Greetings and salutations Zappa fanatics. This is Tom Brown, pseudo Commie/American, undercover correspondent for the Black Page website, and all around Zappa fan. I'm back on duty to share an extra special treat for Zappa aficionados throughout the world. The name of John Livzey may not immediately ring a bell with most of you, but if you'll pull out your Zappa albums, "Shut Up And Play Your Guitar," "You Are What You Is," in addition to your 12" Valley Girl" single and peruse the liner notes, you'll find that the photographer that is credited for the seminal images adorning the packaging is indeed Mr. Livzey. I'm not sure why, but no one had ever approached John to talk of his experiences with the maestro, until I decided that enough is enough, and managed to convince him to sit down with me and share his unique perspective of his adventures with FZ. Through a series of the ever present quirky cosmic accidents and a mutual acquaintance, I was first introduced to John some ten years ago, and discovered that not only do we share a great many interests in the medium of film, books and music, but that he's a hell of a nice guy to boot. For those of you who are interested in seeing a selection of ultra spiffy unpublished photos of FZ, and/or an array of other visually resplendent images that have been captured by his talented eye and camera (check out the abstracts), please pay a visit to http://www.livzey.com Click on "Editorial," then click on "Music." One more click on the Zappa image, and you're there. The black and white in the center, of Frank in the back of a limo, with a female fan leering through the window, is one of my favorite Livzey photos. It "Freaks me out!" that it was never considered for an album cover. The following conversation was derived from two meetings with John...April 2nd, 2002 and a second on May 15th, 2002. Hope you have as much fun as we did.

TB: When did you become a professional photographer? How long have you been a professional photographer?

JL: God, I don't know. Do you want a date? Is there a date?

TB: No, no. Approximately.

JL: Here's the way I'll answer that. I took pictures as a kid, but nobody ever encouraged me, because in my surroundings no one had the tools to notice that a kid could be visually oriented. People in Burbank at that time were not like that, so they wouldn't have known what to do; they all kind of shrugged their shoulders. Why'd you take that picture over there? I don't know. I get that even still.

TB: It didn't seem important.

JL: These were working class people. Pictures were of Grandma in front of the house at Thanksgiving. And I took goofy pictures too. My father used to bitch about it. He'd say "Pictures of the fireplug out in front? Pictures of blades of grass?" He'd complain. It'd cost something like $1.50 at Sav-On, which was a few bucks in 1955. It was expensive, and he'd try and discourage it. Anyway, I got out of college in 71' and I went right into business with a guy by the name of Norm Ellis and I considered myself a photographer then, although in retrospect, I wasn't. I had a lot to learn. In fact, I still have a lot to learn, but I had more to learn then.

TB: But they were paying you.

JL: Yeah. So I went into business in 72', and then another guy, John Vince, joined the two of us.

TB: What kind of pictures were you taking then?

JL: It was all product, we had industrial accounts. One of our clients was called Canoga Controls.

TB: And you would take pictures of what exactly?

JL: Canoga Controls made that crap, that when you'd pull up at a light, you'd break a circuit that's underneath the asphalt. And you'd break that circuit and it counts your car or changes the light or whatever kind of information they're trying to figure out. So I'd take pictures of the circuit boxes; it was pretty exciting stuff. (John is being facetious) And John Vince had joined us, and we broke up about a year and a half later, and I wound up in Hollywood in 1977. So that's when I started actually earnestly attempting to do photography, when I moved to Hollywood, because it was a "photo studio", quote, unquote, that I rented. The place is just off Sunset Blvd, on Las Palmas Avenue. And I had a good time there, for 20 years.

TB: You did a number of album covers before hooking up with Frank, didn't you?

JL: Not that many; a few. I did Bonnie Raitt, Emmy Lou Harris and a country and western woman I've lost track of. She was blind and out of Nashville and I remember Warner Brothers dropped her.

TB: I'm not a big country and western fan outside of Patsy Cline, but I can't recall a blind female singer.

JL: She was good; her name is Terri Gibbs. (John notices an alluring photograph of Lisa Popeil that he had taken, sitting atop my bookcase, and gets up to retrieve it) Ah, this was backstage, in Santa Monica. She was posing for me. She was a weird chick, I think. I'll never forget her coming to the studio. She came with Odd Job, except he was black, not Japanese. He was short and barrel -shaped. This guy looked like he could break you in half. You could probably run away from him, but if he got his hands on you, you were fucked.

