By Felix Dennis
FRANK ZAPPA (Warner Raprise)
A review by A.J. Wabberman Jnr. 'The world's only living Zappaologist'.
My old man's become something of a celebrity these days. Seems like everytime I turn on T.V. or open an underground paper, there's 'pops', laying down his boring shit about that creepy, washed up country singer. Y'know, the one with the cricked back and dude shades. Bob Dylan... who needs him?? Listen freaks, there is only ONE band, and really only ONE musician you
need to f.y.r. (= feed your head) about. He can squeeze your lemon, cure your acne and show you
how to make a million bucks without hardly trying. FRANK ZAPFA!
No wonder Z's 'yawning' on the front sleeve of this, his tenth album, (tenth .. g.t.s.?? = get the
significance), released to date, excluding, of course, the rare basement tape bootleg, Cunt-Bred
Canary, recorded in a psychedelic dungeon (i.e. the Albert Hall) last August. This 'yawning’ is
symbolic of his c.c. (= current condition), i.e. "The man who knows, says little" (ancient Chinese proverb). Z knows so much, he is absolutely too bored to say anything at all! He can only 'yawn'... But, hot zitz, I'm jumping the story.
For the past eight years, (ever since I was four years old), I have dedicated my life to becoming an expert on 'the little pimp with the hair gassed back'... i.e. to becoming the worlds foremost only living Zappaologist. Couple of moths back, for instance, I used my entire July allowance on hiring a private detective, Alert Mangross, to feed and fetch me background on Z's personal and private life. The following is part of his report, recorded a few weeks ago during a visit to A.M. at the asylum.
"... after following my client's advice and disguising myself as a female member of the "G.T.O.'s", (whom I later discovered to be a subversive group of transvestites and nymphomaniacs
"Various longhaired, bearded young people, of both sexes, wandered and lounged aimlessly naked among the tropical plants and closed circuit colour televisions, showing endless images of the most disgusting and lewd kind
Unfortunately for A.M. he didn't leave quite fast enough. The last thing he remembers is being strapped by live electrodes to a kitchen table (k.t. = earth g.t.s.?) while four flower children fed him wriggling pyrannah fish (eaten from the inside g.t.s.?) and a member of the p.c.'s (= plaster casters) poured molten bronze over his erect appendage. A copy of the resulting sculpture is currently being exhibited at the N.Y.M. of M.A. (= New York Museum of Modern Art) and both MGM and Columbia are reportedly bidding for the film rights based on the video playback of Alb's entire visit. (Naturally I had informed Z several hours in advance of A.M's arrival.)
This incident, bizarre as it may seem, bears directly on, and is in complete accordance with, Chunga's Revenge. The i.s. (= inner significance) of the role played by Mangross, the selection of the 'yawning' photograph, the wah-wah of Ian Underwood's electric alto sax and the absolute give/away title of track two, side two, 'Would You Go All The Way' (my italics), can only add up to one thing. That is, as far as C.R. (= Chunga's Revenge) is concerned, y.f.i.a.g.a.m.(= your fucking guess is as good as mine). f.y.h. on that, Suckers!!!
Read by OCR software. If you spot errors, let me know afka (at) afka.net