Archive for the ‘ Art ’ Category

White Noise “An Electric Storm”

One of the strangest releases of 1969 was this collaboration between David Vorhaus, an American orchestral double-bass player and composer with a background in avant-garde classical music, and Delia Derbyshire and Brian Hodgson, a pair of sound-effects engineers from the BBC’s Radiophonic workshop, providers of themes and incidental sounds for such shows as Out Into Space and Doctor Who. What drew these unlikely bedfellows together was a shared desire to create experimental electronic art music, at a time when Bob Moog’s early experiments in the US were still barely getting off the ground and available electronic sound generators were limited to military surplus oscillators and simple home-built circuits. The process involved endlessly overlaid electronic tones, percussion, vocal tracks and found sounds, assembled into recognisable pieces via hundreds of tape edits on a bank of six two-track Revoxes.

So what has all this to do with rock’n’roll? Well, the demos produced by Vorhaus and Co. stirred unexpected interest from Chris Blackwell, the innovative proprietor of Island, the burgeoning UK psychedelic/progressive music independent. As a result of its release on that respected imprint, the ensuing album, which took a year to assemble, was taken up by the most hardcore of those admirers of trippy sounds who’d already got past early Pink Floyd, Zappa, the Nice and other leftfield pioneers from the world of rock and who were prepared to tolerate the lack of rock instrumentation and flowing hair in the pursuit of true psychedelic weirdness.

A friend played me this album soon after its release, and I promptly declared it unlistenable. (Mind you, I’d also just declared Lennon’s “Revolution 9” and Zappa’s Freak Out unlistenable, so that’s where I was at the time.) Forty years later my liberalised ears find these recordings irresistible. I know it’s a cliché, but this record truly is unlike anything else; probably the nearest thing to it is The United States Of America’s eponymous opus from the previous year, which similarly marries electronics, avant-garde composition and general strangeness but lacks the peculiarly British whimsy, emotional gamut and outrageous sonic variety of An Electric Storm.

Of the seven tracks, only the first five manage to approach conventional song structures. Four of these are quirky love songs involving various permutations of synthesised accompaniments with Ute Lemper-like vocals, the highlight being the simulated group orgasm voiced by a group of male and female vocalists on “My Game Of Loving”. By contrast “Here Come The Fleas” is a charming comic interlude reminiscent of the Floyd’s “Several Species of Small Furry Animals”, festooned with electronic bleeps, clicks and boings. Thereafter, any resemblance between the remaining tracks and music as conventionally understood in terms of harmonic structures is purely accidental. The lengthy, maudlin but beautifully-constructed “The Visitation” chronicles in cinematic fashion the revisiting of “the girl with roses in her eyes” by her deceased biker lover, while the closing “Black Mass: An Electric Storm In Hell” starts with a cod-Black Magic chant which segues into a full-blown, percussion-driven electronic rendering of a hurricane; its seven minutes were allegedly constructed in one evening when Island became impatient for the album’s completion.

If all this sounds difficult, that’s because it undoubtedly is. It’s also compulsive, fascinating and occasionally mind-blowing, and successive CD reissues in 1994 and 2007 indicate that there’s still a market of brave souls out there willing to give it a go. Are you brave enough?

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“Your Hidden Dreams”

:D CD Reissue | 2007 | Universal | buy here ]
:) Original Vinyl | 1969 | Island | search ebay ]

The Shaggs “Philosophy of the World”

Three teenage sisters from New Hampshire, Dot, Betty, and Helen Wiggin, were pushed by their father to form a band and in 1969 they recorded the ultimate outsider album, Philosophy of the World. Both Frank Zappa and Kurt Cobain have cited it as a fave.

Immediately it sounds unlistenable, but soon it’s hard to stop – like rubbernecking at a car wreck. The Shaggs’ approach comes from way beyond, seemingly informed by nothing. Their music is profoundly unique, sincere, and captivating.

The “problem” with the music is the drums are plainly out of sync with the guitar and vocal.  But you can’t blame the drummer, Helen, whose oft-recycled, go-to drum fill hits the spot every time.  Dot Wiggin’s guitar and lead vocal melodies have a natural lean to complex and disorganized time signatures; I’d bet even the best free jazz drummers couldn’t keep up.  Ultimately what emerges in my mind is a picture of sibling rivalry: Dot wants Helen to follow her rambling leads, and Helen just wants her sisters to come back to the planet and adhere to some semblance of a 4/4 beat.