TB: And he was her bodyguard?

JL: Yeah. He came with her and was driving some sort of a town car.

TB: Why was she over there?

JL: To look at pictures, to look at these pictures. It was the only time I shot her, it had to be these. I think she might have even gotten a print or two. But she was very cold; she didn't even try to interact with me. She just wanted to see the damn pictures.

TB: You know Frank never used any of those photos to decorate any of his album covers. I thought he would've done that.

JL: No, I guess he didn't

TB: It's too bad. In some of these photos she looks incredibly nuts, but she has a lovely carcass.

JL: Yes, she has the deer in the headlights look. You'd probably want to turn her around. No problem.

TB: What was your first entry into show biz?

JL: Well, I'm not in show business.

TB: The fans wanna read about stars.

JL: I deny it. (there are laughs, and we somehow segway into a discussion regarding the old Disney animators before returning to the subject at hand)

TB: So your first celebrity job was with Chuck Jones? (laughs)

JL: No, I never photographed Chuck Jones, you prevaricator. Damn it, I wish I had. I did photograph a famous animator, though. It was the guy who did the TV Peanuts. He had a big mustache. Mendelssohn? (John is actually referring to Bill Melendez, which I discover after looking it up, hours later, that he is indeed a revered animator). He was a nice guy. He might have been of Spanish origin too, and he was pretty full of himself, but a very charming guy. When I mention him to animators they say, "You photographed him!?" and they get all excited, so he's definitely revered.

TB: So you were ensconced in the world of the celebrity.

JL: Every night. Betty White. Fucked Betty White many, many times. She was a little younger then. (I'm holding my sides).

TB: I hope so. How did that photo of Steve Vai in his gay caballero outfit that's posted on your site come about?

JL: That was taken at my studio. He wanted some pictures taken, and that's what we did.

TB: What was your knowledge of Frank at the time you first discovered you would be taking his picture? Was "Freak Out" in your album collection?

JL: No. I had none of his albums in my collection. I wasn't musically hip to him at all. I just knew him as a character.

TB: So you were aware of his imagery, but not his music?

JL: Right. My image of Frank Zappa was that he was tall and lean, and looked mean. I had not heard his music, I knew that he had a group called The Mothers of Invention, and he looked like an unsavory sort. There was something about his image that was a little...

TB: Dangerous.

JL: Dangerous or frightening. Those are not quite the right words, but if I can think of the right word we'll come back to it. But that was my impression of Frank. I didn't have much to go on, and as usual, it was completely unfounded. Like most stereotypes or most "images" that we have of people, places or things, it's almost always total bullshit when you get up close. (John pulls out several sheets of photos of FZ ) But see, he cultivated that look. (Points to one of the photos) He does look like he's going to kill you with an axe.

TB: It is a little scary. You definitely caught his scariness.

JL: Then again, I think I managed to also catch a vulnerable quality sometimes. The one on the inside of "You Are What You Is" where he's standing up against the wall with his arms crossed? He's definitely exhibiting a warmth there that I don't think you'd ever seen up to then. He didn't usually exude warmth. You know what picture I mean? Where he's got the multi-colored outfit on and the walls are all different colors because Gail was trying to decide which color to paint the walls, yellow, purple or pink? That's why if you look in the background there are different swabs of color. He does not have his Frank Zappa persona in that picture. He's definitely at home, married, kids, pretty happy. But most of the time you got this (Points to previous scary photo ).

TB: Of course. Now how did you hook up with FZ?

JL: I got this job from an art director friend, Dave Schroer, who had a client who manufactured the Acoustic amps. And the idea was to get a shot of Frank with the amp because he was endorsing it. So we went to his house up in the Hollywood hills. He had a cool house, very cozy. And he had just finished putting the recording studio in. It was brand new; it smelled brand new. And off to the side he had an echo chamber. It was a separate room, all white with rounded corners. And he had a beautiful Steinway piano with a whole extra octave of black keys. On "Shut Up and Play Your Guitar", I don't know if you can see it in those pictures, but I have the pictures right here. (John amazingly pulls the photos out of an envelope, but alas, the piano in its entirety cannot be seen). Anyway, I thought we'll have Frank standing behind this amp, and I'll get down low and shoot up into the ceiling. Thomas Nordegg was there; I think there were a bunch of people around. Frank came in the room finally and he was multi-colored, wearing turquoise, with a peach t-shirt, a chartreuse jacket and he had on baggy trousers and tennis shoes that were three or four different colors. He was pretty wildly dressed and his hair was all tousled.

