Why Do I Love Queen?
The first time I heard Queen was on the awesome bootleg "Command Performance" documenting Queen's performance at the Hammersmith Odeon, London England on December 24, 1975. From there I branched out to their studio albums.
If you really want to know why I love Queen the way that I do, you need look no further than side two of their second album, Queen II... it goes something like this...
Ogre Battle (Queen II)
The Fairy-Feller's Master-Stroke / Nevermore (Queen II)
The March Of The Black Queen (Queen II)
Funny How Love Is (Queen II)
The Seven Seas Of Rhye (Queen II)
And that, my friends is why I love Queen...
Music......Literature......Photography......Assorted Musings
Friday, July 15, 2011
Friday, July 01, 2011
Klaatu Barada Nikto
No wait, while I am a big fan of The Day The Earth Stood Still, with Michael Rennie as our man Klaatu himself (Keanu who?) (Quick, what was the robot's name? If it took you more than a nanosecond to think of it, well, no bonus points for you...).
Hail to the king baby...
And while I love Bruce Campbell as Ash, the hero of all three of Sam Rami's brilliant Evil Dead movies, it isn't that Klaatu Barada Nikto of which I wish to speak.
Rather, I am here today (well, tonight technically) to speak of the Canadian Prog Rock band who took their name from Michael Rennie's iconic character.
The first I heard of Klaatu was following the August 1976 release of their debut LP release, 3:47 EST. I would have been hanging out at Star Records... the record store I grew up in, downtown Oshawa, when the proprietor Mike played it for me. Well, probably my best friend and I. While, at the time, Led Zeppelin, Aerosmith, Alice Cooper and Deep Purple were more our usual musical fare, there was, nonetheless, something very unique and fetching about this new band.
From the opening strains of Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft (The Recognized Anthem of World Contact Day) to the decaying last notes of Little Neutrino (well, until the mouse squeak at the very least) the whole album struck a very powerfull chord. And we weren't the only ones that noticed. While Klaatu never really blossomed much outside of their, as it turned out, native Canada, enough people were intrigued by their musical supplications to analyze the album further.
At some point, not long after the release, rumours surfaced that Klaatu were, in fact, the reformed Beatles, recording in annonimity; not a bad feat for a rumour in a day and an age when the concept of the world wide web was still just a wet dream of one computer nerd or another.
In point of fact, Klaatu were Canucks John Woloschuk (vocals, bass, acoustic guitar, keyboards), Dee Long (guitars, keyboards, vocals) and Terry Draper (drums, percussion, vocals). The Beatles rumours were something that the band members chaffed at and always denied.
Part of the mystique that allowed these rumours to flourish in the first place had alot to do with the fact Klaatu never played live. They were a studio band; a concept which The Beatles, in their later days, had, if not invented, perfected. Lack of any real liner notes regarding personelle on their albums only helped to fan the flames.
Their second album, Hope, was considered by many fans to be equal or, in some ways, superiour to their debut release. Hope was a concept album recorded with The London Symphony Orchestra, about, as Wikipedia states "the sole survivor of an arrogant race of beings, who warns space travellers of hazards in the last days or his life"
For me this second album didn't quite resonate as strongly with me as their first. That being said, there were still some pretty fucking strong tracks and, as a whole, acquitted itself most admirably.
Songs like Madman, The Lonliest of Creatures, So Said the Lighthouse Keeper and Hope were more than worthy successors to the first album.
Klaatu releaed three more albums; Sir Army Suit (1978), Endangered Species (1980) and Magentalane (1981), but none of them ever managed to match their first two releases.
Here then are my picks for some of Klaatu's best works. If you have already known of the band, I hope this serves as some kind of reminder of a bright, young band... If you haven't, then I hope this serves as a sufficient introduction.
Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft (The Recognized Anthem of World Contact Day) (3:47 EST)
Sir Bodsworth Rugglesby III (3:47 EST)
Anus of Uranus (3:47 EST)
Sub-Rosa Subway (3:47 EST)
A friend of mine, by the name of Steve Douglas, asked after the song Sub-Rosa Subway from Klaatu's first album in no small part due to the fact it, of all the songs on the album, sparked the whole Klaatu are The Beatles kerfufel. Or Are Klaatu The Beatles? kerfufel, depending upon how you look at it. The song was left out by way of a brain fart I had. This is a great tune and, even after all these years, I'll be damned if they don't sound, at least a little, like that long ago band from Liverpool.
True Life Hero (3:47 EST)
Madman (Hope)
We're Off You Know (Hope)
So Said The Lighthouse Keeper (Hope)
By the by... in answer to the above mentioned question... the name of Klaatu's bright and shinny friend is... Gort.
Gort, Klaatu Barada Nikto...
And now you know.