The songwriting is strange, but at times poignant, as in “Why Do I Feel” (listen as Betty the rhythm guitarist and Helen the drummer finally sneak in a few bars of beat-matched tempo during the intro) and “Who Are Parents?” a heartbreaking, beautiful mess of a song.  “My Pal Foot Foot” is a bizarre piece, presumably about the family dog. “I’m So Happy When You’re Near” comes to a lyrical crescendo when they loudly proclaim “sometimes I think we are completely insane!”

Philosophy of the World is raw, abrasive, and weird, but absolutely must-hear. Especially recommended in small doses.

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“Who Are Parents”

:D CD Reissue | 1999 | RCA | buy at amzn ]
:) Original Vinyl | 1969 | Third World | search ebay ]

Television “Marquee Moon”

Marquee Moon

From the start it was difficult to understand how Television came to be identified with the punk movement. OK, so Marquee Moon appeared in 1977, but so did Dire Straits’s debut, and nobody ever put them in the punk bracket (though Elvis Costello’s also did, and he was lumped in with the punks initially. Ho, hum.). Richard Hell was their first bassist, but he was asked to leave pretty quickly when he proved antipathetic to their carefully constructed tunes and well-rehearsed playing. And while they played CBGB’s, that was in 1974, before punk was identified as a new and separate musical current. And what red-blooded punk singer would take as his stage name that of a nineteenth-century French Symbolist poet?

Television has been described by other reviewers as a minimalist rock band, eliciting comparisons with everyone from the Velvet Underground to Philip Glass. Televison’s clean, sinuous twin-guitar interplay and complex musical arrangements have no real roots in the Underground’s fuzzy two-chord oeuvre. Oddly, the nearest point of reference may be Neil Young with Crazy Horse; just listen to the title track from this album, then play Young’s “Down By The River”. Agree?

The sound throughout the album is pretty homogeneous, with chiming, crystalline Fender guitars and Tom Verlaine’s high, nasal New York voice constantly to the fore, but the songs vary greatly in tempo, key, and arrangement. There are guitar solos, but these are cleanly choreographed, lean and spare, without a note wasted. The lyrics are often opaque, frequently Dylanesque. The heavily solarized portrait of the band on the front cover, by art photographer Robert Mapplethorpe, breathes intruigue. This is genuine art-rock we’re talking about here.

Unfortunately there’s not really room on this webpage for the magnificent ten-minute title track, but it holds the listener’s attention right from the deliberately ambiguous timing of the intro to the unexpected recapitulation in the coda. Of the two MP3s below, “Venus” floats along on a glorious arpeggio – and has a wonderful surrealist lyrical refrain about falling right into the arms of Venus de Milo! – whilst “Friction” comes closest to that Crazy Horse groove, with heavily-vibratoed modal lead guitar, staccato block chords and a funky bassline.

While researching this album I was surprised to find that on original release it did almost zip in the band’s home country, though it was very popular in Europe and especially here in the UK. Its high reputation in Britain has persisted; in 2003 the influential New Musical Express declared Marquee Moon to be the fourth best album of all time. (Certainly it’s in this reviewer’s top twenty.) Perhaps this Rising Storm post will introduce it to a newly appreciative audience in the States.

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“Friction”

:) Original Vinyl | 1977 | Elektra | ebay ]
:D CD Reissue | 2003 | Elektra | amazon ]
8-) Spotify link | listen ]

uReview: Captain Beefheart “Trout Mask Replica”

Trout Mask Replica

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“Veteran’s Day Poppy”

:D CD Reissue | 1990 | Reprise | at amazon ]
:) Original Vinyl | 1969 | Straight | at ebay ]
:) Vinyl Reissue | 2009 | Warner | at ebay ]

Chicago Transit Authority (self-titled)

