Frank Zappa 53: Ahead Of Their Time

Back in 1968, once the Mothers of Invention included trained individuals—or at least people who could read increasingly intricate music—Frank Zappa began introducing more complicated, almost classical pieces in the band’s sets. Some of this he called chamber music that he wrote himself, some were arrangements of Stravinsky and Zappa idol Edgard Varèse. Either to appeal to the less adept members of the band or with the excuse that audiences needed things dumbed down, silly skits involving scripts and in-jokes would accompany these performances.

Two such performances at London’s Festival Hall included contributions from an actual orchestra alongside the Mothers. Excerpts from the “dramatic” portion emerged in the ‘80s, and the visuals were included as part of the perennially incomplete Uncle Meat film (on VHS), but the shows appeared in more or less a complete form as Ahead Of Their Time.

Because the audio can’t adequately demonstrate the dramatic portion, the first half of the disc is an acquired taste. Much of the music would end up incorporated into “Bogus Pomp”, while the content detailing struggle between “serious music” and its opposite would recur in 200 Motels. Luckily, the guys sound into it, so it’s not too tedious.

The political rarity “Agency Man” is followed by the dramatic “Epilogue”, and the remainder of the disc is pretty much non-stop Mothers rock ‘n roll. “King Kong” eventually segues into “Help, I’m A Rock” and “Transylvania Boogie”, “Pound For A Brown” begets “Sleeping In A Jar”, and the “Orange County Lumber Truck” suite is heard nearly complete, and more than the excerpt already used on Weasels Ripped My Flesh. Being abridged to fit on a single disc, it’s a shame that to date the album hasn’t been expanded to provide at least the equivalent of a full set.

Nearly thirty years went by before the era was revisited. The inaugural release of the Road Tapes series presented a concert in a Vancouver hockey arena (a.k.a. “the local electric icebox”) two months before the Festival Hall show. Obviously there’s no play to perform, so they start right in with improvisations; others dot the setlist. Along with material also heard at the London show, this performance includes a piece introduced as “Shortly” and said to be released on an upcoming album; the music is better known now as “Holiday In Berlin”, and said album was reduced to two records from three, and without this piece. Other highlights include the first album appearance of the doo-wop parody “Oh, In The Sky” and their arrangement of “Octandre” by Varèse. Thanks to some apparently exhaustive restoration work by Vaultmeister Joe Travers, the mono sound is excellent.

A little over a decade later, another relic from the era emerged. Whisky A Go Go, 1968 was recorded about a month before the Vancouver gig, and just before Ray Collins quit the band for the fourth and last time. The reason for this lengthy occasion was the intention of getting decent live performances from the nine-piece band on tape for future purposes that didn’t exactly develop.

A ten-minute improvisation leads perversely into “America Drinks And Goes Home”. Self-styled impresario (and accused sexual predator) Kim Fowley is brought up help shriek his way through “My Boyfriend’s Back”, followed by the original response of “[I’m Gonna] Bust His Head” and a lengthy “Tiny Sick Tears Jam”. Another improvisation goes into “Status Back Baby”, followed by some doo-wop, original and otherwise. “King Kong” is indexed as two parts, the second of which stops halfway through so the GTO’s [sic] can yell along with “Getting To Know You” and the Bugs Bunny Show theme. (Other guests on the evening included affiliated acts Alice Cooper and Wild Man Fischer; some of the Turtles were supposedly in the audience in a bit of foreshadowing.)

“The Duke” is played twice so they could get a decent usable take; this would eventually form part of “The Little House I Used To Live In”, but here’s it’s mostly Frank soloing over drums. Then there’s “Khaki Sack”, a more structured R&B jam that would be properly recorded in 1970 and shelved for half a century. “The Whip” and “Whisky Chouflée” run together for twenty minutes of mostly one-chord jamming, and the “world premiere” of “Brown Shoes Don’t Make It” for the first time on stage leads into an extended shuffle on the main theme and further improvisation.

In the end, only one segment from the evening was released at the time (“God Bless America” on Uncle Meat), though at least two other songs were mixed by Frank; one snippet made it to YCDTOSA #5, and more finally emerged on 2021’s Zappa documentary soundtrack. As the first full-length concert made available with Ray singing (save a few Beat The Boots), it’s about time.

Zappa/Mothers Ahead Of Their Time (1993)—3
Frank Zappa Road Tapes, Venue #1 (2012)—3½
Frank Zappa & The Mothers Of Invention Whisky A Go Go, 1968 (2024)—3

Rickie Lee Jones 5: Flying Cowboys

After a long break, during which she got married, and started a family, Rickie Lee Jones returned to public consciousness in early 1989 with a duet with Dr. John on “Makin’ Whoopee”, which went on to win a Grammy. It was a good setup for her next album. Flying Cowboys was notable for being her first album in five years, and also for production work by Steely Dan’s Walter Becker, who’d been off the radar for even longer.

“The Horses” sets the mood right away, and if it’s not a love song to her newborn daughter it works as one anyway, just as “Just My Baby” is a joyful celebration of the first twinges of excitement of new love. “Ghetto Of My Mind” celebrates a similar joie de something, and she’s playing the steel drum amidst all the other island-inspired sounds. “Rodeo Girl” is even more striking when you realize she’s singing and playing everything except the programmed drums. “Satellites” is the catchiest track, and the obvious single, as well as a stark contrast to the talking blues character in “Ghost Train”.