No wait, while I am a big fan of The Day The Earth Stood Still, with Michael Rennie as our man Klaatu himself (Keanu who?) (Quick, what was the robot's name? If it took you more than a nanosecond to think of it, well, no bonus points for you...).
Hail to the king baby...
And while I love Bruce Campbell as Ash, the hero of all three of Sam Rami's brilliant Evil Dead movies, it isn't that Klaatu Barada Nikto of which I wish to speak.
Rather, I am here today (well, tonight technically) to speak of the Canadian Prog Rock band who took their name from Michael Rennie's iconic character.
The first I heard of Klaatu was following the August 1976 release of their debut LP release, 3:47 EST. I would have been hanging out at Star Records... the record store I grew up in, downtown Oshawa, when the proprietor Mike played it for me. Well, probably my best friend and I. While, at the time, Led Zeppelin, Aerosmith, Alice Cooper and Deep Purple were more our usual musical fare, there was, nonetheless, something very unique and fetching about this new band.
From the opening strains of Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft (The Recognized Anthem of World Contact Day) to the decaying last notes of Little Neutrino (well, until the mouse squeak at the very least) the whole album struck a very powerfull chord. And we weren't the only ones that noticed. While Klaatu never really blossomed much outside of their, as it turned out, native Canada, enough people were intrigued by their musical supplications to analyze the album further.
At some point, not long after the release, rumours surfaced that Klaatu were, in fact, the reformed Beatles, recording in annonimity; not a bad feat for a rumour in a day and an age when the concept of the world wide web was still just a wet dream of one computer nerd or another.
In point of fact, Klaatu were Canucks John Woloschuk (vocals, bass, acoustic guitar, keyboards), Dee Long (guitars, keyboards, vocals) and Terry Draper (drums, percussion, vocals). The Beatles rumours were something that the band members chaffed at and always denied.
Part of the mystique that allowed these rumours to flourish in the first place had alot to do with the fact Klaatu never played live. They were a studio band; a concept which The Beatles, in their later days, had, if not invented, perfected. Lack of any real liner notes regarding personelle on their albums only helped to fan the flames.
Their second album, Hope, was considered by many fans to be equal or, in some ways, superiour to their debut release. Hope was a concept album recorded with The London Symphony Orchestra, about, as Wikipedia states "the sole survivor of an arrogant race of beings, who warns space travellers of hazards in the last days or his life"
For me this second album didn't quite resonate as strongly with me as their first. That being said, there were still some pretty fucking strong tracks and, as a whole, acquitted itself most admirably.
Songs like Madman, The Lonliest of Creatures, So Said the Lighthouse Keeper and Hope were more than worthy successors to the first album.
Klaatu releaed three more albums; Sir Army Suit (1978), Endangered Species (1980) and Magentalane (1981), but none of them ever managed to match their first two releases.
Here then are my picks for some of Klaatu's best works. If you have already known of the band, I hope this serves as some kind of reminder of a bright, young band... If you haven't, then I hope this serves as a sufficient introduction.
Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft (The Recognized Anthem of World Contact Day) (3:47 EST)
Sir Bodsworth Rugglesby III (3:47 EST)
Anus of Uranus (3:47 EST)
Sub-Rosa Subway (3:47 EST)
A friend of mine, by the name of Steve Douglas, asked after the song Sub-Rosa Subway from Klaatu's first album in no small part due to the fact it, of all the songs on the album, sparked the whole Klaatu are The Beatles kerfufel. Or Are Klaatu The Beatles? kerfufel, depending upon how you look at it. The song was left out by way of a brain fart I had. This is a great tune and, even after all these years, I'll be damned if they don't sound, at least a little, like that long ago band from Liverpool.
True Life Hero (3:47 EST)
Madman (Hope)
We're Off You Know (Hope)
So Said The Lighthouse Keeper (Hope)
By the by... in answer to the above mentioned question... the name of Klaatu's bright and shinny friend is... Gort.
Gort, Klaatu Barada Nikto...
And now you know.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
So, who out there likes live music?
Sorry, wrong question.
Who out there LOVES live music?
Yeah, that would be the right question.
If you LOVE live music the way that I LOVE live music, then, have I got a site for you. Do yourself a huge favour and check out www.wolfgangsvault.com.
Wolfgang's Vault is the place where a whole shit load of Bill Graham's meticulously compiled archives from the heyday of rock 'n' roll has been assembled. Don't know who Bill Graham is? Well, back in the day, he was only THE most influential concert promoter. How influential? Let me put it this way; if any band played in North America, odds were they were presented by Bill Graham. Were talking The Rolling Stones, The Who, The Band and a shitload more artists that didn't necessarily have the word "The" in their title.
How about The Sex Pistols very last public performance with Sid Vicious? Never mind audio, WV has it in pristine video as well.