Opinion on what is surely one of the finest debut albums ever made tends to be somewhat polarised these days. Detractors of what eventually, sadly, unforgivably, metamorphosed into the ultimate slush-rock outfit simply ignore it; admirers of the earlier stuff who nonetheless try to distance themselves from the currently unfashionable genre of jazz-rock describe the band as a mainstream hard-rock quartet accompanied by a more-adventurous-than-average Memphis-style horn trio. In fact Chicago Transit Authority has real jazz in bucketloads, alongside blissed-out rock, blues, funk-soul and some wilful psychedelic oddness, particularly in the lyrics and occasional sound effects. And in this instance the mixture really does work.
The first thing that hits your consciousness is the bullhorn-brash confidence of this nascent outfit. Seven unknown but uncompromising musicians offer as their first recording a double album containing eleven lengthy tracks (and one short prologue). The staple fare is meticulously arranged songs, some of which contain enough modulations and changes of tempo to allow them to qualify as suites. Heaven knows how long they rehearsed to get their sh*t this tight, but they are that good and they know it. What other band had the chutzpah to include on its debut a seven-minute solo guitar piece comprising only electronic feedback, long before Lou Reed or Neil Young did so? No wonder the guitarist can be heard laughing into the amplifier mike half way through the piece. He’s not giving the finger to the record company; he’s saying, “this isn’t gratuitous noise, this is our art: make up your own mind whether it’s valid”.
All the musicians are excellent, but in particular guitarist Terry Kath can give Hendrix a fright in the sustain/widdling stakes (“Poem 58”: reportedly, Jimi rated him as a peer) and can perform a continually-inventive twelve-minute strut on the pentatonic comparable to Frank Zappa at his best (“Liberation”). Yes, the horns can throw in the choreographed stabs, but they show themselves capable of ambitious yet economical improv soloing (“Introduction”). Together, the septet move beyond finely honed jazzy pieces (“Beginnings”) through a bludgeoning riff-blues (“South California Purples”) to a latin-drenched drum solo (the fine cover of Steve Winwood’s “I’m A Man”), while the lyrics veer from hippy-dippy mysticism (“Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?”) to abrupt political statement (“Prologue, August 29, 1968” / “Someday”). The latter segues seamlessly and intelligently out of the former, a location recording of a chanting civil rights crowd, to drum the message home.
Chicago’s second release was also a jazzy double album, but the experimental weirdness was gone, leaving only a more sterile virtuosity. After that, it was downhill all the way to “If You Leave Me Now”. Chicago Transit Authority stands as their finest.

Chicago Transit Authority

Opinion on what is surely one of the finest debut albums ever made tends to be somewhat polarised these days. Detractors of what eventually, sadly, unforgivably, metamorphosed into the ultimate slush-rock outfit simply ignore it; admirers of the earlier stuff who nonetheless try to distance themselves from the currently unfashionable genre of jazz-rock describe the band as a mainstream hard-rock quartet accompanied by a more-adventurous-than-average Memphis-style horn trio. In fact Chicago Transit Authority has real jazz in bucketloads, alongside blissed-out rock, blues, funk-soul and some wilful psychedelic oddness, particularly in the lyrics and occasional sound effects. And in this instance the mixture really does work.

The first thing that hits your consciousness is the bullhorn-brash confidence of this nascent outfit. Seven unknown but uncompromising musicians offer as their first recording a double album containing eleven lengthy tracks (and one short prologue). The staple fare is meticulously arranged songs, some of which contain enough modulations and changes of tempo to allow them to qualify as suites. Heaven knows how long they rehearsed to get their sh*t this tight, but they are that good and they know it. What other band had the chutzpah to include on its debut a seven-minute solo guitar piece comprising only electronic feedback, long before Lou Reed or Neil Young did so? No wonder the guitarist can be heard laughing into the amplifier mic half way through the piece. He’s not giving the finger to the record company; he’s saying, “this isn’t gratuitous noise, this is our art: make up your own mind whether it’s valid.”

All the musicians are excellent, but in particular guitarist Terry Kath can give Hendrix a fright in the sustain/widdling stakes (“Poem 58”: reportedly, Jimi rated him as a peer) and can perform a continually-inventive twelve-minute strut on the pentatonic comparable to Frank Zappa at his best (“Liberation”). Yes, the horns can throw in the choreographed stabs, but they show themselves capable of ambitious yet economical improv soloing (“Introduction”). Together, the septet move beyond finely honed jazzy pieces (“Beginnings”) through a bludgeoning riff-blues (“South California Purples”) to a latin-drenched drum solo (the fine cover of Steve Winwood’s “I’m A Man”), while the lyrics veer from hippy-dippy mysticism (“Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?”) to abrupt political statement (“Prologue, August 29, 1968” / “Someday”). The latter segues seamlessly and intelligently out of the former, a location recording of a chanting civil rights crowd, to drum the message home.

