by Neil Slaven
The Adventures Of Greggery Peccary is the tale of a nocturnal gregarious wild swine who one day invents the calendar and the consequences thereto. Though written during the summer of 1972, it was not recorded until at least two years later and then not released until September 1978. Originally conceived as a ballet with recitation, the recorded version is dotted with references to 'Billy The Mountain', 'Big Swifty' and 'Toads Of The Short Forest'. The music is as complex as the story is bizarre, fragmented with sequences for percussion and frenzied brass and passing gibes at the hip (a snatch of Herbie Hancock's 'Chameleon' from his 1973 album, Headhunters) and the hairy (Elmore James' 'Dust My Broom').
Greggery worked for Big Swifty & Associates Trendmongers. With his habitually mordant eye, Frank concentrated his scorn on merchandisers and advertising agencies, investing them with 'the frightening little skills that science has made available'. No doubt he chose to ignore the irony implicit in criticising others for utilising the very methods he'd used to promote the Mothers (and thus himself). When he hijacked the freak banner, he'd attracted a following not, as many thought, to formulate the strategy of an alternative lifestyle but for them to buy his product.
The latest piece of product, the last Mothers' swan song, Just Another Band From L.A., was released in May. Because of the lop-sided nature of its contents, with one side devoted to 'Billy The Mountain' and rearrangements of 'Call Any Vegetable' and 'Dog Breath' on the other, critical reaction was wary and mixed. Since the magnum opus relied upon local detail every time it was performed, references to LA districts were incomprehensible to New Yorkers, let alone Europeans. One reviewer thought it "very simply the best thing Frank Zappa and his resident crazies have ever done," but his was a lone voice. Writing two years later, Charles Shaar Murray, long a Zappa zealot, thought it "the total triumph of style and technique over content". "Technically," he went on, "it's extraordinary, and it contains some staggeringly funny moments, but it has no real content presumably because Zappa has absolutely nothing to say and was therefore content to experiment with style."20
By setting high standards and creating high expectations, Frank had made a rod for his own back. Apparently, musical complexity and wit were no longer enough, Zappa compositions also had to mean something. More than that, the meaning had to be comprehensible to critics and journalists who increasingly were becoming the protagonists in their work, at the expense of their interviewees. By simultaneously courting and disparaging the press, Frank laid himself open to adverse comment any time his motives were misunderstood or fell short of the precarious regard in which he was held. He had not lost the guru's cloak that so many still wanted to drape about his shoulders and any perceived lapse of divinity called down censure.
As Frank told Martin Perlich, "All I'm interested in doing is writing music that I want to hear. If I'm going into an area that you're not interested in going, fine, you stay home. I'll tell you what happened when I get back. I'll do you a public service, I'll find out what's out there. The only problem is, if you don't go there with me, you're gonna have to take my word for it when I give you my report. Now that's not too smart. You should at least come along for the ride and find out what's happening out there."
While on the subject, he couldn't resist a tilt at a favourite windmill. "Judging from the quality of the rock'n'roll writers that are appearing in rock'n'roll publications, I would say they're not doing quite as good as the people who're actually making the records. Therefore, if in a hundred years, people want to find out what was going on during this period of time, they'd be better off listening to the source rather than to read the thing in print."
In another part of the conversation, Frank gave an indication of the direction that his current writing was taking when he was asked whether he would return to satire. "I think that satirical content in music does not necessarily have to lean on the verbal aspect. There are plenty of satirical things that you can do with a mere note or a mere inflection and never say a word. It's unfortunate that the audience that thought that the satirical aspect . . . had vanished from the Mothers of Invention music was insensitive to the other aspects that remained in the music. In other words, they were so verbally oriented that by the time we'd progressed into other forms of commentary, they didn't go along. You missed the road, boys and girls."21
In late spring 1972, still confined to a wheelchair, Frank booked sessions at Paramount Studios in Hollywood from which two albums would emerge. First was his solo follow-up to Hot Rats, taking its title from one of the tunes, Waka/Jawaka. The basic rhythm section consisted of George Duke, Alex Dmochowski, bass player in Aynsley Dunbar's Retaliation, and Aynsley himself. Don Preston contributed to the title track and a pardoned Jeff Simmons played Hawaiian guitar on 'It Just Might Be A One-Shot Deal'. 'Sneaky Pete' Kleinow took a pedal steel solo on the same number and Tony Duran added slide guitar to it and 'Big Swifty'. Brass and woodwind players Sal Marquez, Joel Peskin, Mike Altschul, Bill Byers and Ken Shroyer in a variety of combinations, added tonal colour.