The Who at Tanglewood outdoor theatre in Lenox, Massachusetts near the end of what for them I'm sure was an interminable run of playing Tommy start to finish in stunning quality video. Aerosmith playing a watershed show at the Schaefer Music Festival in Central Park back in 1975 shortly after the release of their seminal album Toys In The Attic.
The complete Last Waltz show on video. One of the last shows Lynyrd Skynyrd ever performed before that fateful day in October of 1977 when the Convair 240 ran out of gas and crashed just outside of Baton Rouge, again captured on video.
AC/DC, U2 back in their club days, The Tubes, A Flock of Seagulls, The Allman Brothers Band, Alice Cooper and OH so many more artists captured in audio, video or, sometimes both.
If you love live music, then you really owe it to yourself to check out Wolfgang's Vault. It's free to join but, if you do want to become a premium member you can download many of these amazing time capsule shows.
Sorry, wrong question.
Who out there LOVES live music?
Yeah, that would be the right question.
If you LOVE live music the way that I LOVE live music, then, have I got a site for you. Do yourself a huge favour and check out www.wolfgangsvault.com.
Wolfgang's Vault is the place where a whole shit load of Bill Graham's meticulously compiled archives from the heyday of rock 'n' roll has been assembled. Don't know who Bill Graham is? Well, back in the day, he was only THE most influential concert promoter. How influential? Let me put it this way; if any band played in North America, odds were they were presented by Bill Graham. Were talking The Rolling Stones, The Who, The Band and a shitload more artists that didn't necessarily have the word "The" in their title.
How about The Sex Pistols very last public performance with Sid Vicious? Never mind audio, WV has it in pristine video as well.
The Who at Tanglewood outdoor theatre in Lenox, Massachusetts near the end of what for them I'm sure was an interminable run of playing Tommy start to finish in stunning quality video. Aerosmith playing a watershed show at the Schaefer Music Festival in Central Park back in 1975 shortly after the release of their seminal album Toys In The Attic.
The complete Last Waltz show on video. One of the last shows Lynyrd Skynyrd ever performed before that fateful day in October of 1977 when the Convair 240 ran out of gas and crashed just outside of Baton Rouge, again captured on video.
AC/DC, U2 back in their club days, The Tubes, A Flock of Seagulls, The Allman Brothers Band, Alice Cooper and OH so many more artists captured in audio, video or, sometimes both.
If you love live music, then you really owe it to yourself to check out Wolfgang's Vault. It's free to join but, if you do want to become a premium member you can download many of these amazing time capsule shows.
Monday, April 04, 2011
So, here it is... a tentative, hopefull glimpse at the first couple of chapters of what will most likely be my next novel; a sequel to Not Only Am I With The Band... tentatively now titled I Am Not Animal.
Believe me when I tell you that the feed back you provide will most definately be taken to heart. So, if it pleases you, I now humbly ask for your feed back on the following. Be as brutal as you need be; the more honest the feedback, the better I can hope it to be come publication day...
Chapter 1: When an Animal Roars In the Forest
A point of view can be a dangerous luxury when substituted for insight and understanding.
Marshall McLuhan
I am not Animal
Slogan on a t-shirt circa 1981
Ruth had been working at the Whitby Free Press about two weeks before I finally worked up the courage to ask her out for drinks after the weekly newspaper had gone to press; which is to say that it had gone to Bowmanville to be printed, since our little slice of heaven in Whitby was nothing more than an expanded backroom and, therefore, had no room to house printing presses of our own.
There was a nice quiet bar right across the street; Larry’s Roost.
“I believe you promised me a drink this evening,” cooed Ruth in her Glaswegian accent.
The two of us had hit it off pretty well after the managing editor and owner Mike B had hired her, ostensibly to help his long suffering wife Marj out in the advertising department.
Ruth was petite, with shoulder length auburn hair that was almost too intense to look at. She cut a buxom figure, filled out in all the right places.
“I believe you are right,” I replied, hoping against hope that I had managed to maintain eye contact with her for a long enough period of time to remotely qualify as judicious.
She held out her bent left arm to me and bated her eyes coquettishly.
“Why sir, would you kehndly escort me to the digs so ah might avail mahself of a most refreshing Mint Julep?”
Guys, you really haven’t lived until you have heard someone with a thick Scottish burr attempting a deep southern U.S. accent.
“Either that,” I offered, “or we could hit Larry’s for a beer and a couple of Tequila shots.”
“Why sir, you was jest readin’ mah mahnd. Let me away and retrieve mah purse.”