The title track is a collaboration with not just her husband but her old partner Sal Bernardi, who plays the infectious riff and harmonizes with her when she’s not speaking the words. Her cover of Gerry & The Pacemakers’ “Don’t Let The Sun Catch You Crying” obviously comes from a place of affection, but the processed arrangement doesn’t do it any favors. Similarly, “Love’s Gonna Bring Us Back Alive” sounds like the type of reggae groove that would bring Bonnie Raitt platinum albums soon enough. “Away From The Sky” finally brings the tender pretty one this album has needed, and “Atlas’ Marker” is as inscrutable as any of her lyrics, here colored by then-trendy rainforest percussion.

Flying Cowboys is a microcosm of VH-1 adult contemporary in the late ‘80s. This was a sound she’d always had, using many of the players she’d relied on before, but people looking for grit may be disappointed not to find it. (Footnote: To promote the album overseas, she appeared on a British TV show to perform not only the album’s title song but duet with the Blue Nile on their “Easter Parade”, both with Sal in tow.)

Rickie Lee Jones Flying Cowboys (1989)—3

Tears For Fears 8: Everybody Loves A Happy Ending

Come the 21st century, Tears For Fears had become something of a relic of an earlier time. Curt Smith laid low for a while, eventually releasing two solo albums—one under the nom de plume Mayfield and the other as himself. Roland Orzabal emerged after a quiet spell with Tomcats Screaming Outside, a strange techno concoction wisely not credited to Tears For Fears.

But the boys managed to patch things up as well as record an album together, once again having to wait until label shenanigans were worked out. Everybody Loves A Happy Ending loads up on the psychedelia from where they left off with a lot more sexy soul, truly enjoying the potential of the studio. The Beatles remain a touchstone; we counted at least two samples of the “Day In The Life” orchestral buildup throughout the album. In addition to the dynamic duo, Charlton Pettus is a main collaborator, having already worked with Curt on his solo projects.

The title track emerges like a spaceship appearing over the horizon, then an alarm clock rings and the song becomes an XTC pastiche (a redundant statement to be sure). About halfway through there’s another mood shift to a completely different vibe—a hallmark of the album as a whole. “Closest Thing To Heaven” is even closer to “Sowing The Seeds Of Love”, right up to the backwards drum fill, but gosh, what a hook. A 12-string jangle drives the chamber-pop touches of “Call Me Mellow”—wherein they didn’t realize they took the melody from “There She Goes”—and things finally slow down for the lightweight “Size Of Sorrow”. No points for guessing whence they copped the drum pattern for “Who Killed Tangerine?”, another song where the choruses don’t match the verses. They finally sound almost contemporary, or at least less retro, on “Quiet Ones”, which is pretty straightforward pop and not at all complicated.

We hear a little Brian Wilson in the melodies of the lyrically sparse but still catchy “Who You Are”, which just soars until the processed closing reprise of the title track. It’s a strange transition to the unsettling effects throughout “The Devil”, a brooding number that gets a lift from the guitar before winding to a halt. They save all their tricks for the glorious “Secret World”, with its Paul Buckmaster arrangement (before Ben Folds hired him); the studio applause at the end is justified. “Killing With Kindness” juxtaposes slow and faster sections, a battle of psychedelic grooves that don’t always gel. “Ladybird” recalls some of the textures of the last album before maneuvering through tricky time signatures, and “Last Days On Earth” takes us out with trippy soul; both tracks recall Seal, in a good way.

At 12 tracks and just under an hour, Everybody Loves A Happy Ending is a very dense album, with a lot of style but none of the overbearing substance that marked their earliest work. For one thing, they’re twice as old as they used to be. It’s the sound of people enjoying making records, and for fans of the duo, it was just nice to hear them playing together again.

Tears For Fears Everybody Loves A Happy Ending (2004)—3

Eric Clapton 1: Blues Breakers

John Mayall was responsible for launching the careers of countless blues guitarists and bands, mostly because the people he found kept taking off on him and forming other outfits. He himself wasn’t blessed with the best voice, but made up for it with his organ and harmonica playing, and gave his sidemen room to shine. Blues Breakers was his second album, on which he gave co-billing in the same size type to the lead guitarist who’d bolted from the Yardbirds for being too poppy.

This is a solid electric blues album, wherein Eric Clapton displays his prowess and tone on a Les Paul, and a good argument that the Brits played it better than any other imitators. And they weren’t stuck in the past, either; through this album disciples were turned on to the likes of Otis Rush, Freddie King, Memphis Slim, and Little Walter. Respectively, “All Your Love”, “Hideaway”, “Steppin’ Out”, and “It Ain’t Right” were only a few years old at the time. “Parchman Farm” is based on Mose Allison’s arrangement, and features no guitar we can discern. Ray Charles’ “What’d I Say” is mostly a setup for a Hughie Flint drum solo; when the band comes back in, Clapton quotes “Day Tripper”. The kid also takes his first lead vocal on Robert Johnson’s “Ramblin’ On My Mind”.

Of the originals, “Little Girl” is tight and tense, while “Another Man” recycles older lyrics as Mayall’s own (tsk tsk) for a harmonica showcase. “Double Crossing Time” is a Mayall-Clapton cowrite, providing a slower change of pace, just as “Have You Heard” does on the other side. That one’s got a prominent saxophone; “Key To Love” uses a horn section well in the mix too. (That bass player, by the way, is the perennially unsung John McVie.)

When it first came out on CD, the only extra content was the now-famous photo of graffiti with canine commentary. An eventual remaster added a one-off duet single and its B-side, while the eventual Deluxe Edition put the mono and (later) stereo mixes on one disc, with a variety of BBC sessions and previously scattered live tracks, some of which have Jack Bruce on bass. But the original 12-track lineup will be enough to show why some thought Clapton was God.

John Mayall With Eric Clapton Blues Breakers (1966)—4
2001 remastered CD: same as 1966, plus 2 extra tracks
2009 Deluxe Edition: same as 2001, plus 29 extra tracks