It’s an unfortunate truth
that as a filmmaker, Frank Zappa was a terrific musician.
This lack of affinity for the
art form never stopped him, however. While in later years he would stick to
concert films, like the extensive Baby
Snakes, he definitely harbored the ambition early on to create a movie for
theatrical release. He tried it in the 1960s with Uncle Meat, but shelved the idea when he ran out of money. But his
second stab at filmmaking, the nigh-unwatchable 200 Motels, made it all the way to the multiplexes. (Where, of
course, it died a sputtering death.)
While the movie has not made
the leap to the digital era, the soundtrack has, and it’s one of Zappa’s most
difficult and complex works. United Artists gave Zappa $650,000 to make the
film, and most of that money went toward hiring the London Philharmonic
Orchestra to finally flesh out some of the composer’s more intricate melodies.
In many ways, Zappa’s entire musical career to this point led to the meshing of
rock and orchestral music that makes up the bulk of 200 Motels.
The prior Flo and Eddie-era
Mothers albums were certainly a prelude to this monstrosity. Zappa was intent
on capturing the experience of touring, both musically and visually, and the
raunchy material on both Chunga’s Revenge
and Fillmore East – June 1971 paved
the way for the themes of 200 Motels.
It includes surreal tales of backwater towns, an encounter with “Lonesome
Cowboy Burt” in a country bar, a ripped-from-life retelling of bassist Jeff
Simmons’ departure from the band, and many songs about groupies.
In fact, Zappa had never
before combined his low and high arts as thoroughly as he did on 200 Motels. In Flo and Eddie, Zappa had
found gleeful accomplices – they could sing anything put in front of them, and
would happily spout Zappa’s increasingly perverse lyrics. And with the London
Philharmonic, Zappa could explore the fuller sounds he had been after. So what
we have here is mainly sophomoric humor set to impossibly beautiful (and very
difficult) orchestration, with rock band flourishes. A true mixing of highbrow
and lowbrow.
Zappa was unhappy with the
performances of his session players, but imagine you are a member of the
prestigious London Philharmonic, and you are given a piece called “Penis
Dimension.” Now, imagine you are unable to properly play a piece called “Penis
Dimension,” because it’s remarkably intricate, and you have been given very
little time to learn it. Orchestral players had a tendency to underestimate
Zappa as a composer, and Zappa had a tendency to overestimate his players’
willingness to pursue perfection at union scale wages.
If there are issues with the
performances on 200 Motels, they’re
likely recognizable only to the composer himself. The score is in parts
breathtaking – the opening “Semi-Fraudulent Direct From Hollywood Overture”
uses lines from “Little House I Used to Live In,” “Dance of the Just Plain
Folks” is a dark instrumental piece that changes shape every few seconds, and
“Janet’s Big Dance Number” is claustrophobic and eerie.
“Janet’s” is part of a suite
of songs on the first disc that describe groupies getting ready to meet and
have sex with touring musicians, and they’re perfect examples of the clash of
low and high arts. The orchestra provides interludes while the rock band
thunders in for three linked vocal pieces. In “Half a Dozen Provocative
Squats,” Flo and Eddie provide a lament for the sexually frustrated woman: “The
last guy to do her got in and got soft, a sad but typical case.”
“Shove It Right In” picks up
the story, finding groupies on the prowl: “At least there’s sort of a choice
there, 20 or 30 at times there have been, somewhat desirable boys there,
dressed really spiffy with long hair, looking for girls they can shove it right
in…” The powerful orchestral piece “Lucy’s Seduction of a Bored Violinist and
Postlude” concludes the tale. It’s like a concerto of smuttiness.
Does this work? At times the
scatological humor overpowers the orchestral score, easily the more interesting
of the two elements. The Mothers – the same lineup that made Fillmore East – take
the spotlight a few times, most notably on the single “Magic Fingers,” and the
bawdier material works better with blistering guitars. But there’s no denying
the genuine beauty of the melodies in “What Will This Evening Bring Me This
Morning,” for example.
And then there is “Dental
Hygiene Dilemma,” a song that achieves almost Inception levels of recursion. Zappa was a compulsive
documentarian, and had a habit of recording his band members at all times – in their
hotel rooms, during cab rides, anywhere he could place a microphone. That’s how
he managed to record Simmons grousing about the “comedy music” Zappa kept
making him play, and musing about leaving the band and starting a more serious
solo career.
Zappa decided, when writing
the script for 200 Motels, to include
this secretly taped conversation as a scene, with Simmons playing himself. He
did not, however, run this idea past Simmons – the first the bassist heard of
it was at a read-through of the script. And as the band was intoning the lines
about Simmons quitting the band, he did just that, getting up and walking out.
(Even this conversation was recorded by Zappa, and appears on Playground Psychotics. Confused yet?)
Without Simmons (he was
replaced in the film by actor Martin Lickert), Zappa switched gears – he created
“Dental Hygiene Dilemma,” a psychodrama about Simmons’ exit, accompanied in the
film by animation. Flo and Eddie play Simmons and his conscience, arguing over
whether Simmons is “too heavy” to remain in Zappa’s “comedy band.” The music is
remarkably complex, and Volman and Kaylan attack their roles with relish. It’s
one of the most striking pieces on the album, and only the start of Zappa’s
obsession with secretly recording his band members.
After a set of shorter, more
dissonant orchestral numbers, 200 Motels concludes with “Strictly Genteel,” an
11-minute summation of Zappa’s genre-crashing ambitions. The song is built on
one of Zappa’s most straightforward and stately melodies – it is clearly the
grand finale – and it gives equal weight to the London Philharmonic and the
Mothers. It begins with strings and Theodore Bikel singing about terrible
English food, and ends with cascading guitars and drums and Volman ranting
about Zappa’s all-encompassing control. It’s the blending of low and high art,
writ large.
200 Motels
has only briefly been available since its release in 1971, and because of that,
it’s seen as a curiosity in Zappa’s catalog. In reality, it’s a landmark, an
experimental melding of Zappa’s most ambitious and most earthbound tendencies,
soaring and complex music used to convey his most inconsequential and
smut-filled lyrics. In later years, Zappa would tend to separate his sleazy
rock from his orchestral scores – he would rarely combine them like this again.
200 Motels is not entirely
successful, nor is it clear what it would sound like if it were entirely
successful. It’s an entity unto itself, an island even in Zappa’s vast sea of
music. It’s a one-of-a-kind work, and in some ways, that’s a good thing.
Rating:
Worthy.
Which version to buy: Well, if you want a CD copy, there’s only one choice:
MGM and Ryko teamed up to release this, finally, in 1997. It’s out of print
now, of course, and it could use a thorough remastering. But since it’s the
only option, buy it if you can find it.
Next week: Just
Another Band From L.A.
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