"Its All Just A Matter Of Taste"
An Impolite Interview With Frank Zappa
By Rob Fixmer
International Times, 19 April 1993
Even before neccessity, there was Frank Zappa, the true Mother of Invention. Always outrageous both musically and verbally, Zappa's bizarre and brilliant mind has produced such Zeit-geist classics as "Call Any Vegetable" and "Willie the Pimp". His latest venture is the simultaneous release of five albums. called "Lather", scheduled to hit record stores sometime this week. On thursday, October 20, Zappa and the Mothers will wreak musical havoc on the Music Hall in Boston. Along with ticket costs, admission of course includes, the price of your mind.
I caught part of a radio interview with you the other night. From the description of your reception in Yugoslavia a couple of years ago, I got visions of Centerville.from 200 Motels. You know, with the images of the barbed wire fences and all.
Yea, there was a hint of that there. Quite a bit of the time we were just following orders. Even in the dressing room. The guy who was the maitre d' wouldn't let us order anything. It was really hard to get anything good to eat.
They poo-poo the idea of that being an Iron Curtain country. They don't approve of the term. I suppose because they are the most liberal of all the "Bloc" countries.
Because of Uncle Tito?
Yea, and when they show you around you'd think they'd just discovered the wheel. And they haven't really quite come around yet, so you see these people – not horses, but people – dragging these wagons with the big wooden wheels. Ladies with the babushkas on their heads, big coats and monster shawls, pulling wagons with twigs that they are going to burn in their fire place, I guess.
You know, when you talk about Yugoslavia in that way you might be walking on thin ice because I don't know how you would classify yourself, but ever since Freak Out I've considered you to be a satirist. Sometimes there's a fine line between satire and elitism. I'm wondering if you're becoming more elitist not only in your own art, but about the culture that spawned it. So when you start talking about Yugoslavia in that way ...
Would you mind explaining "the culture that spawned my art?"
Well, lets go hack to "Go Cry On Somebody Else's Shoulder." You're obviously making fun of rock and roll, aren't you?
No. Not necessarily.
This has always confused me about your music. I don't remember if it was John Landau or whoever, but I remember reading a critic once who slated that you were a person who could never decide whether you wanted to play rock and roll or make fun of it. That's the impression I've had myself. That song stands out on Freak Out to me because the other songs are so obviously cynical. But in that song the melody line, the lyrics – except for the root beer stand part – display an empathy for rock which gave me the impression you were being more serious about that one song on the album.
O.K. explain to me what you were doing on the album.
On the Freak Out album? All the songs were serious. All the songs were as ugly as possible to be serious and humorous at the same time. I think you can seriously have a good time about anything that you want to do.
You know, the problem with Jon Landau and all the rest of these rock and roll writers is that they're so immensely full of shit. They have no sense of humour, never did, and never will. You couple this with the fact that they don't have any balls, have no interest in lust, have no knowledge of music in a general sense, have no idea of what musical history is all about, have no concept of craftsmanship, integrity, or anything really artistic, and are doing that – 'writing,' shall we call it? – for a living. Those guys are so fucked that I should be so lucky that they should write something about me like that I can't decide whether or not I want to be serious, or like I want to be like this? Like I always have to choose.
Think about that. And don't forget the syntax and verbal emphasis.
I'll do my best. Okar, well, let's back up for a second. I don't give a damn about Jon Landau. I don't even know if he was the guy who made the remark that touched this whole thing off. I didn't come here to talk about Jon Landau.
But you did. And you brought it up in such a way as to indicate that there was some kernel of truth in what Jon Landau said.
Not truth necessarily, but a kernel somelhing which I myself have felt about your music.
You mean that you confess to, deep down, having something in common with Jon Landau? I'm telling you, you have potential, because you can talk and wear a coat.
What's this "talk and wear a coat" shit?