Now on most press nights it was all hands on deck; the editorial staff, which consisted of Mike K and myself, would type all of our stories and headlines into a digital copy machine which would in turn spit out a block or strip of text which could then be cut as required on the layout board and “pasted” onto the copy sheet; the advertising staff which consisted of Marj B, Frank and, most recently, Ruth, hanging about and fighting it out with Mike K over page space and; the managing editor / owner Mike B who would screen any photographs earmarked for publication in that week’s paper using a similar process to the text. Once the last flat was finalized and approved for general edification all concerned parties would abandon ship in as expedient a fashion as to make even the speediest of rats proud.
On this particular evening I had no reason to assume that anything should be any different. I was under the impression that it was just Ruth and I left holding down the fort. Time was diligently chasing 11:30 pm so that situation should not have been that untoward.
As I waited in the customer facing convenience store front I heard another male voice engage Ruth. It was our glorious leader, Mike B.
In retrospect, words still fail me as to a physical description of Mike B; save to say that if Lou Ferrigno ever needed a stunt double then he had been born for that role. He was the type of leader who would, quite without any kind of conscious effort on his part, inspire undying scorn and ridicule amongst his charges.
Now what the fuck does he want?
Five minutes past; then ten while I remained upfront, as quiet as humanly possible. Pushing 15 minutes I was just working up the nerve to make my way back towards the bullpen when Ruth appeared from out the darkness. We stood and regarded each other silently for a moment. It was her who broke the silence, not with words per se, although her actions of pressing her boobs up against my youthful body spoke volumes.
“I’ll meet you over at Larry’s in fifteen minutes; twenty tops,” she purred. “Order me a Labatt’s Blue, and a Blow Job for yourself.”
Any rational thought that I might have been capable of at that point completely deserted me. If she had kept rubbing up against me like that I couldn’t promise I wouldn’t have given my all right then and there. Thankfully, she withdrew.
“F..f…f…fifteen minutes,” I stammered, “I’ll be there.”
Ruth smiled beatifically at me before turning and sauntering back into the darkness.
I stood, dumbfounded, watching her perfectly formed ass retreat from me; each subtle shift of her cheeks promising more than any young man could ever hope to imagine.
Chapter 2: Captain Kenny Strikes Again
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay here another year and take your Grade 13?”
I was sitting in the principal’s office in good old M.C.V.I. Ken Ridge; Captain Kenny to those who haunted the hallowed halls of the school radio station C.R.S.M. The thought of spending one more year in this emotional hell hole freaked me out more than I could have ever known.
“Well?” he damn near bellowed; just daring me to resist; contradict him.
I looked balefully at my shoes as if they might provide some kind of hither to unknown pearl of wisdom. Nothing; well shit.
“Fine,” Captain Kenny continued, taking my silence as acquiescence, “we’ll get you all set up for…”
“No…” I interrupted meekly.
He paused.
“What?”
“No,” I managed.
“No?”
After a tentative moment.
“No.”
Well, this just changed things; changed things all to hell and back, didn’t it. Captain Kenny puffed himself up to prodigious dimensions in advance of the well rehearsed speech.
“Now you know…” he glanced surreptitiously at the dossier sitting on his desk, “Stephen that grade 13 grads are much more likely to…”
“I want to be a journalist,” I blurted.
He paused, briefly, but this revelation didn’t set him back much.
“Well now, if you want to be a…”
“Doesn’t grade 13 focus primarily on mathematics?”
My chutzpa still manages to inspire and amaze me to this very day.
“Well,” stammered my soon to be my former principle.
“I’ve already done the research; I don’t need grade 13 to attend Durham College for Journalism.”
“But,” continued Captain Kenny.
“So,” I overrode, “I will not be returning to M.C.V.I. next year to take grade 13.”
This, at last, seemed to stymie his attempts to bring me back. We sat there in his office; the minutes slowly ticking away. After five minutes of staring at each other he sprang purposefully to life.
“Please send in the next student,” he barked into his intercom.
Well damn; I knew when I have been dismissed.
Believe me when I tell you that the feed back you provide will most definately be taken to heart. So, if it pleases you, I now humbly ask for your feed back on the following. Be as brutal as you need be; the more honest the feedback, the better I can hope it to be come publication day...
Chapter 1: When an Animal Roars In the Forest
A point of view can be a dangerous luxury when substituted for insight and understanding.
Marshall McLuhan
I am not Animal
Slogan on a t-shirt circa 1981
Ruth had been working at the Whitby Free Press about two weeks before I finally worked up the courage to ask her out for drinks after the weekly newspaper had gone to press; which is to say that it had gone to Bowmanville to be printed, since our little slice of heaven in Whitby was nothing more than an expanded backroom and, therefore, had no room to house printing presses of our own.
There was a nice quiet bar right across the street; Larry’s Roost.
“I believe you promised me a drink this evening,” cooed Ruth in her Glaswegian accent.
The two of us had hit it off pretty well after the managing editor and owner Mike B had hired her, ostensibly to help his long suffering wife Marj out in the advertising department.
