Remembering Frank Zappa

Today's post is from our good friend HIM

I was introduced to Zappa via the most benign of means, “Trouble [Comin’] Every Day”:

 

It sounded like a throwback protest song. But the voice (of all things) got to me. He sounded committed, and serious, and p**sed.

 
Of course, Zappa’s 1966 debut album Freak Out! was a protest album. But all of Zappa’s albums turned out to be centered on protest: about standards, about limits, about music, about living.

The rabbit-hole that I fell into (a rather corporate one given that it was on Rykodisc’s by-the-numbers 1995 compilation Strictly Commercial) has grown shallower over time. But I still find myself drawn to Zappa now and again. Drawn, of course, because one sometimes simply wants to feel unbalanced and uncertain. I occasionally want less Dokken and less rockin’. I sometimes want to be reminded that music, through time, has placed a burden on us to think about what we hear so we can better speak about what we think.

 

Recently, I find myself thinking of his thoughtful stance on attempts to limit musical freedom and freedom in general, voiced alongside John Denver and Dee Snider:

 

At the same time, I am reminded of how infuriatingly aloof, yet strangely captivating and open, he could be when he offered up an interview while deep in the depths of the cancer that would take his life:

 

But all of these thoughts send me back to another fact: as annoying as he could be, as self-assured as he was, and as elusive as his most “radio friendly” sounding songs turned out to be, Zappa was Zappa. Noise for noise’s sake. A retro take on the past that would make Rob Zombie blush. Craftsmanship that featured people like Steve Vai, George Duke, Ike Willis, Adrian Belew, and on and on it goes.

 

The man reminded people not to eat snow of a certain color, and inspired them to move to Montana. He also changed the shape of music while advancing the cause of freedom of speech. In recent months, a lot has gone wrong in the world of music and in the world in general. We are all lucky if we remember that people like Zappa—love him or hate him or do both while rubbing the top of your head and stomach at the same time—made this world a better place.

 

I would say rest in peace. But Zappa would tell me to shut up and follow his lead. And I gladly would.

This post is dedicated to my long-time friend Dan, who once lovingly made copies of every Zappa album there was, simply because I was broke, couldn't afford to buy them, and needed to hear them. I repaid the favor by buying most of them, long after it was necessary to purchase CDs or tapes.