TB: This was your first time ever meeting him?

JL: Yeah. And to be honest I thought Frank would be this mean guy. He just looked mean, so I figured he'd BE mean. But he wasn't that way at all. He had a very firm, manly kind of handshake. He was good at that. Good at making a connection. I told him briefly what we were going to do and he said "Yeah, yeah. Okay" and he left for a few minutes before coming back in. I was nervous about shooting him, since I wasn't used to shooting well-known people, and he made me nervous anyway. I remember saying to all the gathered crew there "When he comes out and we start shooting, I'm not a prima donna about this and if anybody wants to talk or interject, or suggest, I have no problem with that." In other words, help me out! Of course, I learned over time that this is what ALWAYS happens, but then I was new and so it was a shock... he came in the room and I was crouched down behind the camera and everybody just melded into the shadows... nobody said anything. And that's always how it works when you're shooting the Big Enchilada. Everybody's scared since they work for them. Maybe not literally scared of them (in the corporate sense) with Frank, but it was a different form of that same scene.

TB: But he obviously hadn't invited their suggestions.

JL: No, but that's always how it is. When the big shot walks in, all the people that work for them just get into the submissive role. It's like men meeting beautiful women. Otherwise intelligent, educated, erudite males meeting unbelievably "please come fuck me immediately" kind of women and then immediately turning into blithering idiots. It's the same thing.

TB: I'm too highly evolved. That doesn't happen to me.

JL: Yeah. Me too. So Frank comes out and I shot a Polaroid and then its two minutes that it has to cook, and those two minutes can be excruciating when everybody has melded into the shadows, and it's just you and Frank. And I don't know Frank and he doesn't know me, and he's not particularly talkative.

TB: It's a long two minutes.

JL: But I think he liked the Polaroid all right; I don't think there was a problem. The idea was to try to make it look like he was on stage, and I think he said something like "Well, no one's really going to believe that," and I said "You're right. They're not really going to believe it, but for being in here I think it sort of conveys the idea." There were a couple of little lights high above him. Party jells over them would have made it more realistic you know, but it sort of worked. And he said "Okay, do it." So I get down behind the camera and he's got the guitar on and he's glaring at me with that Zappa look, and I said "Why don't you play us a tune?" and he says, in a very slow deadpan "I don't play tunes." I'll never forget that. Dead silence. And everybody in the shadows went FURTHER into the shadows. They became the shadows. But somehow I got through the shoot, I don't know how.

TB: That's a funny story. But it was okay though, it wasn't like he was totally repulsed or anything?

JL: No. But here's what happened. We did the shoot and I shot a few rolls, and it was "Thank you very much," and everybody came back out of the shadows, and handshakes all around, a lot of frivolity and everybody's happy. So Frank says "You got any black and white film?" and I said "Yeah," and he said "Why don't you shoot a couple of rolls of me?" And I think I hesitated. I'm not sure what I said or what I did, but I remember it being a little awkward, and he said "No, listen, if I like them, I'll buy them from you. I'm not trying to take advantage of you." I'm not sure how he actually said it, but he assured me that he wasn't trying to rip me off. I said "Yeah, okay," so everybody left. All the shadow people were pretty much gone except my assistant, who was a guy I didn't know. His name was Chris, and I don't think I had ever worked with him before. So I took these pictures of Frank at home, and that was the day I met him. (John checks the dates written on the envelope) March 13, 1981. We went outside and these are the pictures I took immediately after that shoot (John pulls sheets of proofs out of the envelope). We were outside and I was taking a reading with my meter and I had Chris ready to pop the strobe and I went up to Frank and said "Sorry about that 'tunes' crack," and he said "Aw, that's okay." I apologized for being a jackass. After that it was okay and I got along with him pretty well. So I sent the pictures to him a couple of days later and a couple of days after that the phone rang and I picked it up, and he said "Livzey?" and I said "Yeah," and he says "Zappa." I said "Hey Frank, how are you doing?" I remember I was really surprised. It wasn't Frank's people calling, it was Frank on the phone, and basically what he said was he liked the pictures. And one of the pictures, (John checks one of the proof sheets) from proof sheet number 999, frame number 18, is now being sold on ebay, illegally I might add, by some shumck. So Frank ordered several 16" by 20" prints. He ordered full frame pictures of about ten different images. A bunch of pictures and he loved them all. (John points to the photo being illegally hawked on ebay) He used this inside "Tinsel Town Rebelli on" or...?