It's just the problem of doing anything with a coat on. I used to try playing guitar with a coat on, like on a sound check when it was cold. I didn't like it and eventually I came to distrust anyone who talked with a coat on. Landau's probably like that too. He probably types with a coat on.
So I'll take my coat off.
When did you record Freak Out? I was a little seminary boy, you see, and I was cloistered until '66 .
In '65.
And you did nout consider what you were doing in '65 as satirizing rock and roll?
Now wait a minute. What does satire mean?
Well, I don't mean that you were doing a Mencken or Twain trip exactly, but I do think that you were making candid fun of certain aspects of rock and roll.
Nah! What's this "making fun?" If a thing is not funny to begin with, do you make fun of it for somebody?
Well, let's start with the assumption that rock and roll is fun.
Is it?
To me it's fun.
OK, now is this you as a writer, or as you as a musician, or you as a listener?
I'm just trying to find out which person is talking. Are you a listener, a writer, or a musician? Because rock and roll is something different to each of those three kinds of people.
Well. I function at all three levels, or at least try to, and that may be why I'm not particularly good at any one of them, but I'm not able to separate my appreciation of music in to different aspects of my personality. Rock and roll is fun, but what you did was exaggerated. You took all the things that were preposterous about rock, and all the funny little quirks, and exaggerated them. You know, "I met her at the root beer stand. I thought she was sharp, she was really so grand." It was how many years before American Graffiti and "Happy Days" did the same thing? But they make no pretense about making fun of the period, while you don't seem to want to admit that you were doing it.
No, I just wanted you to make sure you understand what your terminology is, because eventually you're going to have to get back around to explaining what you're talking about in the realm of elitism and this "culture that spawned my art." I'm still waiting for that.
OK, to me the art of' American rock and roll is a Black art form which was – and I want to be careful here – vulgarized by the recording industry. I don't mean that in the sense of'an abuse of electronics. I just mean that commercialism came into it when White covers started coming into Black rock. These White cover artists began to almost make fun of the idiom they're working within. And you in turn were making fun of the cover artists. You weren't making fun of people like Little Richard or Screamin' Jay Hawkins. You were making fun of ...
Gale Storm and Pat Boone.
Yea, and some of the shoo-bop stuff, the do-do-do-do.
I wasn't making fun of do-do-do-do. I love that! That's the real shit, there. I mean, you can't make that any funnier than it already is. Don't you understand? All you have to do is listen to a record called "Can I Come Over Tonight" by the Velours and you'll understand what I mean: you can't make it any funnier than what it already is. If you could hear it you would know that it's already "too good."
So are you laughing at it.
No. I'm just going right along with it. I'm saying that the people who were an audience for that album in 1965 and '66 knew nothing of that kind of music. Had never heard it. There were no fifties revival. The fifties stuff had been gone for what? Ten years?They didn't know. They'd never heard do-do-do-do for real. Nor had they heard Stravinsky, nor any of the other musical references which were in that album. And if you recall, the album contained a list of all the musical references which were contained therin.
Including Tiny Tim, as I recall.
Yes, approximately five years before he attained any fame.
As a matter of fact, when I first read the album cover, I though it was a cryptic reference to the Dickens character.
What about Ravi Shankar?
I don't remember seeing his name there, but I didn't memorize the list.
Not only did we list him, but his drummer's name.
Well, it was a long time ago, but I do remember Tiny Tim's name, and the mention of the fact that someone was trying to repossess Jimmy Carl Black's drums, which hit close to home because someone was trying to repossess mine at the same time.
Was it the Laurentide Finance Company? The idea of some guy sitting there and saying "We're a multi-milion dollar operation, and we can raise havoc with you" ... you know, saying that to Jimmy Carl Black, was just too good to miss.
People like Roy Estrada, Flo and Eddy, Aynsley Dunbar, Ian Underwood, people who have made it on your reputation and through your influence – and all right, Aynsley had a good thing going before he went with you, and the Turtles were pretty popular, but none of them had ever drawn the artistic respect that they eventually gained until they worked with you – but why do all these people always split?