Despite a close identification with the original Hot Rats, this music had less of Frank's heretofore characteristic stamp to it. 'Big Swifty' was a side-long extravaganza with extended solo space for George Duke, Sal Marquez and Tony Duran as well as Frank's guitar. After a series of opening variations which put complex melodies to Aynsley's drum patterns, the piece slid into a mediumpaced shuffle that required a lighter touch than Dunbar gave it. Though plainly holding back, his rock'n'roll roots lent a weight and deliberation to his continual excursions around the kit, distracting attention from the soloists he was meant to underscore. Frank's solo indulged in pyrotechnical phrasing that suggested he'd been listening to John McLaughlin, the British guitarist who'd worked with Miles Davis and Tony Williams' Lifetime before forming the Mahavishnu Orchestra with ex-Flock violinist Jerry Goodman, Jan Hammer and Billy Cobham. Their first album, The Inner Mounting Flame had just been issued.
'Waka/Jawaka' itself was another blowing vehicle with solos by Marquez, Don Preston, Frank and Aynsley. It also called for more complicated playing from the brass and woodwind contingent as layers of intricate overdubs provided the piece with a lush climax. Sandwiched between these instrumentals, 'Your Mouth' and 'It Just Might Be A One-Shot Deal' featured indistinct vocals by Chris Peterson, Sal Marquez and Janet Ferguson. She'd taken over as nanny to the Zappa children, a job which she no doubt performed with more confidence than she shows as a vocalist.
Other material from these sessions became The Grand Wazoo, a suite of tunes which made a coherent whole, even without the elaborate fiction which Frank wrote as a sleevenote. The story, which ties together the title track, 'Cletus Awreetus-Awrightus' and 'Eat That Question', concerns the Funky Emperor Cletus and his fight with the dastardly Mediocrates of Pedestrium. He also regularly deals with a "grotesque cult of masochistic ascetic fanatics who don't like music" known as 'Questions'. "The original name of that song was 'Eat That Christian'," Frank told Bob Marshall. "I thought Question was better it's a more twisted concept"22 Cletus allows the 'Questions' two chances to redeem themselves before they are pitched into tanks of 'Undifferentiated Tissue'. The Wazoo itself is the 'oversize primitive-but-effective megaphone' through which he addresses them.
'For Calvin (And His Next Two Hitch-Hikers)' is a dream-like piece with an almost sublimated pulse which regularly disintegrates into communal improvisation. During the burbling muted trumpet solo, first a trombone and then Frank's guitar play the theme of 'New Brown Clouds', the finale of Greggery Peccary. 'The Grand Wazoo' is another extended solo vehicle intercut with richly orchestrated themes. Cletus has a militarily strutting theme and terse sax solo by Ernie Watts, identified on the sleeve as the original Funky Emperor. 'Eat That Question' opens on a free improvisation by George Duke's electric piano before the staccato theme is established; it's repeated with massed overdubs at the piece's end. 'Blessed Relief is the most overtly jazz-oriented tune present, as if Frank finally gave full rein to the direction in which the mu
sic had been leaning throughout the sessions.
FOR REAL
While these sessions took place, the other erstwhile Mothers pondered their future. "For months and months and months, we had no contact with (Frank) whatsoever," said Howard Kaylan, "we had no contact with his office whatsoever. .. members of the band were sitting around their homes waiting for the phone to ring, wondering if they would ever work again, wondering if there would ever be another Mothers of Invention."23 In the absence of any hard information, Kaylan and Volman put together a demo tape of songs and began searching for a deal of their own. But when Roy Carr interviewed them for the June 3 NME, they were careful to leave the door open. "Though we still work with Frank," said Kaylan, "we now have the freedom to do exactly as we please. This album that we're making has been born out of this new-found freedom."24
The July 5, 1972, release of Frank's brand new solo album, Waka/Jawaka, dispelled any uncertainty about their future. They signed with Reprise and Phlorescent Leech & Eddie, on which they were joined by the other ex-Mothers including Aynsley Dunbar, was issued in August. Meanwhile, the success of the Wazoo sessions encouraged Frank to take a 20-piece orchestra on the road. He recruited many of the musicians who'd played on the album, adding a couple of familiar names and substituting others. It took three or four months to accomplish, because most had studio commitments.