TB: This was used on the record sleeves of the "Shut Up and Play Your Guitar." LP box.

JL: Damn, I didn't show the black keys on the damn piano. But he liked these pictures. (John laughs) It was funny. I'll always remember that call, "Livzey? Zappa." "Yes, Zappa, what the fuck do you want? I'm busy." (laughs ensue)

TB: He wanted to give you money.

JL: Yeah, he was okay, Frank. He was a good guy. A very smart, bright guy not reactionary, not biased or prejudicial. Ignored by mainstream America, of course.

TB: Virtually invisible now, thanks to Gail.

JL: I never really had any run-ins with her. (points to a picture of Dweezil) This picture of Dweezil, I don't know if it's this picture exactly, but it's from that day. From the day I shot the kids, and I don't think she liked those pictures much. (Gail hired me to shoot just the kids once, in my studio, while he was in Europe, touring) I sold that to 'Guitar World;' they put it on the contents page. For some reason I didn't run it by the Zappa's. I guess I just forgot, and she was pissed. I heard this from someone at the house, probably Susan Rubio, and I phoned her up and just apologized. I just called her up and said "Hey, sorry, I guess I was being cocky. They asked for a picture of Dweezil and I said 'Yeah, I have a picture of Dweezil.' " I told Gail that I just gave it to them, and I was sorry. It took the wind right out of her sails; she didn't seem to be interested in taking it any further than that.

TB: So you wound up working for Frank for about two years?

JL: Yeah, a couple of years probably. More or less.

TB: And you went to New York with him twice?

JL: No, once, and I had to talk him into it, too. He didn't want to spend the money.

TB: You shot the Halloween show at the Palladium?

JL: (John checks the dates on yet another envelope) I'm so organized, I make myself sick. The New York dates were October 27th, 30th and 31st of 1981. One of the very first MTV live broadcasts, those two Halloween shows

TB: So you were sprawled out everywhere? All over the stage, in the wings? Oh, here's the great Coneheads photo.

JL: That's a good one.

TB: How come you don't have that posted on your site?

JL: I probably will at some point. There's only room there for nine or twelve.

TB: And how often do you change them?

JL: Not very often, it's a lot of work. As a matter of fact those pictures have been up there close to a year now, and we haven't shown any inclination to change them yet. In fact, the web site is not even finished. Some of the pictures won't click to full screen. For instance, none of the Frank pictures can be blown up to full screen, but they will be at some point, at which time people will probably steal from me like crazy.

TB: Exactly. But how many Zappa fans would even know that your site exists.

JL: Well, I'm not that well known. You know when Frank died, for instance, nobody contacted me for anything concerning pictures, recollections, nothing. So I'm not that known. There've been other times, too, when something involving Frank has happened and nobody got in touch.

TB: Well, it's not like you're a household name or anything, but you would think that somebody would say, "Hey. John Livzey is credited with these photos. Let's look him up."

JL: Yeah, a little research. What do researchers do? Researchers look at album covers and see my credit or talk to people to find out who took these pictures, or who wrote that article? Oh, that's so and so. Researchers are supposed to find people like me and no one has ever contacted me, which has always amazed me. You would think that someone would've dug me up.