Ruth was petite, with shoulder length auburn hair that was almost too intense to look at. She cut a buxom figure, filled out in all the right places.
“I believe you are right,” I replied, hoping against hope that I had managed to maintain eye contact with her for a long enough period of time to remotely qualify as judicious.
She held out her bent left arm to me and bated her eyes coquettishly.
“Why sir, would you kehndly escort me to the digs so ah might avail mahself of a most refreshing Mint Julep?”
Guys, you really haven’t lived until you have heard someone with a thick Scottish burr attempting a deep southern U.S. accent.
“Either that,” I offered, “or we could hit Larry’s for a beer and a couple of Tequila shots.”
“Why sir, you was jest readin’ mah mahnd. Let me away and retrieve mah purse.”
Now on most press nights it was all hands on deck; the editorial staff, which consisted of Mike K and myself, would type all of our stories and headlines into a digital copy machine which would in turn spit out a block or strip of text which could then be cut as required on the layout board and “pasted” onto the copy sheet; the advertising staff which consisted of Marj B, Frank and, most recently, Ruth, hanging about and fighting it out with Mike K over page space and; the managing editor / owner Mike B who would screen any photographs earmarked for publication in that week’s paper using a similar process to the text. Once the last flat was finalized and approved for general edification all concerned parties would abandon ship in as expedient a fashion as to make even the speediest of rats proud.
On this particular evening I had no reason to assume that anything should be any different. I was under the impression that it was just Ruth and I left holding down the fort. Time was diligently chasing 11:30 pm so that situation should not have been that untoward.
As I waited in the customer facing convenience store front I heard another male voice engage Ruth. It was our glorious leader, Mike B.
In retrospect, words still fail me as to a physical description of Mike B; save to say that if Lou Ferrigno ever needed a stunt double then he had been born for that role. He was the type of leader who would, quite without any kind of conscious effort on his part, inspire undying scorn and ridicule amongst his charges.
Now what the fuck does he want?
Five minutes past; then ten while I remained upfront, as quiet as humanly possible. Pushing 15 minutes I was just working up the nerve to make my way back towards the bullpen when Ruth appeared from out the darkness. We stood and regarded each other silently for a moment. It was her who broke the silence, not with words per se, although her actions of pressing her boobs up against my youthful body spoke volumes.
“I’ll meet you over at Larry’s in fifteen minutes; twenty tops,” she purred. “Order me a Labatt’s Blue, and a Blow Job for yourself.”
Any rational thought that I might have been capable of at that point completely deserted me. If she had kept rubbing up against me like that I couldn’t promise I wouldn’t have given my all right then and there. Thankfully, she withdrew.
“F..f…f…fifteen minutes,” I stammered, “I’ll be there.”
Ruth smiled beatifically at me before turning and sauntering back into the darkness.
I stood, dumbfounded, watching her perfectly formed ass retreat from me; each subtle shift of her cheeks promising more than any young man could ever hope to imagine.
Chapter 2: Captain Kenny Strikes Again
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay here another year and take your Grade 13?”
I was sitting in the principal’s office in good old M.C.V.I. Ken Ridge; Captain Kenny to those who haunted the hallowed halls of the school radio station C.R.S.M. The thought of spending one more year in this emotional hell hole freaked me out more than I could have ever known.
“Well?” he damn near bellowed; just daring me to resist; contradict him.
I looked balefully at my shoes as if they might provide some kind of hither to unknown pearl of wisdom. Nothing; well shit.
“Fine,” Captain Kenny continued, taking my silence as acquiescence, “we’ll get you all set up for…”
“No…” I interrupted meekly.
He paused.
“What?”
“No,” I managed.
“No?”
After a tentative moment.
“No.”
Well, this just changed things; changed things all to hell and back, didn’t it. Captain Kenny puffed himself up to prodigious dimensions in advance of the well rehearsed speech.
“Now you know…” he glanced surreptitiously at the dossier sitting on his desk, “Stephen that grade 13 grads are much more likely to…”
“I want to be a journalist,” I blurted.
He paused, briefly, but this revelation didn’t set him back much.
“Well now, if you want to be a…”
“Doesn’t grade 13 focus primarily on mathematics?”
My chutzpa still manages to inspire and amaze me to this very day.
“Well,” stammered my soon to be my former principle.
“I’ve already done the research; I don’t need grade 13 to attend Durham College for Journalism.”
“But,” continued Captain Kenny.
“So,” I overrode, “I will not be returning to M.C.V.I. next year to take grade 13.”
This, at last, seemed to stymie his attempts to bring me back. We sat there in his office; the minutes slowly ticking away. After five minutes of staring at each other he sprang purposefully to life.
“Please send in the next student,” he barked into his intercom.
