The more I listened. . .

. . . the more I heard. From Chicago and Blood, Sweat and Tears' sophisticated, jazz-inflected arrangements, I branched out, under the influence of newly-gained high school buddies. Now I was listening to Yes, Genesis, Gentle Giant, Jethro Tull and then in 10th grade, with the help of Steph, (Stephen being his full name) I came upon that musical marvel they call Zappa. Frank Zappa. Steph highly recommended the Freak Out! album. Of that release, Wikipedia says:

"Freak Out! is the debut album by American band The Mothers of Invention, released June 27, 1966 on Verve Records. Often cited as one of rock music's first concept albums, the album is a satirical expression of frontman Frank Zappa's perception of American pop culture. It was also one of the earliest double albums in rock music (although Bob Dylan's Blonde on Blonde preceded it by a week), and the first 2-record debut. In the UK the album was originally released as a single disc.

The album was produced by Tom Wilson, who signed The Mothers, formerly a bar band called the Soul Giants. Zappa said many years later that Wilson signed the group to a record deal in the belief that they were a white blues band.[1][2] The album features vocalist Ray Collins, along with bass player Roy Estrada, drummer Jimmy Carl Black and guitar player Elliot Ingber, who would later join Captain Beefheart's Magic Band under the name Winged Eel Fingerling.[3][4]

The band's original repertoire consisted of rhythm and blues covers; though after Zappa joined the band he encouraged them to play his own original material, and the name was changed to The Mothers.[5] The musical content of Freak Out! ranges from rhythm and blues, doo-wop and standard blues-influenced rock to orchestral arrangements and avant-garde sound collages. Although the album was initially poorly received in the United States, it was a success in Europe. It gained a cult following in America, where it continued to sell in substantial quantities until it was prematurely discontinued in the early 1970s."

So by the time Steph, and me by association, discovered that magical music of Freak Out!, it was only about seven years old, and Zappa, a mere musical infant. I call it magical, but I believe Frank only improved with age and no matter what he created, or would have created if not for his untimely death in 1993, it would have been interesting, challenging and musical. Freak Out! was, in retrospect, more an attraction to my peers for its unconventionality than any true musical innovation. But clearly, this man Frank Zappa was one musician to watch, or should I say. . . Listen!




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It's magic. . .

. . . when the music takes you directly, authentically and effortlessly AWAY.

A haunting, angelic voice capable of moving you to tears with a whisper before whisking you away to a smokey bar amid screams and shouts. And a band that fills in every gap with breathtaking color and nutritionally and emotionally satisfying musical sustenance while providing freight-train unstoppable rhythm and heavenly ambience.

I actually witnessed this in action last night. Music is, without a doubt, MAGIC. These magicians demonstrated their expertise and then some. . .



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The Black Coffee's Aroma. . .

. . . hangs thick like a cloud every morning. He sorts through paisleys and patterns and stripes on the door as he lifts up a vain little finger to stifle the blood from a close shave in the battle of life. The jet-set crowd's returning from an all night bout of drinking while he's all-consumed by grand delusions also known as wishful thinking.

His star quality seems to escape everyone who would be in position to help him. Still he goes off each day in anticipation of all of the thrill and the joy that one feels when he's making interment arrangements. He's misunderstood. A book, a song, a TV sitcom part you'd miss for blinking or a winning lotto ticket in his hand is only wishful thinking.

Oh it's nobody's fault but his own. So few offers come over the phone. But he still perseveres; faces up to his fears that can cloud the intentions and bring on the tears.

Still his spirits get lower each day that this program's protracted. Moment by moment it takes all he's he has to go on. But he just grits his teeth, charges in, slings the arrows back into the face of outrageous misguided confusion. And even though he'll never die a pauper or a rich king he's just not content to waste his time on anything but wishful thinking.

Oh the groceries and the bills aren't paid by talking or by drinking. So he just resumes his grind lacklusterly and does his wishful thinking.



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