TB: Unbelievable. It's mind-boggling

JL: Here's a Zappa story. Thomas Nordegg used to work for Frank. He was a video guy, among a bunch of other talents. He's a real Guy Friday. He had one of the first portable phones. He came to the studio one night with one and it was almost like one of those army phones, where you crank it up and ask for the napalm strike. It was almost that size, but it was still a phone that you could pick up and just make a call. He called Frank and we were gobstruck - our mouths dropped open. This would probably be around 1982. And around that same time Thomas, and another German friend of his, who's name I've forgotten now, not a music guy, had this chair that they had designed. It was made out of aluminum, I think. If was kind of a funky thing, and they were always after me to shoot pictures of it, and finally they got Dale Bozzio to pose with it. So she came over in these tight little jeans and this perfect little body, not my kind of body, mind you, looking like a Barbie doll with her blonde hair, and sitting there on the edge of the chair. 'She was okay. I didn't hate her or anything, but she was consumed by herself, like Madonna, but in a nice way. She was nice enough to deal with.'

TB: All attractive people have that element about them, as you know.

JL: Yeah, but she was definitely neurotic. She spent a lot time on the phone. I can't remember too many details about it now, it was so long ago.

TB: I contend all women are neurotic.

JL: Oh yeah, well, but her... overtly so. And a lot of men are, too. Neurosis is pretty rampant. (Woody Allen's appearance on the Oscar telecast is then discussed, until through some mysterious word association the name of Janet the Planet comes up).

JL: Janet the Planet. Do you think she's still married to Denny?

TB: I don't know. You know I was in a band with Denny, but we lost track of each other years ago.

JL: Janet was a nice woman. And you know what? She was smart; she was an intelligent person. She wasn't just some dumb girl. But there weren't that many women around Zappa. It wasn't like hanging out with Duran Duran. When I went back to New York with the group, I thought, My God, what's it going to be like? I'm going to come out the door and there's going to be 150 women out there. Frank's gone; Tommy Mars got snatched... they're down to me now, they're down to the photographer, and he'll do. ' At least he shoots pictures of Frank.' That's how it works, of course. But it wasn't like that. You'd look out the door and it'd be all guys and scraggy girls. There were NOT any babes.

TB: Maybe that's why Frank chose to fly his women in to keep him company on the tours. You never saw any of that?

JL: No, but I know about it. Are there any web sites that talk openly about that?

TB: Not that I'm aware of, but it can't be a secret.

JL: (John looks through his envelopes) Frank at home, April 7, 1981; that's when we had the all-night session. That was probably the best session I had with him. The pictures that came from that were "Shut Up and Play Your Guitar," the cover, and well, just one picture came out of it really, but from my point of view it was just a good session, it was fun. We were there all night long. (John displays photos of FZ wearing a jacket covered with zircon- encrusted slogan buttons) I remember him telling me this story about this jacket he had with all these buttons on it. All kinds of crap. It was really covered with stuff, and he said some fan threw it up to him on the stage somewhere. And the fans driver's license was in there, his wallet was in there. So Frank had the guys name and address, and I said "Well, did you give the wallet back to him?" Frank said "No," (laughs).

TB: He kept his wallet?

JL: Yeah. I was surprised by his answer, but he might have been pulling my leg.

TB: Have any of the pictures in the jacket been published anywhere?

JL: Not that I can remember.

TB: Isn't one posted on your site?

JL: Ummm, maybe. (after checking, we discover the jacket photo is not posted)

TB: So the all-night session just involved the two of you?

JL: Yeah, it was just me and him, and it was great fun. I didn't shoot that many pictures of him, you know. I didn't have unlimited access to him. I was only at the house occasionally. I was there a handful of times. I wasn't hanging out. It wasn't like Hef's place.

TB: I don't know. It seems like you have quite a few.

JL: A fair amount. One time I was at the house and I walked into the kitchen, and he was getting a haircut, sitting in a chair and he had the barber thing on. I think it was a girl cutting his hair, and I started to shoot a picture and he said "No." He wouldn't let me. I should have taken it anyway. It would have been a good picture.

TB: Talk about the great photo you took for the "You Are What You Is" cover. Was that the last thing you did for him?

JL: WAY too many chronological questions. I don't know. I could tell you, although I don't have those pictures with me. There are black and white pictures from that night, because the guy who was working for me, Larry, he took some black and white pictures. He took one of Frank from the side at the exact moment that I shot the profile photo. We figured out by looking at it that it's virtually at the same moment. Within a split second or so.

TB: I remember seeing those. He had that same quirky expression.

