While Warner Bros. was in the
middle of grudgingly releasing the dense, difficult Lather material, Zappa was busy setting up his own independent
label, Zappa Records. And what’s the first thing he releases on that label? An
album Warner’s would have killed to call their own, one that has gone on to be
Zappa’s best-selling record around the world.
Sheik Yerbouti
is the apex of Zappa’s ‘70s sleaze-rock style, the culmination of every
sex-obsessed, guitar-heavy thread he’s woven since Fillmore East – June 1971. It’s a huge double record, running to 72
minutes, and it is entirely comprised of humorous rock tunes and guitar jams.
The late ‘70s band is here in full force, including Adrian Belew on guitars,
Patrick O’Hearn on bass, Terry Bozzio on drums and Tommy Mars and Peter Wolf on
keyboards. The sound is slick and radio-ready, the songs catchy and fun, the
playing tight and joyous.
It is, in essence, the hit
record Warner Bros. wanted from Zappa, and he cannily saved it for himself.
This is the album on which Zappa’s social consciousness goes completely to
sleep, the one on which he completes his transformation into a smirking
jackass. But it’s so much fun that its frat-boy antics and sense of
self-satisfaction can largely be forgiven. This record just wants to rock out,
and it does so convincingly. Even its title works to that end – Sheik Yerbouti is pronounced “shake your
booty.”
Most of the basic tracks for
this album were recorded live, in a variety of venues in 1977 and 1978. It’s
not a true live album, since all of this material was overdubbed and punched up
in the studio, but it retains that on-stage energy for its whole running time.
Zappa, Belew, Bozzio and O’Hearn make for a crushing rock combo, especially on
pummeling numbers like “I’m So Cute” and “Trying to Grow a Chin.” Belew sings
lead on the driving “City of Tiny Lites,” while Bozzio and O’Hearn get a
spotlight piece to themselves – “Rubber Shirt” melds a bass solo and a drum
improv, recorded separately.
Zappa made extensive use of
his cut-and-paste technique on Sheik
Yerbouti as well, placing live recordings in new contexts to create
something completely other. “Rat Tomago” is a guitar solo plucked from a
February 1978 performance of “The Torture Never Stops,” while “The Sheik
Yerbouti Tango” is a jam spliced out of a rendition of “The Little House I Used
to Live In,” from the same concert. The 12-minute closer “Yo Mama” was
assembled in the studio – the vocal sections were recorded live on Feb. 28,
1978, while the extended guitar solo was recorded three days earlier, with
parts of the backing track laid to tape a month before. It all sounds seamless
on the record.
But none of those musical
achievements explain the album’s popularity. Sheik Yerbouti’s calling card, its raison d’etre, is its sniggering
locker room humor. The album begins with “I Have Been In You,” a sexually
driven parody of Peter Frampton’s “I’m In You” that contains the line “There
ain’t no time to wash your stinky hand, go ahead and roll over, I’m going in
you again.” It sets the tone. “Broken Hearts are for Assholes” starts off as an
inspirational number, but ends with Zappa repeating, “Don’t fool yourself,
girl, it’s going right up your poop chute.” “Jones Crusher” is exactly what it
sounds like – a song about a woman who “can push, she can shove ‘till it’s just
a nub.”
Most of this is harmless,
stupid fun. “Dancin’ Fool” is one of Zappa’s biggest hits – it was even
nominated for a Grammy for best male vocal, though it didn't win. A semi-sequel
to “Disco Boy,” this catchy number is about disco fans who cannot help but
dance, despite their lack of ability. (“One of my legs is shorter than the
other and both of my feet’s too long,” Zappa sings, referencing his recovery
from being pushed off the stage in 1971.) “Baby Snakes” is about penises, of
course, but it’s so obvious that it’s actually funny. And “Wild Love,” the
record’s most complex composition, is another in a long line of observational
pieces casting a jaded eye on youthful relationships.
But Zappa does cross the line
of good taste twice on this album, and your ability to roll with these lyrics
will determine your feelings about Sheik
Yerbouti. The first is, ironically, the album’s biggest hit around the
world. In “Bobby Brown Goes Down,” Zappa details the sexual escapades of an
all-American kid (“I got a cheerleader here wants to help with my paper, let
her do all the work and maybe later I’ll rape her”) who runs afoul of “women’s
liberation” when he has sex with a “dyke by the name of Freddie.” This
encounter pushes Bobby into sadomasochism (“I can take about an hour on the
tower of power, so long as I gets a little golden shower”), and he ends up a
“sexual spastic.” “Oh God, I am the American dream, with a spindle up my butt
‘till it makes me scream…”
The song’s music draws on
Zappa’s love of ‘50s balladry, with some synth cheese ladled on, and his point
is the same as it’s been since Absolutely
Free – beneath the veneer of respectability lies depravity. But he’s never
made that point with less artfulness than he does here.
“Jewish Princess,” the other
problematic number, suffers from the same lack of subtlety. It is what it
sounds like – a song detailing every heinous cultural stereotype of Jewish
women (and inventing a few more), with a smirk and a smack on the ass. Zappa’s
dream princess has “overworked gums, and squeaks when she comes,” she “don’t
know shit about cooking and is arrogant looking,” has a “pre-moistened dumper,”
“titanic tits and sandblasted zits,” and a “garlic aroma that could level
Tacoma.” She can even be poor, he says, “so long as she does it with four on
the floor.”
It’s an impossible song to
defend. (Is there any excuse for the line “I just want a Yemenite hole”?) The
Anti-Defamation League criticized Zappa for this song, and he refused them an
apology, saying, “Unlike the unicorn, such creatures do exist, and deserve to
be commemorated with their own special opus.” There’s no question Zappa has the
right to pen a song like this. The question should be whether the listener
wants to spend time in the company of someone who would pen a song like this.
This will not be the last
time Zappa pushes this particular envelope. Sheik
Yerbouti is one of his most cynical records, aimed at the funny bones of
frat boys and primed to expand on the radio success of Over-Nite Sensation and Apostrophe
(‘). In that light, the album’s success is a fait accompli, but it spurred
him to continue down this path on albums like Joe’s Garage. Those who are here for the brilliant accomplishments
of one of America’s most prolific composers may find this lyrical trend
troubling, and perhaps detrimental to their appreciation of the musical bounty
on offer.
After all that, it seems odd
to say that Sheik Yerbouti is one of
Zappa’s very best rock records, but it is. For a double album, it is remarkably
fluid, and its energy never flags. The band’s playing is remarkable, especially
considering the live setting, and Zappa’s guitar solos are as striking as ever,
particularly the extended one in “Yo Mama.” This album creates a further
division between Zappa’s rock and compositional sides, mainly by being just
about the absolute pinnacle of the former. If Zappa has been a somewhat
hesitant rock god in the past, this is the album on which he jumps in with both
of his too-long feet.
Rating:
Essential.
Which version to buy: Hands down, the 2012 Zappa/Universal remaster. The
previous version on Ryko was awful – compressed, thin, full of audio mistakes.
This new version reverts to the vinyl master, meaning it also restores two full
minutes of “I’m So Cute,” and the sound quality is magnificent.
Next week: Orchestral
Favorites.