It's very easy to explain. You see, I have no contracts with anyone. They can come and go as they please. Roy Estrada is back in the band. Some of the people have been in and out five times. Roy Collins was. Jeff Simmons, about three times.
Jimmy Carl Black left and came back, didn't he?
Well, he worked with Beefheart for a while.
Beefheart's, another one. What was the whole thing about you and Beefheart and some audition with you? From what I gathered, you auditioned him and he couldn't cut it.
That's right. He called me up a couple of years ago and apologized for being an asshole for five or six years. Said he was really depressed and asked for an audition. I said ok come on down. He was living in Northern Cal at the time so I invited him down. He was really just looking for something to do. His band had just broken up, you know, and he was feeling lousy and wanted to go out with us. So I said if he could cut it, but he'd have to audition like everybody else. He came down to the hall, couldn't carry a tune, couldn't keep time, just couldn't get it. Some people have absolutely no natural rhythm. He's one of them.
Well then, how did you and he manage to cop things like "Willie the Pimp"?
Oh my goodness. Do you know anything about a recording studio?
I've spent some time in studios.
Well, then you know that you can start and stop and do things over again until you get them right, and you can punch in and ...
Sure, but there was a very natural sounding rhythm to it. It was a good product.
I'm a good producer. Have you heard the Ruben and the Jets album?
Yes, but I don't think that's a very good production.
You didn't like it?
No.
How do feel about the vocals on there? Do they sound like real performances?
I don't recall what I thought about the vocals because I was upset ahout the fact that it didn't have the punch to it, and wasn't as ballsy as your other stuff. I also didn't like One Size Fits All. It was the only one of your albums I reallly ever panned, and although I liked some parts of it, I got lost in it. You lost me and you had never done that before.
My fault, eh?
Absolutely. Definitely your fault.
I lost you, eh? Shitereeee!
I'll send you a plaque commemorating the event. In "Inca Roads" were you making fun of (author of Chariot of the Gods) Von Daniken?
Of course, of course. No seriously. I'll tell you what "Inca Roads" was about. It was an instrumental melody which existed for three years before I tried to write words to it. The melody covers more than two octaves. It's very difficult to sing, and I wrote words to it one day. That's why the actual history of the song is all about. I thought it was quite an accomplishment. And it was written before Von Daniken.
Unfortunately it didn't come out until after the Von Daniken book.
Yes, it had already been corrupted by the time that it came out. All this stuff was considered commercial.
I didn't mean to imply that it was commercial but either way, I didn like the lyrics, and I was wondering what the purpose of the song was. If the melody was capable of standing by itself, why not just release it as an instrumental? You did that with other pieces such as "Peaches en Regalia."
"Peaches en Regalia" is the only one I've never really been able to write words for. I've tried, but I can't come up with a set of lyrics which will work with it. The trouble when it comes to writing lyrics depends on where you're sitting and the size of your challenge; whether you're going for intelligibility or going for a phonic sense that matches the line. The only way that I can judge my words is by whether I achieve what I set out to do with the thing. I thought I had really done myself an anagram by the time I got done putting words to that instrumental tune. If you saw that tune on a piece of paper and somebody handed it to you in a music class and said "write lyrics to this" you'd be hardpressed to do it. One syllable per eighth note. You can't change the melody. That's the game.
Ah, the game, eh? Is" Dinah Moe Humm" one of your phonetic exercises?
Yea.
"Chrome Dinette?"
No, that's not.
That was the one that just lost me.
Just couldn't handle it, huh? That's a golden piece of music.
Melodically? Harmonically?
And the words.
Would you condescend to explain the thing, or is that asking too much?
No, certainly. First of all, the cover is what that song is all about, and it's part of the conceptual continuity of the story of "Billy and the Mountain." But you had no way of knowing that.