JL: That was kind of a impromptu thing. I forget why I was there, but he had a couple of his transcribers there. One guy was a horn player and I've been in touch with him on the internet a little bit lately. His name is David Ocker, and another guy who I think played an instrument, too. He was a little, thin guy as I recall. Frank sat down at the piano and he had that hat on, and I took some pictures and we got the "You Are What You Is" photo. I remember I was excited about it and I took it up there and showed it to him. We got the light box out and we were sitting in the middle of the floor on the carpet in the recording studio that he had, where he was most of the time. At least when I saw him, that's where he usually was. We were looking at it and he said "Well, let me see what Gail thinks," and I thought, 'Fuck Gail.' (laughs ensue) 'All right, all right go ahead', and he goes up in the house for twenty minutes and comes back and said "Yeah, yeah, okay. We'll do something with this." First the album cover was designed by my friend John Vince. John came up with that music staff with "You Are What You Is" written on it. Then the picture was sent up to San Francisco to this designer who was going to make the poster, and get the separations made. He was real good at getting a picture, or a piece of artwork, to the printing stage, and getting it there accurately. He was very good at that. And from there the picture got lost. I don't know what happened to the it. They said it was lost. I always thought somebody in the Zappa organization just snagged it. Because the people that worked at that place on Sunset Blvd. for that little bald-headed guy...what was his name, his manager? He was unpredictable, that guy. Always was nice to me, I have to say. But I heard stories that he was difficult.

TB: Bennett Glotzer?

JL: That's him, And he had a wacky girlfriend, who wanted pictures of herself with which to do something in the business, god knows what, acting probably. I got involved with him, shooting her. We went to Musso & Frank's one time to talk about doing pictures of her. One of those Beverly Hills types, a little princess. We had dinner and she did ALL the talking. She talked non-stop and very fast. She went into the bathroom a few times while we there, I recall. Lisa Kudrow could do a great characterization of this woman. I can just see her doing this woman; it would be wonderful. But any one of those people that worked for Glotzer could have stolen the picture. I did, in fact, shoot this woman and NEVER got paid - what a surprise.

TB: Someone stole your original negative?

JL: It was a Kodachrome transparency, positive image, 35mm, and it just disappeared. And in those days I wasn't smart enough to have made a duplicate. Now, if I had a picture like that of somebody, that I instantly knew was good, it would be replicated in some fashion immediately. Frank was kind of blasé about it, and I made it known to him once or twice that I wasn't too happy about it, but I didn't press the issue. What could I do? I could sue him for $1,500.00, which is the general amount of money for lost pictures, and he'd probably have given it to me, but then I'd never have heard from him again, so what would have been the point?

TB: Well, I don't know what to do. (We then become distracted by my copy of David Hamilton's book, "The Age Of Innocence" resting atop of my VCR. A short break ensues.) Okay, we're back. Tell us about the "Valley Girl" photo. Was that taken before it became an unexpected hit? There wasn't a plan to release that as a single before the album was released, was there?

JL: No. I think I was photographing Frank for a magazine article one night, for an piece Dorothy Sirus was writing, and Moon just came in the room, and she had her little purse in her hand. She was twelve then, or thirteen, and she said "bye." And Frank said "Where are you going," and she said "I'm going to the mall." I remember that. She was going to the mall. I think I called her over, and she agreed, and I said "Come on, cheek to cheek," and they got together. You can see the little pink wallet in her hand, and she had her arm around him, and I took just a few frames. So after the fact they said "Hey, this will make a good cover for this single."

TB: It was more or less an accident then.

JL: Yeah. I just took a few frames. Nowhere near a whole roll.

TB: The last time you photographed him was...?

JL: Right before his death in 1992 or 1993.

TB: But he had grown the beard, right?

