Sic Semper Tyrannis

Frank Zappa

As I tried to make clear at the beginning of this blog, I am interested in perspective-changing aesthetic encounters. And today I shall relate to you the story of my discovery of one of the top two or three musical influencers in my life. This is not a tale of a mere album that I thought was cool. This is the story of my introduction to the music of a guy who seemed to take my experience as a high school senior and make it something more than just a humdrum existence. I will now tell you about one of my real musical heroes-Frank Zappa.

To tell you the truth, I was attracted to Frank before I heard a note of his music. He would always be mentioned in guitar magazines as an outsider genius and I always thought he looked like a rock n’ roll mad scientist-shaggy long hair and his trademark “Imperial” goatee. (Mustache and little patch below the bottom lip. Just like one might see in, oh, I don’t know, my senior photo and prom pictures!) I had read up on Zappa. He always sounded really smart in interviews. I liked that. I liked my rock served up with a little intellect. He was a guitar player like me, but he also considered himself a composer, not just a “rock musician.” I found that interesting. Composers, to me, were dead English and German guys from the 1700s in wigs. And even though his music had the reputation of being weird because he was on drugs, it was just the opposite. Frank was anti-drugs and thought that drug-users were stupid people. As I struggled to figure out why I lived such a naïve existence compared to the STUCO kids and cool kids and pothead kids, this was a guy I could really support. And Frank had a very aloof attitude toward fame, criticism, and the music business. He came across as very secure and uncompromising in his musical vision. Anyway, all of this musical integrity fascinated me, to say the least.

And then there was the music. Oh, my God, the music! The fist Zappa album I bought was called Weasels Ripped My Flesh. The cover was a Ward Cleaver-looking cartoon guy shaving with a weasel. At first listen, I didn’t know what to make of the noise coming out of my headphones. The first song was called “Didja Get Any Onja?” and it sounded like a bunch of savages that had just come across a box of rock n’ roll instruments just washed upon the shore. That album contained just the strangest mixture of music-noise I believe I’ve ever heard. Everything from hyper-organized rock-classical music to blues-based dirty rock to musique concrete a la Lennon’s “Revolution 9.” The last track was the sound of a mic’d vacuum cleaner performance from the end of a concert. Amongst all the madness, there were a couple clean and beautiful moments, but overall, this album was…”challenging,” to say the least. (I later figured out, after hearing several other Zappa albums, that Weasels was one of the most challenging.)

But I gave it all the benefit of the doubt and I still haven’t totally figured it all out. But the one moment that totally blew my mind was the second half of the song “Toads of the Short Forest,” taken from a live recording where Frank says “At this moment on stage, drummer A is playing in 7/8, drummer B is playing in ¾, the bass is playing in ¾, the organ is playing in 5/8 and the saxophone is blowing his nose” -or something to that effect. And the idea of a band playing in different time signatures at once was a world-shattering idea. And that’s what killed me, this wild guy creating what sounded like audible chaos, but what turned out to be organized chaos- a method to the madness. This was my first foray into the avant-garde of rock and I thought that it was sheer genius.

It was brave music with no regard for commerce, or marketing, or developing an audience or any of the trappings of the music industry. This was the sound of a guy creating whatever he wanted to and daring people to like it or to take the time to try to figure it out. Something about that boldness impressed and inspired me. Like I said, this Zappa entry is about much more than a mere album. Discovering his confidence in who he was helped me to learn about individualism-finding your own voice, not just creatively, but personally as well. A fierce individualism like his could serve someone well when they don’t feel like they fit in. I swallowed Zappa’s music like a comforting medicine. In my head, at least, someone else knew what it was like. And rather than feel bad about being uncool, or depressed, I could be confident in my uncoolness, bolstered by this artist who used his intellect as a weapon. I wanted to be that guy. (Although I never became that guy, Zappa certainly made it easier to deal with myself and with other people.)

posted by Mike @ 3:44 PM