No, I didn't, and neither did anyone else.
But these things are revealed later.
Where?
See, that's the way continuity runs. Well, say three albums from now you'll find out that all that stuff fits together, and while you're sitting there in your little room going "Wow, this one's for shit!" you'll suddenly say "Hey wait a minute." But that's only for people who actually go back and listen. Most of the people who write about myself, " Ha, ya this doesn't matter and that is irrelevant and none of it is serious." But it don't work that way, because nobody has the budget in terms of either money or time to sit down end listen to one complete idea that I have. They couldn't sit through it.
What about 200 Motels?
That is not all there is to the movie. No, as a matter of fact, 200 Motels is still coming true. If you go back and see it again, you'll find there are some things in there that at the time it was released hadn't happened yet. They're still happening. I wouldn't doubt that the movie isn't over yet.
Are you going to do further cinema work on it?
The thing that needs to come out is the documentary which was shot while we were making it. At the point where that material is made available to the public and they can watch that and 200 Motels at the same time, people who thought they knew what they saw before are going to be in a lot of trouble.
I'll have to take your word for it, I guess.
Please do, because I'm not lying to you. There's a lot more to it than meets the eye or the ear.
What kind of documentary are you talking about?
Well, the Dutch television company sent a crew up there to film us in 16mm while we were shooting, and I have all the footage. We have interviews with various members of the cast, asking them all kinds of questions that I wasn't in on. It was all done completely and independently of my knowledge. When you see Mark and Howard (Volman and Kaylan) in the interview, and when you hear the things they have to say about the film and about the group, and find out how they talked and what kind of people they are in real life, and watch them against what's happening in the movie, and see Jimmy Carl Black talking about his role in the film, Motorhead, Don Preston, and just watch how this is all connected, and see what 200 Motels is in terms of a documentary of the most advanced nature; by taking the actual facts – statistical facts – he is this; he said that; he did this; he will do this; he has done that; later on he won't even know he's d one this over here; – and they're all that way in the film – you take the facts, and then transmogrify that into a musical event with opical effects that have to pay for the day, and you stick it all together in one package, and that's what 200 Motels is. Now, because the elite corps of rock and roll journalism who wound up suddenly being film critics – and those were the ones who panned 200 Motels, because the largest number of reviews of the film were favorable, but the people who were the audience for the film – the kids – don't see film criticism in the papers they read. Most of the things they read about 200 Motels said "Well, that's not quite hip enough for us here at Rolling Stone." That sort of shit. And so the overall lasting print of what was written about 200 Motels was negative. But that's not really important because we have most of the reviews which came out world-wide, and I would say 2/3 of them were favorable.
That's interesting, because my wife and I were commenting earlier today on the fact that we had never met anyone who had not liked the film.
You obviously consider yourself to be some sort of scholar on my work ...
No, I don't.
Well, you have some opinions about it, which is different from that last guy I was talking to who was almost down to asking me what the name of the group was. You know a little something about something. But you come to one album, which you say is the only one you panned, and follow that up by saying that you couldn't follow it. You had trouble with it. Do you really think it's an intelligent conclusion for you to assume that I lost you? Now, wouldn't you rather ...
Yes I do, and I'll tell you why. You see, you just got through admitting to me that there are things about that album that I don't know because I had no way of knowing them. Therefore, you did lose me. You chose to be enigmatic in certain ways. You chose to put in a clue here and a clue there, and the fact that I didn't pick up on it is not my fault.
No, that's not the way it works. First of all, they aren't clues; they're part of a whole. Second of all, on their own they exist as entities that are unworthy not only of consideration but edification. Especially in the instance of "Sofa Number 2" and those lyrics because that's a fine piece of poetry. Now whether it had anything to do with the cover art or with "Billy the Mountain," I think that particular song is a wonderful song. Let me tell you the story of that song.