JL: Yeah, it was for EQ Magazine. They hired me to shoot a picture of his sound guy at the time, his engineer, Spence Chrisilu. So the magazine sent me up to get a picture, and I knew he had cancer. I forget how I had found out, someone had told me, and Gail said "Frank has good days and he has bad days, and if it's a good day, you'll get to shoot him, too." We shot the picture in his recording studio and I shot from behind the board at the upper right hand corner of the board, so we were looking out across the board at an angle. Spence is sitting there very prominently, in his chair with his feet up, obviously posing, not like he's working, and Frank was in his customary chair, up against the wall in the back where he always sat, and I had him in the shot, but he was somewhat out -of -focus. I told Frank I would keep him soft, and he had a long, gray beard, looking a bit like Fidel Castro, and a lot of gray hair that I had not seen. It was salt and pepper the last time I had seen him, and when he walked in, because he was having a good day and he showed up, he gave me his usual really firm handshake, although he was stooped and his voice was hoarse, and he said "Hey Livzey, how ya doin'?" He had these big circles around his eyes, he looked very sick; it was shocking. So he went over and sat down in his chair and I went behind the board to adjust a light, and he says "Well, Mr. Livzey, YOU'RE looking pretty good these days." Of course, the obvious answer, and it would have been fine if I'd said it because he had fed me the straight line, was "Thanks, but you don't look so hot." But I didn't have the chutzpah to say it; I hadn't seen him in a long time. I might have said it ten years earlier, but he fed me the straight line. He still had his (considerable) sense of humor.

TB: (I am moaning involuntarily)

JL: But we had a good session and then afterward we chatted for a while and he told us about finding the cancer in his prostrate. He'd had trouble peeing and he'd had been to a few doctors, and finally he went to this female doctor in Beverly Hills and she found it. And she told him "Frank, I'm sorry, but it's gone too far." When prostrate cancer gets to a certain point it's difficult to treat. Up to a point it's quite easy to treat apparently, but when it's not detected it will arrive at the stage where it's going to kill you.

TB: Aw, goddamn. He was fucking 52!

JL: Yeah, it's ridiculous. I wish I could have known him better; we weren't pals or anything.

TB: I don't think he ever considered anybody his pal. I heard him say in several interviews, when they'd ask him about his friends, he'd say "I don't have any friends."

JL: It's too bad, because he would have been a fun guy to hang out with. Frank was definitely inventive, I think. He definitely sang his own tune. (although, of course, he doesn't sing tunes)

TB: He was a smart and savvy marketing kind of guy. Right from the get -go, with his imagery.

JL: He was just smart in general.

TB: The one thing that always struck me was, that as smart as Frank was, he still seemed to have hope for the human race. Whereas, as you know, I feel we are doomed to hellfire for all eternity.

JL: I can't say for sure if he was optimistic. I didn't enjoy enough conversations with him to actually come to that opinion. He certainly didn't see things in bitter terms, he just saw it as fact; he saw things for what they were. But I don't know if he was optimistic or not. I'd say that probably, if I had to infer, I would infer that he was.

TB: Or let's say more optimistic that I am.

JL: Or me, for that matter.

TB: Well, there you go. Isn't that interesting?

JL: That settles that.

TB: Here's a test. What's your favorite Zappa album?

JL: I like the "You Are What You Is" album. I'm somewhat biased because I worked on it, I guess.

TB: That's a good one. What's your favorite song? Give me an example. One of your favorites.

JL: I like "Jewish Princess" a lot. 'She's got a garlic aroma that could level Tacoma...' He was a funny guy. He was pretty playful in his music, much more playful than he was in person.

TB: But you enjoyed all the times that you worked with Frank? There was never a time you were thinking 'Ah man, I would fucking rather be anywhere

JL: No. Absolutely not, never felt that way. I always enjoyed being around him, always found him amusing, and mostly I found him to be interesting and bright, full of ideas and thoughts. I liked him, he was a nice man, and Gail was nice to me most of the time too, by the way. She was pleasant enough, in a cool sort of way. Frank was much friendlier, though. They were kind of a good cop, bad cop couple.

TB: Good cop, bad cop couple. Jesus Christ.

JL: But Frank was a good guy. I have no complaints about him. Of all the music-oriented people I photographed over the years, he was absolutely the most engaging, the most entertaining. My one disappointment is that he never agreed to take me on one of the European tours. THAT would have yielded many, many great images, but...

My heartfelt thanks and gratitude go out to John Livzey for taking the time to sit down with me and share his experiences and working relationship with our favorite maestro of all time. His generosity and patience has been beyond reproach, earning him a gigantic round of applause in addition to an interminable amount of free lunches. Don't forget to check out the impeccably rendered photos that are on display on his web site. http://www.livzey.com One more time for the world! All hail John Livzey!