In an alternate universe, the
Flo and Eddie incarnation of the Mothers continued well beyond 1971. There’s
clear evidence, both in the Fillmore East
album and the 200 Motels sessions,
that Zappa was having a great time with this band, and in particular the two
gregarious master improvisers out front. There’s no indication that the
material was running out, and the Vaudeville act that the Mothers live show had
become was legendary.
But that’s an alternate
universe. In this one, a crazed fan pushed Zappa off a stage at the Rainbow
Theater in London in December 1971, nearly killing him. Zappa suffered multiple
fractures, head trauma and a crushed larynx, which led to his voice dropping
considerably. It took him almost a year to heal to the point where he could
tour again, and by that time, the rest of the Flo and Eddie Mothers had moved
on.
Which leaves live album Just Another Band From L.A. as the swan
song from this particular band. When it was recorded, in August 1971 at the
Pauley Pavilion in Los Angeles, it was by no means intended to serve as the
final document of these Mothers. But when it was released, in March 1972, Zappa
was still in a wheelchair, and this phase of his career was over. That gives Just Another Band a sort of poignance –
or, it would, if this record were not such a bawdy, raucous affair.
In August 1971, 200 Motels had yet to darken movie
screens across the country, and the Mothers were still playing material from
Zappa’s “life on the road” songbook. But the composer was evidently eager to
move beyond this – Just Another Band
contains no tunes about groupies, tour buses, mud sharks or vibrating beds.
Those songs were all played during the same show, but for this collection,
Zappa chose compositions that showed the ongoing evolution of his work with this
particular band.
The most important track here
is the first, the 25-minute “Billy the Mountain.” In many ways, it’s the
ultimate Flo and Eddie song. It’s a constantly evolving spoof of rock operas,
not limited to the fact that it’s an opera about a guy made of rock. As such,
it’s Zappa’s first real stab at a programmatic piece, a technique he would
perfect a few years later with “The Adventures of Greggery Peccary.”
There’s certainly a classical
influence on this piece, with its repeated and reinterpreted motifs. Billy gets
a six-note theme to himself, and his wife Ethel gets a 12-note interpolation of
that theme. These melodies appear at the beginning of the piece, and crop up
throughout, becoming musical shorthand for the main characters. “Billy the
Mountain” is clearly meticulously arranged, honed over dozens of live
performances.
And yet, it sounds like a
free-flowing comedy routine, in the way that only the most practiced routines
can. “Billy the Mountain” tells the story of the title character, one of the
Rocky Mountains, and his wife Ethel, a tree growing off of his shoulder. The
tale begins when Billy finally gets his royalty check for all of the postcards
he’s posed for. He and Ethel decide to go to New York on a vacation, walking
across the country – and destroying anything in their path. Along the way,
Billy is drafted into the army, and he ignores the summons.
To stop Billy, the U.S.
government taps superhero Studebaker Hoch, named after the Studebaker Silver
Hawk automobile. Studebaker Hoch rubs himself down with Aunt Jemima syrup to
attract an army of flies, who lift him off the ground to talk with Billy. This
doesn’t go well, and Billy’s laughter causes an avalanche, sending Hoch to his
(possible) death below. The moral of the story? “A mountain is something you
don’t want to fuck with, don’t fuck with Billy, don’t fuck around.”
This is all great fun, and
the band sells it as an ever-unfolding series of gags. Many of them are Los
Angeles in-jokes, but just as many – including a poke at Jerry Lewis and an
interpolation of the Tonight Show
theme – are universally funny. The nimble band – Zappa, Jim Pons, Aynsley
Dunbar, Ian Underwood and Don Preston – shifts from section to section without
betraying any indication of how difficult it all is to play. While some of the
jokes go on longer than they should, “Billy the Mountain” as a whole never
drags.
“Billy” takes up the entire
original first side of this album, and the second side feels like a strong
series of four bonus tracks. Three of them are barely worth discussing – you
get the Flo and Eddie reinterpretations of “Call Any Vegetable” and “Dog
Breath,” both arranged with new focus on the vocals, and another extended
in-joke, “Eddie Are You Kidding,” about Los Angeles store Zachary All Clothing
and its advertisements starring its owner, Edward Nalbandian. The reinventions
are interesting, and “Eddie” is a pleasant trifle.
But you also get “Magdalena,”
one of the few cases in which Zappa’s envelope-pushing led him into the realm
of the truly tasteless. The song itself is an intricate skipping soul-punk
number, but it’s sung from the point of view of a man trying to rape his young
daughter. It’s an outgrowth of the “what would you do, daddy” section of “Brown
Shoes Don’t Make It” extended to uncomfortable lengths: “Magdalena, don’t you
tease me like this, right in the hallway with your blouse and your tits, if
your mommy ever finds us like this, she’ll call a lawyer, oh how mom will be
pissed…”
Zappa does include one verse
to show that he’s on Magdalena’s side: “The girl turned around and said ‘go eat
shit’ and ran on down the hall, right on, Magdalena.” But then he allows Kaylan
to improvise the father’s twisted pleas for the final minutes of the song, and
it’s squirm-inducing. “I’d like to take you in the closet and take off all your
clothes until you are virtually stark raving nude, spread mayonnaise and
Kaopectate all over your body…” “I wanna take off your little training bra, I’m
gonna take off your maroon hot pants…” “We can make love all night long, no one
will ever know…”
Zappa defended lyrics like
this by saying he was reporting on the vile attitudes and practices of
Americans, without condoning them. But the song doesn’t make that clear,
spending most of its time voicing the father’s point of view in a jaunty way.
This would be a problem plaguing Zappa’s lyrics from this point forward – he’s
never certain of the line between condemning behavior and celebrating it.
“Magdalena” is a tremendous song, but its tone is disconcerting.
Overlook that, though, and Just Another Band From L.A. is a barrel
of fun. It is arguably the most successful document of the Flo and Eddie era,
proof that the concept could have carried on, if not for one insane fan. At one
point during “Call Any Vegetable,” Zappa announced to the audience that the
theme for that night’s show was “It is so fucking great to be alive.” He
couldn’t have known when he said them just how resonant those words would be.
Rating:
Worthy.
Which version to buy: Broken record time, but the best bet is the 2012
remaster from Zappa/Universal. It reverts to the original analog master – the
1990s Ryko CDs use a duller and darker digital master – and the sound is bright
and glorious.
Next week: Waka/Jawaka.
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