First of all, it was written in English. Then it was translated into German. I got a transscript of the phonetic pronunciation of the German lyrics, and the music was written around the German pronunciation. It's the first time I've ever tried to do that. It was considered to be quite an achievement in the German press, because many German groups won't sing in German because they don't think they can do rock and roll in German. We went over there on a tour with Mark and Howard and went on performing that as part of our show. They were surprised that an American group would want to make up a song – and we actually had a whole section of our show that was done in – German.
OK, so what does it have to do with "Billy the Mountain"?
Well, did you ever wonder where Billy the Mountain came from?
No, I can't say that I did. I just accepted old Billy at face value.
And you didn't ever wonder about Billy's childhood or how he got there in the first place?
No.
Well, I did.
Are you speaking geologically or something?
No. I'm talking about, you know, here's a mountain that can talk and he's got a tree for a wife. Now, where the fuck do they come from? I mean, he's got to have some kind of background. Well, where he comes from is, a long time ago when there was nothing in the universe except blackness and his floating sofa, God explained to the sofa while holding a cigar, speaking German, and with a Pachucal cross between his thumb and his first finger, looking at the sofa, and he's trying to explain to the sofa where he's at and where he's coming from, and making sure the sofa understands his or her or its particular place in this cosmos that he's constructed. He gets the sofa organized, see. And then he orders boards of oak throughout the emptiness to support the sofa, and then he calls for his girlfriend.
God's girlfriend?
That's right. The Short Girl, he calls her. So Short Girl and Squat, the magic pig, are both there, and he makes a home movie with the girl fucking the pig, and sends it to a lab that he knows. And she sings a song to the pig, and he sings a song to the girl. The next thing you know, this guy named Old Zircon, a phased out Byzantine devil, his body covered with old musical instruments ...
Excuse me, but what's the significance of Zircon? I mean, you use the term "zircon encrusted tweezers" in one of your songs. What is Zircon, if you'll forgive my ignorance.
A zircon is a fake, cheap diamond. Now you have to understand that things which are cheap are wonderful, and nothing could be more wonderful than a zircon ring with a stone this large (2 inches in diameter) for the person who wanted to simulate the Fat's Domino look. You know, to keep on his little finger. Now this is a phenomenon, that I've known about for 23 years. People who wear zircons are a special breed.
So anyway, Old Zircon, the phased-out Byzantine devil appears on the side, and he's got a plan. Because after God makes the movie and sends it to the lab, he sends these cherubs to pick up the package. So they fly off to the lab while he's lying down on the sofa. He's having a sleep and dreaming a great dream. Well. Old Zircon appears in this dream and he walks out of the cave and his cloven hooves hit the rocks, causing sparks to shoot out, igniting all the adjacent moss. And these flames come up. And smoke comes up from the flames. And he beats his magic drum and blows his magic trumpet, and strums his little guitar. The sound waves of all these instruments being manipulated at the same time cause the smoke to form into several large, new lumpy mountains, one of which can talk. That's where Billy comes from. Now what you don't know is that Ethel the Tree is under the control of Old Zircon who has this special flashlight that controls her thoughts and she's operating Billy. So this is all working in the background. Just like a Wagnerian opera, who can sit through it? You know? And when you're trying to get the proper level on a 33 1/3 disc if you go over 18 minutes per side you're in trouble. And when you talk about musical ideas that take hours to spin out, you can't get it on a record. So a lot of the things that I'm talking about happen over a series of albums, because you're only putting out one every four months at the most.
And with different bands.
Yea.
OK, but when will you start connecting them?
Well, to me they're always connected.
Sure, to you they're always connected, but to the rest of us, all we're getting are bits and pieces.
