. Here, Frank has concocted
a creepy little melody that plods along almost unnoticeably with an ominous
guitar bleep now and then, accompanied by freaky lyrics about 'flies all
green 'n' buzzing' and all the traditional attributes of medieval dungeon
terror (and S&M, of course), such as knives, slime, ooze, spikes, guns,
sinister midgets and giant fire puffers. Add to this his 'I'm The Slime'-ey
goofy, sinister, gruesome intonations, and, of course, the unforgettable
female shrieks and moans all the way (orgasm through torture, eh?), some
of them provided by none other than his current wife in person, and you've
got yourself an amazingly entertaining and bizarre performance. It serves
as a double goal, of course: to both outrage the critics and censors and
ridiculize the whole shock rock business. It rules!
The big question, of course, is: why the hell did Frank feel the need to
present Alice Cooper to the public when he had so effectively mocked his
whole schtick on this album? Oh well. He wasn't producing Alice Cooper
at that moment no more, I suspect. Oh! And if you were wondering, I forgot
to remind you that the album title has nothing to do with zoot suits: it's
actually an 'alternative' way to spell the French expression 'zut alors!'
which is a rough (and, in fact, highly 'literary' - I've never heard a
Frenchman use it) equivalent for 'dammit!'. Also, the cover features ex-Roxy
Music member Eddie Jobson who never played a note on this record. Instead,
it was Captain Beefheart who played some harmonica on a couple of tracks,
but did pretty little else (thank God - we didn't need another Bongo
Fury). And there's also Frank's name spelled in Japanese characters
on the back cover - I don't know why he used hieroglyphs, though, because
foreign names are only written in kanji. And if you try to read this stuff
as Chinese symbols, you'll never realize that this means 'Frank Zappa'.
Again, what we deal with is a barbaric violation of cultural traditions,
a thing quite typical of Fuluanku Zasu (that's how the Chinese characters
will be read!) Hah! Hah I say!
The torture never stops - I'm still asking you to mail your ideas!
Your worthy comments:
Dan Watkins <dan_watkins@hotmail.com> (09.09.99)
Cool. Most die-hard Zappa fans don't like it much, I always did. My only disagreement is that I don't think 'the Torture Never Stops' is that great. The song is okay, but the S&M screams get on my nerves. However, I do think this is the best version of the song (Well, the version on Thing-Fish has a pretty cool middle section that's not on this version). 'Wind Up Working In A Gas Station' is my favorite! I love those corny falsetto vocals! The one's here even beat Studio Tan's 'Let Me Take You To The Beach'. The guitar tracks are cool too. 'Disco Boy' is classic Zappa. Not a bad starting place for the new Zappa fan.
Ben Greenstein <bgreenstein@nctimes.net> (27.04.2000)
Maybe a really low eight, because "Torture" simply takes too long to go nowhere. It's atmospheric, though, and the album has "Disco Boy" on it! Do you understand how great a song "Disco Boy" is? Probably not! Thank God it was almost a hit! "Mrs Pinky" and "Wonderful Wino" are great, too. I love the line about pooping - it makes the song feel very personal.
Philip Maddox <slurmsmckenzie@hotmail.com> (26.06.2000)
At the risk of sounding like an idiot, I hate this record. The album sounds like it's trying to be a "generic" rock record, but it doesn't really work as one. With the exception of 'Wind Up Workin' in a Gas Station', these songs have a negative amount of energy. They all just sort of plod along. 'The Torture Never Stops' is ok, but lasts for WAY too long - it's definitely the best song here, but I'm still not crazy about it. 'Ms. Pinky' sounds ok, but is really repetitive and I usually end up changing the track about halfway through. 'Disco Boy' is ok, but Zappa's voice doesn't work at all on it - in fact, Zappa's voice doesn't fit the feel of this record at all. It sounds like he's talking through the album (like Apostrophe), but, again, without any emotion or energy (unlike Apostrophe, which I still really like). The guitar solos are pretty good technically, but they don't offer enough energy to merit listening to them again. I give this record a VERY low 4. For a "normal" FZ rock record, give me Overnite Sensation any day.