"It came as a considerable surprise to them to learn that they were going on the road," Frank told Charles Shaar Murray. "They'd never experienced it before, and I'd never been out on the road with a group that large trying to perform electric music."25 The full run-down of the Grand Wazoo orchestra was: Sal Marquez, Malcolm McNabb and Tom Malone on trumpets; Glen Ferris and Ken Shroyer on trombones; Mike Altschul, Jay Miglori, Earl Dummler, Ray Reed and Charles Owens on various flutes, clarinets and saxophones; Joanne McNabb on bassoon; Ian Underwood on piano and synths; Tony Duran on slide guitar; Dave Parlato on bass; Jim Gordon on 'electric' drums; Jerry Kessler on electric cello; and Tom Raney and Ruth Underwood on sundry percussion.
Rehearsals took place in the Glendale Civic Auditorium, the repertoire consisting of 'New Brown Clouds', 'Big Swifty', 'For Calvin (And His Next Two Hitch-Hikers)', 'Approximate', 'Think It Over' (another Hunchentoot song), 'Low Budget Dog Meat' (a medley of themes from Music For Low-Budget Orchestra, The Dog Breath Variations and Uncle Meat) and 'The Adventures Of Greggery Peccary'. The necessarily brief tour of what Frank called 'The Mothers Of Invention/Hot Rats/Grand Wazoo' began at the Hollywood Bowl on September 10 and moved to Europe for gigs at the Berlin Deutschlandhalle (15), the Oval Cricket Ground in London (16) and The Hague's Hourast Halle (17), before returning to America for gigs at New York's Felt Forum (23) and the Boston Music Hall (24).
News of the tour appeared in the British music press in the August 26 editions and Frank did telephone interviews for the following week's papers. "I have mixed emotions about coming back," he told Caroline Boucher of Disc. "I'm still on a full leg-brace and walk on crutches. It was a terrible break and I've still got to wear this thing for another two months."26 From the size of the band, it was obvious that this music would be very different from what Britain had heard before. "What we really have here is an electric symphony orchestra," he explained to NME's Danny Holloway. "Aside from the recognisable pieces which are rockoriented, there are two or three semi-symphonic-type pieces which are of a humorous nature simply because of the subject matter. But we're not going to have people jumping around on stage or falling down with tambourines and saying zany stuff we're not supplying that this season."27
Both journalists asked for his reaction to comments made by Howard Kaylan and Mark Volman as part of the promotion for their new album. His comment to Boucher was succinct: "I think it's highly unlikely that I'll be playing with Mark and Howard again."28 He was a bit more forthcoming with Holloway. "I would say that the press releases they put out are involved with their own promo as a group and have been very unfair in terms of the conditions under which the group disbanded. The main thrust of all that press material is geared to exploiting them as new artists and partly due to the record company's interest in selling their records. Apparently, they believe it's ethical to do it at my expense. I'm extremely disappointed in their behaviour, because there was a time when I thought they were my friends."29
Once again, it seemed that misunderstandings were rife on both sides. Flo & Eddie, like other Mothers before them, had ended up feeling exploited; Frank had assumed ownership of their contributions to the band's records and gigs. Frank's idea of friendship seemed to include the right to incorporate the bands' characteristics and adventures into his material, blurring the line between salaried employees and acknowledged collaborators. In an accompanying NME piece by Ian McDonald, even the mild Ruth Underwood was quoted to devastating effect: "Frank Zappa is a cynic but totally destructive. He doesn't believe in anything, not even love. He's just empty inside."30
Further justification for Frank's cynicism wasn't slow in making itself apparent. At the press conference held on the day before the Oval gig, he was presented with a £15 bouquet of flowers by Susan North, girlfriend of Trevor Howell, his Rainbow assailant. The Evening News reported her words to Frank: "You don't know how sorry I am for what my boyfriend did. I hope this can go some way towards apologising."31
Frank didn't know until later that North had been put up to the 'gift' by Ronnie and Ray Foulks, promoters of the next day's gig. "I discovered the depths to which the British will sink in order to sell a concert ticket," he said in his autobiography. Ah, the British again. The tilt was irresistible, even though by then he'd toured enough to know that promoters as a species, with some notable exceptions, shared characteristics that transcended nationality. But only in England . . .