Look at it this way: The rest of you don't care. So what the fuck's the difference? I think a song like "Sofa" is fine the way it is, whether you know about the novel or not. I'm just telling you that there's more to it than meets the eye or the ear. And that's the way it is with all the compositions that are on the album. They're connected, they're done in mysterious ways. But they exist on their own as sound events and can be appreciated just like that. Now, it baffles me that a person could listen to One Size Fits All, which I think is an excellent album, and get to that song and say "It loses me." First of all, it has got a nice little tune. Second of all, the production on it is good. Third of all, I think the words are great, and especially funny if you think of them in the context of the rest of what's going on. But that a side ...
Yes, but what you just pushed aside there is damned important.
It's only important only if you want to really be into the total thing, but I'm looking at it from a normal rock and roll record buyer's point of view. Can he tap his foot to it? Sure! Why not? Just because you got three beats in every bar doesn't mean you're gonna get your foot tangled up.
OK, as far as the rhythmic, melodic and harmonic structure is concerned, I won't argue with you. But if you really are putting together what I guess would amount to a mythology, why are you wasting your time on unrelated material? For instance, I happen to really enjoy "Montana," but it obviously has nothing to do with the story you've just told me.
Because it's not time to complete the myth. You have to do these things on schedule. Besides, it's not just one myth. You see, one of the problems is that people have the wrong idea about time itself. Now let's start with the basics alright? Time is nothing more and nothing less than fractional divisions of eternity. And they're irrational divisions at best; stupid mechanical divisions of a continuum that is gonna be there and is gonna be there. Even if there isn't a "there" at all, it's gonna there. Now, people presume that it's got a direction, that it goes from here to there, and sometime – if they have to think of it at all – have to think of it in terms of a line or band, or a continuum that is progressing in a direction . But it doesn't work that way at all. It's spherical.
No, it's an oval.
It's spherical. And it's moebius sphere, and its movin inward and outward at the same time. It defies being chopped up into segments like that.
Well, we have to have something to live by, something by which to function.
OK, but that's only to live by.
But art is an expression of life, right?
Maybe. Maybe. But maybe not. You see, the concept of, uh, dealing with things by this mechanical means that you use to set your alarm clock, if you want to set your art works by it then you're in trouble because then everything is going to get boring. So I'm working on different type of time scale.
Until it comes to eighteen minutes per side of an album.
That I don't like to fuck around with too much because I'm very concerned about getting proper level on a disc.
But you have gone beyond it.
I've gone almost up to a half a hour on a side and regretted every moment of it.
A little while ago you jumped on me for mentioning something about the culture that affected your music.
"The culture that spawned my art."
Well, who were your major influences? I'd like to go back to Freak Out.
Well, there's a list in the album, 156 names.
All these people have been ...
... legitimate influences.
What about since that time?
There have been about three or four.
I expected you might say that. Would you mind naming them?
Krzysztof Penderecki, György Ligeti, Phillipe Koutev [Filip Kutev] ... and I can't think of another one. There must be only three.
Those are people I am not familiar with.
Krzysztof Penderecki is a composer. He's the head of all Polish music and writes in a certain kind of style. György Ligeti is a composer best known for his "scary music" in 2001. But they just borrowed that from his straight compositions. Phillipe Koutev is the organizer of a folk music ensemble in Bulgaria; it's the hottest band in that area.
Are they available on European discs?
Yea, sure. And American discs. Nonesuch has got several albums of the folk music of Bulgaria, the Phillipe Koutev ensemble included. György Ligeti is available on Columbia, and Pendereski is available on RCA.
What about fusions of rock and jazz? You were working with fusions of rock and jazz, and even classical long before people like Mahavishnu John McLaughlin. Are you impressed with any of the electric jazz things that are going down now? John McLaughlin?
No.
Michal Urbaniak?
No.
You don't like them?
You asked if I was impressed with them. I said no.
In order for you to be impressed with someone, does he or she have to be innovative in a certain way?
Actually, it's all just a matter of taste.
Note. This article here is a slightly shortened version of an interview "A Matter of Taste" that appeared in Bugle American, 17 December 1975.