Well damn; I knew when I have been dismissed.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Aardvark's Musical Musings - Frank Zappa Edition
The new and (hopefully) improved Aardvark's Aattic will be launching soon. In the meantime, I thought it would be fun to resurrect a little project that I at one time did for my friend Stefan over at his excellent Freedomain Radio site.
I'd like to take you on a journey of my favorite bands, musicians and songs that helped to shape my musical milieu such as it is. If you are familiar with these artists, then it will be a good chance to revisit an old love. If you aren't, then give them a try. You just might find a new addition to your musical mosaic.
Let's start off near the end of the alphabet with my first subject, one Frank Vincent Zappa (December 21, 1940 - December 4, 1993). Zappa was, to my mind, a musical genius, dabbling as he did in rock, jazz, electronic and orchestral themes infusing each with a scathing sense of humour and flair. In his day Zappa was insanely prolific, with well over 100 releases to his credit. While alive Frank recorded every live show; when not on the road he recorded ceaselessly in the studio environment. So much so that his widow and current keeper of the Zappa Family Trust, Gail, is still able to release original, fully realized compositions and live recordings 18 years after the great man's death from prostate cancer.
Frank started his career with The Mother's Of Invention, and weren't they just all of that and more. Upon the Mother's disolusion, Zappa continued on. His musically demanding style naturally attracted like minded virtuoso players. During his time, Frank Zappa discovered currently day defacto musical giants such as;
Guitarist Steve Vai (David Lee Roth, Public Image Limited, Whitesnake, Alice Cooper, G3) who Zappa referred to as his "little Italian virtuoso". Vai was listed on Zappa recordings from that era as having played "stunt guitar" or "impossible guitar parts".
Drummer Vinnie Colaiuta (Gino Vannelli, Joni Mitchell, Megadeath, The Beach Boys, Leonard Cohen, Jeff beck, Sting)
Guitarist Adrian Belew (David Bowie, Talking Heads, The Tom Tom Club, King Crimson) who described his time with Frank Zappa as a "crash course" in music theroy, due in no small part to Zappa's rigorous rehearsals and often technically demanding music, and has commented "I went to the Frank Zappa School of Rock."
Trombonist Bruce Fowler (Captain Beefheart, Eric Clapton, Stan Ridgway (Wall of Voodoo vocalist))
Vocalists / Comedians Flo & Eddie (Mark Volman aka the Phlorescent Leech and Howard Kaylan aka Eddie) (The Turtles, T-Rex, Steely Dan, David Cassidy, Keith Moon, Bruce Springsteen, The Psychedilic Furs, Ramones, Duran Duran, Alice Cooper)
Drummer Chester Thompson (Weather Report, Genesis, Phil Collins, Steve Hackett)
I could go on and on. Suffice it to say that Zappa always endeavored to surround himself with players who would challenge him musically.
One of the first songs I remember hearing was Dancin' Fool from his Sheik Yerbouti release. My best friend at the time Bill played it for me. Here then is a version which Zappa performed on the show Saturday Night Live in October of 1978. I don't think I can introduce this any better than Frank himself did.
Tonight we'd like to do a song about an important social problem, Disco; it deals with lonely people with no natural rhythm impinging on each other in the darkness, it's called Dancin' Fool
Dancin' Fool
Of course, growing up a young Zappa neophite it wasn't to long until I heard of THE song; you know, the song that no one mentioned or talked about in polite society. That song was, of course, Dinah-Moe Humm. Check out the painfully young Adrain Belew on guitar and vocals.
I couldn't say where she was coming from, but I just met a lady named Dinah-Moe Humm...
Dinah-Moe Humm
One thing that has always amazed me about Frank Zappa is his ability to create a great song on just about any topic imaginable. Take this next song for example. For ten long years convicted felon Michael Kenyon cut a swath from Illinois to California, robbing and, more than just occasionally administering an enema to his female victims. This man became known as the Champaign Enema Bandit (named thus after his first known attack in Champaign Illinois), the Ski Mask Bandit and, as F.Z. famously immortalized him in song, The Illinois Enema Bandit.
Is that a song title or what?
Lookin' for some rustic teenage rump, that he just might wanna pump
The Illinois Enema Bandit
Like a lot of my original musical awakening, my best friend in high school was a big Frank Zappa fan. I remember listening to my first Frank Zappa album from start to finish at his folks place. That album was Zappa in New York
. The version of this next song, The Torture Never Stops on that LP blew me away. That and Titties and Beer
A sinister little midget with a bucket and a mop where the blood goes down the drain
The Torture Never Stops
A highlight of many Frank Zappa live shows were the ad lib routines that followed a very basic format but took on the flavour of the current concert's city. Here is one such instance based loosely around a Frank Zappa call to Room Service.