Chicago’s second release was also a jazzy double album, but the experimental weirdness was gone, leaving only a more sterile virtuosity. After that, it was downhill all the way to “If You Leave Me Now.” Chicago Transit Authority stands as their finest.

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“Prologue, August 29, 1968”

:D CD Reissue | 2002 | Rhino | amazon ]
:) Original Vinyl | 1969 | Columbia | search ebay ]
;) MP3 Album | download ]
8-) Spotify link | listen ]

Procol Harum “A Salty Dog”

A Salty Dog

Agruably Procol Harum’s finest hour, A Salty Dog (A&M, 1969) was the last album with keyboard/organ player Matthew Fisher.  Fisher’s keyboards dominate typical Procol Harum numbers like “Pilgrim’s Progress,” “All This and More,” and the excellent progressive rocker “Wreck of the Hesperus.”  These songs (all very good) are what you’d expect to find on a late 60’s Procol Harum record, a slow paced, keyboard driven sound.  It’s the remaining tracks that push the group’s resources to the limit, seeing them branch out into new musical territory that is often exciting and original.

The album opened with the title track, “A Salty Dog.”  One of Procol Harum’s most ambitious statements, this composition features beautiful string arrangements and Gary Brooker’s tremendous vocals (he never sounded better).  Also of note are B.J. Wilson’s powerhouse drum work and the brilliant lyrics of Keith Reid, which accurately describe the paranoia ocean explorers encounter at sea.  For these reasons, the music and lyricism work well together, creating a peculiar sense of impending doom or fear of the unknown.  “A Salty Dog” is still regarded as one of the finest pieces of early progressive rock, and with good reason, it’s a superb song that conjures up eerie feelings – a must own.  Other standouts are the dreamy folk of “Too Much Between Us,”  intelligent roots rock in “The Hand of Human Kindness” and the pre World War II style blues of “Juicy John Pink.”  The latter sounds lo-fi and may be the rawest, most basic track Procol Harum has ever cut; it really is an authentic blues piece too, highlighted by Trower’s fantastic guitar leads and Brooker’s boozy late nite vocals.  “Boredom,” another unique number, is a pretty accoustic campfire jam with distinct Caribbean rhythms.  This is an LP full of variety and style. 

Hard rock enthusiasts may want to pick this up for the great, sludgey rocker titled “The Devil Came From Kansas.”  This one has pounding drums and pile driving guitar riffs, probably their heaviest song – essential music for the classic rock fan.  In fact, all throughout the album Robin Trower’s guitar work is a joy, reaching highs with his own epic composition “Crucifixion Lane” and the cool, stuttering fuzztones heard on aforementioned “The Hand of Human Kindness.”  The band tries all kinds of different experiments out on A Salty Dog, so in a sense it may sound overwhelming at first.  Patience and mutiple listens pay off and reveal A Salty Dog to be one of the best classic rock albums of 1969.

Originals are easy to find in good shape (vinyl).  There have been several good cd reissues by Salvo (2009) and Westside as well.  These reissues feature excellent bonus material and copious liner notes.  By the way, A Salty Dog is slang for an experienced sailor or a libidinous man.  It’s also the name of an acoholic beverage which is made with vodka or gin and grapefruit juice.

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“Milk Of Human Kindness”

:) Original Vinyl | 1969 | A&M | search ebay ]
:D CD Reissue | 2009 | Salvo | amazon ]

Harvey Mandel “Cristo Redentor”

Cristo Redentor

This gently psychedelic album is another of my vinyl bargain bin discoveries from the early ‘70s, which I picked up only because I knew Harvey Mandel had played with my favourites Canned Heat and John Mayall. Best known as a sideman – he later auditioned for the Rolling Stones on Mick Taylor’s departure – this was Harvey’s first solo work, dating from 1968, and an impossibly young-looking Mandel is pictured on the back artwork, a diminutive figure dwarfed by his big Gibson 355. The grooves within demonstrate not only his virtuosity on guitar, but also why his tenure with Heat and Mayall was so brief and why the Stones declined to hire him. Mayall described his technique as “Harvey’s wall of sound”, which aptly encompasses his early mastery of controlled feedback through his customised Bogan amplifier, and his later featuring of two-handed tapping, well before EVH got hold of that particular trick.

