Anyone else care to share their stories??
It was in June 1981 at an open air concert in Mannheim, Germany. Just before the band came onto the stage, two topless girls just left of me (wow!) gazed through binoculars to get a glimpse backstage. After a while one of them screamed: "I can see him! I can see him!" and got VERY excited. Then, finally, they came onto the stage and started to play an intro. FZ nonchalantly conducted his "orchestra" for about 3 minutes, then, all of a sudden, a tremendous thunderstorm commenced. They stopped playing, rescued their equipment and hurried off. And they never came back. The concert resumed 2 hours later with the next band.
*deep sigh*
Anyway, I couldn't get a date, couldn't score anything to help my mood, was bummed out about a course, the audio was terrible and I couldn't make out a f*cking word of the music, it was cold, and I was somewhere up in the greys (ie, at the back). What a piece of shit. After it ended, I went back up to the grad terminal room and hacked for ten or twelve hours, which seemed like a much more interesting use of my time.
Of course, I curse myself now. Frank's is the only music I listen to. Maybe this should be crossposted to alt.despair ;).
Anyway, I remember half the audience yelling for Brown Shoes Don't Make It, while the other half was yelling for Elinore. Zappa kept asking the boys and girls in the audience to settle down. The show itself was good. Some of the original Mothers were still playing with the band. The next day the Toronto Star carried a story about the concert. It talked about Zappa's momumental contempt for the audience. I just thought that Zappa was someone who didn't suffer fools gladly. Anyone with any familiarity with his music knew how much Zappa distained performing requests from the audience.
This was the only time I saw Zappa live, so I don't know how his audience interaction changed in later years. I would enjoy hearing from anyone that has other recollections of audience rapport.
FZ Memory #1
ca. Fall 1975 - a group of friends at Oregon State U. obtain tickets for a Zappa performance at the Portland Paramount Theater. Still basking in the glow of Roxy & Elsewhere and One Size Fits All (which have scarcely left our turntables since their release), it is with high expectations that we make the trip north. Only one of our group has been to a Zappa concert before, which featured the Roxy band (more or less) and he is still raving about what a great show it had been.
We arrive in the Land of the Ports early in the day and head for the line that is already snaking its way around the Paramount (ah, the glorious days of festival seating....). Parked behind the theater is a bus which, at first glance, appears to be a Greyhound bus, but instead has Phydeaux emblazoned down its side in that unmistakable Greyhound style, led by a dorky-looking, crosseyed dog exclaiming Arf! This does nothing to lessen our impatience for the show to begin.
After the interminable wait in line, we finally get in and are wondering what to expect (hoping for Ruth, George, & co.). Finally the band comes to the stage, and after the shouts of the audience die down, Frank announces that this is a new band which has only rehearsed for 2 weeks, and this is their first performance - so pardon the rough spots. This turns out to be the small band featured on parts of Zoot Allures (not yet released), with Napoleon Murphy Brock, Roy Estrada, and a couple of others (Andre Lewis and Terry Bozzio?)
They proceed to launch into a predominantly instrumental show, mainly unfamiliar (at least to me, being a relative newcomer to FZ). The only songs I remember recognizing were Stinkfoot (which featured a bit of stage absurdity involving Frank and a mechanical poodle on a leash) and San Berdino.
Unfortunately, it was not a great show. Frank seemed unhappy with the sound (I was too) and bored at times. (Just before the guitar solo in Stinkfoot, the line was and as I've said so many times before - Sick!) The audience was awful - all through the show folks were yelling Frank! Mud Shark! and Dinah Moe Humm! hoping to turn the concert into the vaudevillian freak show that many of them had apparently come to see. At one point, Frank interrupted a guitar solo long enough to say, Hey, shut the fuck up for this song. There were no encores.
Afterward, making the long drive back to Corvallis in the wee hours of the morning (and fighting to stay awake at the wheel), I see a shape looming in the fog on the freeway, and some lights along the side. Almost too late, I slow down and change lanes, and as we drive past see that it is a car lying upside down in the middle of the left lane. No one appears to be in it, and there are a couple of other cars parked on the shoulder. The mood in my car has become somber (actually not much of a leap from before); perhaps a note of creepiness, as though someone has walked across our graves. Somehow, this seems to complete the feeling for a day that had started with such eager expectance.
FZ MEMORY #2
ca. Summer 1979 - Joe's Garage has just been released (and is beginning to worm its way into my psyche) , and Zappa is finally returning to Portland. My future wife Karen and I, along with Karen's brother and another couple, decide that we had better not miss this one. My friend's wife Shelley is about 8 months pregnant, and when we arrive at the Paramount we find the expected line that extends all the way around the building. After some discussion, Shelley and her husband go to the front door and get the attention of someone inside. Shelley explains (quite truthfully) that if she has to stand in line for a long time, she will probably pass out, and asks if they can be admitted early. After a brief conference, they are let inside.
Eventually the doors open and we work our way in, and find that our friends have saved us seats in the fourth row, not far from center. It is apparent that this show is going to be quite different from the last one, given the sizable array of equipment on the stage - large drum set, full percussion section, a massive array of keyboards, and a double rack of electronic gadgetry with lots of twinkling lights in front of which is a large pedal board - obviously Franks arsenal.