Room Service
At the end of the day though, Frank was at his best when he was waging a full frontal assault on everyday sacred cows. If I might make a suggestion then please watch these next three videos one after the other, the way they were played live in concert on this particular tour. The first video, Dumb All Over calls into question the practice of oh so many people to blindly follow one particular religious dogma or another.
The second, a personal favorite of mine, Heavenly Bank Account skewers television evangelism right where it hurts. Last, but certainly not least, Suicide Chump ridicules, well, suicides.
Remember, there's a big difference between kneeling down and bending over...
Dumb All Over
Heavenly Bank Account
Suicide Chump
While I believe The Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame is, in many ways apocryphal, I'm sure that having contemporaries of yours speak sincerely and lovingly of your contribution to the vast cannon that is rock 'n' roll music must surely be gratifying. In that spirit, I feel pretty comfortable in the belief that Frank just loved this homage to his memory by non other than Lou Reed.
Just a pity that Frank's daughter Moon Zappa's acceptance speech was so forgettable...
Frank Zappa Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame Induction by Lou Reed
Check out Frank's testimony before congress on the topic of censorship and it's place (or non-place as the case may be) in popular culture. At a time when the PMRC (that would be Parents Music Resource Center) was a growing threat in music, Frank was one of the few that stood up and spoke out against censorship of any kind. It is down to his tireless efforts, at least in part, that we still are able to enjoy a fundamentally free view of the popular music landscape.
For that, if for no other reason, I will always love Frank Zappa.
I leave you now with one final video, and the text of a warning sticker which appeared on each and every Frank Zappa release since the threat of the PMRC became real:
WARNING/GUARANTEE: This album contains material which a truly free society would neither fear nor suppress.
In some socially retarded areas, religious fanatics and ultra-conservative political organizations violate your First Ammendment Rights by attempting to censor rock & roll albums. We feel that this is un-Constitutional and un-American.
As an alternative to these government-supported programs (designed to keep you docile and ignorant). Barking Pumpkin is pleased to provide stimulating digital audio entertainment for those of you who have outgrown the ordinary.
The language and concepts contained herein are GUARANTEED NOT TO CAUSE ETERNAL TORMENT IN THE PLACE WHERE THE GUY WITH THE HORNS AND POINTED STICK CONDUCTS HIS BUSINESS.
This guarantee is as real as the threats of the video fundamentalists who use attacks on rock music in their attempt to transform America into a nation of check-mailing nincompoops (in the name of Jesus Christ). If there is a hell, its fires wait for them, not us.
We're Turning Again
The new and (hopefully) improved Aardvark's Aattic will be launching soon. In the meantime, I thought it would be fun to resurrect a little project that I at one time did for my friend Stefan over at his excellent Freedomain Radio site.
I'd like to take you on a journey of my favorite bands, musicians and songs that helped to shape my musical milieu such as it is. If you are familiar with these artists, then it will be a good chance to revisit an old love. If you aren't, then give them a try. You just might find a new addition to your musical mosaic.
Let's start off near the end of the alphabet with my first subject, one Frank Vincent Zappa (December 21, 1940 - December 4, 1993). Zappa was, to my mind, a musical genius, dabbling as he did in rock, jazz, electronic and orchestral themes infusing each with a scathing sense of humour and flair. In his day Zappa was insanely prolific, with well over 100 releases to his credit. While alive Frank recorded every live show; when not on the road he recorded ceaselessly in the studio environment. So much so that his widow and current keeper of the Zappa Family Trust, Gail, is still able to release original, fully realized compositions and live recordings 18 years after the great man's death from prostate cancer.
Frank started his career with The Mother's Of Invention, and weren't they just all of that and more. Upon the Mother's disolusion, Zappa continued on. His musically demanding style naturally attracted like minded virtuoso players. During his time, Frank Zappa discovered currently day defacto musical giants such as;
Guitarist Steve Vai (David Lee Roth, Public Image Limited, Whitesnake, Alice Cooper, G3) who Zappa referred to as his "little Italian virtuoso". Vai was listed on Zappa recordings from that era as having played "stunt guitar" or "impossible guitar parts".
Drummer Vinnie Colaiuta (Gino Vannelli, Joni Mitchell, Megadeath, The Beach Boys, Leonard Cohen, Jeff beck, Sting)
Guitarist Adrian Belew (David Bowie, Talking Heads, The Tom Tom Club, King Crimson) who described his time with Frank Zappa as a "crash course" in music theroy, due in no small part to Zappa's rigorous rehearsals and often technically demanding music, and has commented "I went to the Frank Zappa School of Rock."
Trombonist Bruce Fowler (Captain Beefheart, Eric Clapton, Stan Ridgway (Wall of Voodoo vocalist))
Vocalists / Comedians Flo & Eddie (Mark Volman aka the Phlorescent Leech and Howard Kaylan aka Eddie) (The Turtles, T-Rex, Steely Dan, David Cassidy, Keith Moon, Bruce Springsteen, The Psychedilic Furs, Ramones, Duran Duran, Alice Cooper)
Drummer Chester Thompson (Weather Report, Genesis, Phil Collins, Steve Hackett)
I could go on and on. Suffice it to say that Zappa always endeavored to surround himself with players who would challenge him musically.