It was lucky he wasn't aware of the original idea put forward by press officer Peter Harrigan that the Foulks had rejected. They had publicised their previous promotion, a rock'n'roll festival at Wembley, by having a naked girl walk up Downing Street to knock on the Prime Minister's door. This time, the idea was to have a naked couple play the two-backed beast on the hallowed Oval turf. On a bed, of course. They'd even considered offering Susan North £50 to be the female part of the equation.
Hawkwind had been engaged as a support band but on the eve of the concert, both bands' managements were still demanding to go on last. Originally scheduled to last from noon until 9 pm, the attendance had been limited to 15,000. Eventually, Frank agreed to go on first but only if the second half of his £12,000 fee was paid in cash before the band went on stage. Having dealt with Chuck Berry at their rock'n'roll festival, the Foulks should have been prepared for this demand. Unfortunately, insufficient gate receipts meant that there wasn't that much cash available. Tense moments passed until a cheque was reluctantly accepted. Frank struggled onto the stage and, in Philip Norman's words, "delivered an electronic symphony, like the disputing of many xylophones, to a largely expressionless night".32
By the time he finished at 10.00 pm, the Greater London Council licence had expired before Hawkwind had even taken the stage, let alone played a note. The atmosphere was tense. "As Zappa left the backstage enclosure," wrote Norman, "a girl shrieked something at him and was pushed aside by his black bodyguard. An admirer of the girl started to attack the roof of Zappa's limousine with a wooden post. He was laid senseless by the black man. The same black man had also dealt with one of the West Ken Mob (a gang employed as 'Security') who now leaned against a drainpipe with a diagram in red where his lips ought to have been."33
This was in marked contrast to what Frank had written in the intended tour programme, where he referred to the group's "green limousine consciousness" and described their staid stage presence. "The concert will be performed in a relaxed, tolerably direct and non-theatrical style. Only a few members of the Wazoo are used to playing popular music or are able to function safely if disguised by fringes, leaves and tinsel."34
The MOI/HR/GW managed to function properly for the remaining
dates in New York and Boston. And then they fulfilled their destiny, as prescribed by Frank: "The Wazoo has probably earned its place in the Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame (something he never did in his lifetime), for the simple reason that it is the only 'new' group in rock history which has known from the start that it will not be as successful as The Beatles, and has also known throughout its history the exact time and place that it will split up: after the Boston show, in the dressing room, on September 24. "35 In the same circular, Frank also announced his intention of immediately beginning rehearsals of another band, this time a ten-piece, and a new repertoire.
11:
OVERNITE SENSATION
"It was a worthwhile experience," Frank commented after the Grand Wazoo tour. "It only cost me $2,000. That's how much I lost on the tour. The tour grossed $97,000, and the expenses exceeded that by $2,000. A group that size, carrying that much equipment, going to Europe, playing that few jobs in that amount of time cannot make money at all."1
Three years later, his attitude had changed: "I think the overall impact of that group would be that it was between pseudo jazzette and cranial. And the people who were in the band at the time with a couple of exceptions were genuinely boring people. I mean — I don't appreciate a band that likes to play chess in their off-stage hours. If you have to spend a lot of time with people who are interested in their chess-boards and little card games and shite like that, it can drive you nuts."2
It didn't cross Frank's mind that drawing clefs and crotchets on manuscript paper, as he spent most of his time doing, wasn't a road rat's idea of how to spend time in a hotel room, either. But the tour had been a calculated risk that hadn't entirely failed, and one that had perhaps been anticipated by the creation of the streamlined ten-piece band that as previously announced now evolved from the larger group. At least the tour had enabled Frank to assess the practicality of the band arrangements and to consider ways of achieving comparable results from a more compact unit.