This album is completely instrumental, a rarity in pop-psych terms; the only voice to be heard is that of a wordless soprano singer on the title track. However, the stylistic diversity of the tunes and the variety of the backing tracks means that it is by no means repetitive. It was mostly recorded in LA and Nashville, using the top rhythm section sessioneers of both camps: Art Stavro and Eddie Hoh from the Wrecking Crew, stalwarts of the early Monkees sessions, and Bob Moore and Kenny Buttrey, soon to anchor Dylan’s Nashville Skykine. The LA tracks also feature tight string and brass arrangements, while the Nashville ones benefit from Pete Drake’s sympathetic pedal steel accompaniment.

The album as a whole is the best late-night-listening record I know of, beautifully laid-back funky arrangements fronted by a bewildering array of restrained guitar tricks from Mandel, dazzling but never flashy or tasteless. The titles give the idea: “Lights Out”, “Nashville 1AM”, “Before Six”. “Cristo Redentor” is Portuguese for Christ The Redeemer, and this title track is the exception to the rule of funk, being a solemn, operatic piece.

“Before Six” features some of Harvey’s most mind-boggling sustain work, the sound looping wildly between the stereo speakers, plus a mouth-watering cameo on Hammond by longtime LA collaborator Barry Goldberg and tasty brass stabs throughout. “You Can’t Tell Me” is funkier than your average Nashville session, with Harvey wringing out the best Memphis scale licks I’ve ever heard, intertwining with Pete Drake’s slippery steel chords.

The CD reissue, on the estimable Raven label from Australia, dates from 2003 and includes bonus tracks from Harvey’s Canned Heat days and from his own short-lived instrumental band, Pure Food & Drug Act. None of these quite live up to the quality of the solo album tracks, though Heat’s “Let’s Work Together” – the nearest Harvey ever got to being a pop star – has a certain boozy charm.

On this CD release the two sides of the original vinyl have been reversed, probably to make the best-known track, “Wade In The Water”, the leadoff track. The original running order works better, so if you get hold of this CD, play tracks 6-10 followed by tracks 1-5 for the most satisfying programme.

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“You Can’t Tell Me”

:D CD Reissue | 2003 | Raven | buy ]
:) Original Vinyl | 1968 | Phillips | search ]

R. Stevie Moore “Phonography”

Phonography

R. Stevie Moore, with hundreds of albums under his belt – most of them home-recordings released on hissy cassette tape and hand-marked CD-R – is an unrecognized genius. Born in Nashville, son to session man and Elvis’s bass player Bob Moore, Robert Steven Moore grew up in the music business. Opting to make it on his own with the reel-to-reel instead of working sessions, his dedication to independent recording has yielded troves of unaffected, wildly original music. He recently told Vanity Fair: “I’ve worked harder than anybody to become rich and famous, but I remain poor and anonymous!”

Phonography was Stevie’s first official long player, recorded from 1973 to 1976 and originally released in 100 copies on the artist’s private Vital Records. Comes with lo-fi, direct input, overloaded electric guitar, a classical approach to warbly analog synth arrangements, hi-pitched erratic vocals, oddball skits that are genuinely funny, and an exceptionally fine gift for pop songcraft. Within a few listens you’ll hear traces of Brian Wilson, The Mothers, Gary Wilson, Daniel Johnston (especially on goofball cuts like “Goodbye Piano”), and Ariel Pink, a big fan who had R. Stevie open up his recent tour.

The opener, “Melbourne,” sets an unexpected stage: an anthemic introduction on an Elka synthesizer. Then Stevie shares a few words about his background whilst taking a piss!  The album is schizophrenic, but wonderfully listenable, even through a thick wall of magnetic tape. The beauty is in the fidelity, Moore recognizes what’s special about home recordings, and the record’s flow is engaging rather than plain weird.

Phonography record is finally available on vinyl again, remastered by Sundazed from R. Stevie’s original reels with the restored Vital artwork and insert. Earlier this year a CD version was reissued by Recommended Records in the UK and it’s available on iTunes as well.

Phonography is a record like no other, and merely an introduction to the incredible world of R. Stevie Moore. Find more than you could ever handle at rsteviemoore.com.