One of the first songs I remember hearing was Dancin' Fool from his Sheik Yerbouti release. My best friend at the time Bill played it for me. Here then is a version which Zappa performed on the show Saturday Night Live in October of 1978. I don't think I can introduce this any better than Frank himself did.
Tonight we'd like to do a song about an important social problem, Disco; it deals with lonely people with no natural rhythm impinging on each other in the darkness, it's called Dancin' Fool
Dancin' Fool
Of course, growing up a young Zappa neophite it wasn't to long until I heard of THE song; you know, the song that no one mentioned or talked about in polite society. That song was, of course, Dinah-Moe Humm. Check out the painfully young Adrain Belew on guitar and vocals.
I couldn't say where she was coming from, but I just met a lady named Dinah-Moe Humm...
Dinah-Moe Humm
One thing that has always amazed me about Frank Zappa is his ability to create a great song on just about any topic imaginable. Take this next song for example. For ten long years convicted felon Michael Kenyon cut a swath from Illinois to California, robbing and, more than just occasionally administering an enema to his female victims. This man became known as the Champaign Enema Bandit (named thus after his first known attack in Champaign Illinois), the Ski Mask Bandit and, as F.Z. famously immortalized him in song, The Illinois Enema Bandit.
Is that a song title or what?
Lookin' for some rustic teenage rump, that he just might wanna pump
The Illinois Enema Bandit
Like a lot of my original musical awakening, my best friend in high school was a big Frank Zappa fan. I remember listening to my first Frank Zappa album from start to finish at his folks place. That album was Zappa in New York
. The version of this next song, The Torture Never Stops on that LP blew me away. That and Titties and BeerA sinister little midget with a bucket and a mop where the blood goes down the drain
The Torture Never Stops
A highlight of many Frank Zappa live shows were the ad lib routines that followed a very basic format but took on the flavour of the current concert's city. Here is one such instance based loosely around a Frank Zappa call to Room Service.
Room Service
At the end of the day though, Frank was at his best when he was waging a full frontal assault on everyday sacred cows. If I might make a suggestion then please watch these next three videos one after the other, the way they were played live in concert on this particular tour. The first video, Dumb All Over calls into question the practice of oh so many people to blindly follow one particular religious dogma or another.
The second, a personal favorite of mine, Heavenly Bank Account skewers television evangelism right where it hurts. Last, but certainly not least, Suicide Chump ridicules, well, suicides.
Remember, there's a big difference between kneeling down and bending over...
Dumb All Over
Heavenly Bank Account
Suicide Chump
While I believe The Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame is, in many ways apocryphal, I'm sure that having contemporaries of yours speak sincerely and lovingly of your contribution to the vast cannon that is rock 'n' roll music must surely be gratifying. In that spirit, I feel pretty comfortable in the belief that Frank just loved this homage to his memory by non other than Lou Reed.
Just a pity that Frank's daughter Moon Zappa's acceptance speech was so forgettable...
Frank Zappa Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame Induction by Lou Reed
Check out Frank's testimony before congress on the topic of censorship and it's place (or non-place as the case may be) in popular culture. At a time when the PMRC (that would be Parents Music Resource Center) was a growing threat in music, Frank was one of the few that stood up and spoke out against censorship of any kind. It is down to his tireless efforts, at least in part, that we still are able to enjoy a fundamentally free view of the popular music landscape.
For that, if for no other reason, I will always love Frank Zappa.
I leave you now with one final video, and the text of a warning sticker which appeared on each and every Frank Zappa release since the threat of the PMRC became real:
WARNING/GUARANTEE: This album contains material which a truly free society would neither fear nor suppress.
In some socially retarded areas, religious fanatics and ultra-conservative political organizations violate your First Ammendment Rights by attempting to censor rock & roll albums. We feel that this is un-Constitutional and un-American.
As an alternative to these government-supported programs (designed to keep you docile and ignorant). Barking Pumpkin is pleased to provide stimulating digital audio entertainment for those of you who have outgrown the ordinary.
The language and concepts contained herein are GUARANTEED NOT TO CAUSE ETERNAL TORMENT IN THE PLACE WHERE THE GUY WITH THE HORNS AND POINTED STICK CONDUCTS HIS BUSINESS.
This guarantee is as real as the threats of the video fundamentalists who use attacks on rock music in their attempt to transform America into a nation of check-mailing nincompoops (in the name of Jesus Christ). If there is a hell, its fires wait for them, not us.
We're Turning Again
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