Friday, August 3, 2012

Lumpy Gravey

Lumpy Gravy
Before he evolved into the guitar monster and equal opportunity offender we knew and loved, and a culturally challenged music industry allocated him to little more a role than a cultish novelty act, Francis Vincent Zappa had a reputation as quite the experimentist. In his autobiography he explains that one of his earlier career goals was to be a scientist. In this extraordinary early recording, which to this day knows no equal, Zappa's experimentist side is exemplified and cemented for posterity.

Not so much a music collection as a work of recorded collage performance art, it is at first listening a random, unpredictable assault of spoken word, musical snippets and manipulated audio, which Zappa describes as a "curiously inconsistent piece that started out as a ballet but probably didn't make it". Interestingly enough, it never loses that randomness on repeated listenings; aside from some repeated references to pigs and ponies (the metaphorical implications of which are left entirely up to the listener), there is no real unifying theme or pattern, no repeated musical motifs, no one style to distingush or classify Lumpy Gravy as a whole. The whole purpose, if any, seems to be inconsistency itself, as a concept.

What saves this work from being condemned as an empty exercise in "musique concrete" is, of course, Zappa's unique and bizarre humor (and to an extent, social views) lightening the dialogue sections ..... most of which are recorded underneath a grand piano with the sustain pedal held down to lend resonance to the voices. There is an extended monologue concerning a guy and the fates of his various cars. In another section a man explains that his paranoia causes water in his washing machine to turn dark .... out of sympathy. In still another, we hear Louie the Turkey (so named for his frantic, gobbling cackle) describe a fight and escape from sinister fanged boogeymen.

Oh yes, the music. Lumpy Gravy contains the earliest recorded orchestral works of Zappa, and are (of course) predominantly cacophonous and dissonant and give more than a nod to his Edgard Varése influence. There is also a bit of loungey-sounding jazz, some cheesey pop, instrumental versions of "Oh No" and "Take Your Clothes Off When You Dance" and an early study of the classic "King Kong". Plus some noises created with a box invention seemingly designed to turn sound inside out. For more on this device, check out "The Real Frank Zappa Book" or Ben Watson's "The Negative Dialectics of Poodle Play", which sheds some intriguing light on these curious early recordings of FZ.

Frank Zappa was indeed a Mother of Invention. On this album (released concurrently with "We're Only In It For The Money" and even sharing recorded elements of that work) we hear the Mad Scientist set loose to run amok in his laboratory, resulting in a jarring, abstract and very humorous piece that is without comparison. The four star rating is due to a diminuitive length (just barely over half an hour) and the way the CD re-release is separated into tracks (the original release was just Part One and Part Two), which I feel deprives the listening experience of its necessary abstraction. These are petty complaints, and in no way diminish this very vital work by one of the most misunderstood and under-appreciated recording artists to ever conquer a studio. Before he evolved into the guitar monster and equal opportunity offender we knew and loved, and a culturally challenged music industry allocated him to little more a role than a cultish novelty act, Francis Vincent Zappa had a reputation as quite the experimentist. In his autobiography he explains that one of his earlier career goals was to be a scientist. In this extraordinary early recording, which to this day knows no equal, Zappa's experimentist side is exemplified and cemented for posterity.

Not so much a music collection as a work of recorded collage performance art, it is at first listening a random, unpredictable assault of spoken word, musical snippets and manipulated audio, which Zappa describes as a "curiously inconsistent piece that started out as a ballet but probably didn't make it". Interestingly enough, it never loses that randomness on repeated listenings; aside from some repeated references to pigs and ponies (the metaphorical implications of which are left entirely up to the listener), there is no real unifying theme or pattern, no repeated musical motifs, no one style to distingush or classify Lumpy Gravy as a whole. The whole purpose, if any, seems to be inconsistency itself, as a concept.

What saves this work from being condemned as an empty exercise in "musique concrete" is, of course, Zappa's unique and bizarre humor (and to an extent, social views) lightening the dialogue sections ..... most of which are recorded underneath a grand piano with the sustain pedal held down to lend resonance to the voices. There is an extended monologue concerning a guy and the fates of his various cars. In another section a man explains that his paranoia causes water in his washing machine to turn dark .... out of sympathy. In still another, we hear Louie the Turkey (so named for his frantic, gobbling cackle) describe a fight and escape from sinister fanged boogeymen.

Oh yes, the music. Lumpy Gravy contains the earliest recorded orchestral works of Zappa, and are (of course) predominantly cacophonous and dissonant and give more than a nod to his Edgard Varése influence. There is also a bit of loungey-sounding jazz, some cheesey pop, instrumental versions of "Oh No" and "Take Your Clothes Off When You Dance" and an early study of the classic "King Kong". Plus some noises created with a box invention seemingly designed to turn sound inside out. For more on this device, check out "The Real Frank Zappa Book" or Ben Watson's "The Negative Dialectics of Poodle Play", which sheds some intriguing light on these curious early recordings of FZ.

Frank Zappa was indeed a Mother of Invention. On this album (released concurrently with "We're Only In It For The Money" and even sharing recorded elements of that work) we hear the Mad Scientist set loose to run amok in his laboratory, resulting in a jarring, abstract and very humorous piece that is without comparison. The four star rating is due to a diminuitive length (just barely over half an hour) and the way the CD re-release is separated into tracks (the original release was just Part One and Part Two), which I feel deprives the listening experience of its necessary abstraction. These are petty complaints, and in no way diminish this very vital work by one of the most misunderstood and under-appreciated recording artists to ever conquer a studio.

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