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“I Want You In My Life”

:D CD Reissue | 1998 | Flamingo | rsteviemoore.com ]
;) MP3 Album | download at amzn ]
8-) Spotify link | listen ]

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Van Dyke Parks “Discover America”

Discover America

Van Dyke Parks’ second album, released four years after his celebrated Song Cycle,  is an exploration of Trinidadian calypso music infused with Parks’ ingeniously offbeat treatment. Like its predecessor, the record is clever, intriguing, and musically brilliant. Discover America adds an unexpected ingredient: fun.

The album opener echoes that of Song Cycle‘s, an intentionally degraded song clip, “Jack Palance” performed by the Mighty Sparrow himself (those interested in exploring more calypso through this angle might investigate Mighty Sparrow’s Hot and Sweet, an album produced by Van Dyke Parks in 1974). Wooden marimbas, steel drums, island rhythms, and other calypso staples (supplied by the Esso Trinidad Steel Band) grace many of the tracks, but Parks maintains style thru vast string arrangements, orchestration, gratuitous experimental bits, and the vintage Americana themes examined in the lyrics.

Parks reimagines and rearranges traditional material on Discover America, as well as borrowing two killer tunes from Allen Touissaint (“Occapella” and “Riverboat”) and Lowell George’s “Sailin’ Shoes” (Little Feat actually play on Park’s “FDR In Trinidad”). The adapted material is brilliantly produced and addictingly melodic. Couple of standouts include the lilting “John Jones” and mind boggling “G-Man Hoover” (a tune as weird as it is captivating), though the entire album is consistently 5-star. A masterpiece from a master.

Song Cycle is great but not for everyone. If you’re looking to play Van Dyke Parks in a public forum, this is the album. I would submit that it’s catchy, fun, odd, and funky enough to be played just about anywhere. Have it with you this summer.

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“John Jones”

:) Vinyl Reissue | Sundazed | buy sundazed ]
:D CD Reissue | 1990 | Warner | buy amazon ]
:) Original Vinyl | 1972 |  Warner | search ebay ]
8-) Spotify link | listen ]

Double Zappa |FZ| 1968-1969 Solo

zappa 68-69

These two mostly instrumental albums are the first Frank Zappa solo records. Sans Mothers, Zappa used these forays to assert his interest in serious composition, drawing on influences like Igor Stravinsky, Edgar Varèse, and of course, popular rock and roll music.

Lumpy Gravy (1968-)
Lumpy Gravy is a wildly impressive collection of musical ideas, set in two musical suites. Incorporating surf and pop rhythm sections with musique concrete and absurdist vocal samples (recorded inside a piano with all the keys pressed down, nabbing harmonics from the resonating strings nearby), it does in fact feel like “phase two of We’re Only in It for the Money,” borrowing its wonderful sped-up, tape manipulated feel. The composition is loaded with themes that would be recycled on later releases (“Bwana Dik,” “Oh No,” “King Kong”). Recorded with the Abnuceals Emuukha Electric Symphony and meticulously spliced and diced by FZ, Lumpy Gravy is a monumental achievement – but only a drop in the bucket from one of rock’s most prolific composers.

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“Duodenum (Theme From Lumpy Gravy)”

:D CD Reissue | 1995 | Zappa Records | from amazon ]
:) Original Vinyl | 1968 | Verve |  search ebay ]

Hot Rats (1969)
I wouldn’t say this album is notably better than any other FZ record, but it caught on big. Maybe it’s the short, catchy title; may be the toned down weirdness;  could be that Zappa just cut all the bullshit and delivered an undeniable slab of rock that the masses could dig and critics would acclaim. Two of these tracks (“Peaches En Regalia” and “Son of Mr. Green Genes”) even made the legendary (albeit illegal) jazz standards tome, The Real Book, proving the album was the equal of contemporary ‘musician’s music.’ While “Peaches,” featuring Shuggie Otis on bass guitar, may have been the zaniest track ever to become a standard (played on baseball stadium organs to this day), the rest of the album eschews condensed complexity in favor of long form jams and sickening guitar work. Captain Beefheart’s vocal performance on the hot-licked “Willie The Pimp” might be one of his defining moments, though certainly not from Capn’s viewpoint – his distaste for FZ’s production prowess begins here. The rest of the album is fully instrumental – groovy, melodic, jazzy, brilliant, essential listening. In case you haven’t heard it by now:

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“Peaches En Regalia”

:D CD Reissue | 1995 | Zappa Records | from amazon ]
:) Original Vinyl | 1969 | Reprise | search ebay ]