As we sit expectantly, oohing and ahhing over all the nifty sound toys in the nearly-empty auditorium (most of the crowd still out in the lobby downing suds, haggling over tee-shirts and making strange smells with various combustibles), we notice that there is someone tinkering with the racks. Unbelieving at first, it finally sinks in that it is Frank. He picks up a guitar and starts fiddling with it, alternately playing a few blistering licks and then tweezing the controls on his rack. By now he has attracted the attention of the growing crowd, and starts to show off his equipment. This is two amplifiers with distortion - barrage of notes - This is two amplifiers out of phase with distortion - another barrage of notes - etc. Some of the folks in the crowd start shouting questions to him. Where's Terry? He's forming a band with his wife, called Mrs. B. Where are Flo & Eddy? I don't know; probably eating. A couple of autographs are signed. Karen digs through her purse for a pen and paper, but by the time she finds it and starts toward the stage, Frank has finished his sound check and is leaving.
After awhile, the lights dim and the band comes to the stage. I wasn't familiar with any of the players then, but now know that it included Ike Willis, Ray White, and Tommy Mars. There was a bass player who also had a keyboard (and would occasionally play both at the same time), drummer and percussionist, and possibly another member or two (Steve Vai was probably one). The set begins with one of the hits - I think it was Yellow Snow - and then Frank addresses the crowd: All right, now we're going to start the main part of our show, which consists of 13 songs that you've never heard before. It may seem strange at first, but don't worry - you'll adapt. What followed would eventually be the main medley on You Are What You Is, beginning with the title song and working its way through Jumbo Go Away (maybe a few other selections thrown in - it was all new material, and still a long time before YAWYI would be released). During The Meek Shall Inherit Nothing, right after the line Laugh til you choke on Billy Graham, I flashed the OK sign with thumb and middle finger when Frank was looking my way, and he returned the gesture. This would be the only exchange of communication with Frank that I would ever have.
John Smothers, Frank's mean-looking bodyguard, was very prominent during this show. He spent the whole concert near one edge of the stage (with a small club in one hand and usually with a lit cigarette tucked behind his ear), and whenever Frank stepped to the front of the stage for a solo, would move close to Frank and kneel down, glowering at the crowd. I don't know if any trouble was expected at this show, but needless to say, there wasn't any.
When the band returned for the encore, some fans in the front row presented Frank with a long blue satin jacket with The Central Scrutinizer printed on the back, which he wore for the rest of the show. During one of the encores, someone's enthusiasm (or chemical enhancement) got the best of them, and they fell from the balcony. I don't know whether the band even realized it (the song continued to completion), but the show ended after that.
To this day, I don't think I've seen a better concert.
FZ MEMORY #3
October 1, 1981 (I actually still have a ticket stub from this one) - FZ is playing back-to-back shows at Portland's Paramount, and this time we bought tickets to both. This proved to be a good choice (though not for the expected reason - more on this later), as the two shows had very few repeat numbers. I prepared for the occasion by having a custom tee-shirt made which read, "Yes, Virginia, there is a free lunch - we are eating it now" (You Are What You Is having just been released.)
Strangely enough, even though this show was more recent than the previous Joe's Garage-era performance (and seeing two in a row a major infusion of music), less of it stands out in my memory. The selection of material featured a high percentage of songs that I was familiar with (though by now I had acquired the entire catalog), and more of the vocal tunes that more people tend to be familiar with - songs like Dinah Moe Humm, Florentine Pogen, and Muffin Man. The lineup as I recall it included Ike Willis, Chad Wackerman, Ed Mann, and Bobby Martin (any corrections welcome).
The most memorable event for me was a bit of Frank's unique conducting style which is a bit hard to describe. At the end of one of the sets as the song drew to a close, Frank raised his hands and began a pantomime of crumpling the music into a ball. The players produced a cacophony of sound that really did give the impression of music being wadded up. Finally, the music crumpled into a small wad, Frank tossed it to the floor, and the set ended with a small "poot!"
Part of the reason for getting tickets to both shows was the belief that having tickets to both shows would allow us to stay in the lobby between shows, so that we would be able to get good seats for at least the second one. This proved to be unfounded, however - after an increasingly heated "discussion" involving us, some other concert-goers who had made the same assumption, and a toady of the local promoter who seemed to enjoy this opportunity to demonstrate his power, we had to go out to the end of a line that circled the block. Our efforts were rewarded with nosebleed seats in the upper balcony. Fortunately, this was the only sour note on an otherwise great evening.
Sad to say, this is the last time I had the chance to see Frank perform.
As far as Frank's rapport with the audience, I remember "Audience Participation Time" to be a regular part of his shows. Sometimes he would bring cute young girls onstage and have them sing some of his unbelievably filthy lyrics to accompanyment from the band. Always a riot. He used to bring couples onstage and have them dance to a nice teenage dance tune. Once they were in the groove he would invariably twist the music into something bizarre or drunken and the couple would look really stupid trying to dance to this out-of time music. Sometimes he would do this to the entire audiance. Great stuff.
I've seen him bring John Lennon and Yoko Ono on stage and jam for an hour or so at the Fillmore East. I've seen Grace Slick announce the band..."Whether you like it or not,here they are,Frank Zappa and the Mother's Of Invention!", also at the Fillmore East. I've seen Frank bring out Sting as a suprise artist. As he introduced Sting to the audience he seemed at a loss as to Stings name. He fumbled verbally for a few seconds and said, "Here he is ladies and gentlemen...Mr. Sting. They launched into a Police tune and I noticed the entire band were wearing sunglasses. What a scream. Zappa dessembling the rockstar myth in front of poor Stings eyes.
A fair percentage of the shows I saw seemed like magic to me. How could a band be this tight? The sounds he managed to extract from these varied (and varying) ensembles was dramatically...different (better?) then other contemporary acts. So prolific, so multi-directional...and the quality!
My most treasured possession though is a tape of myself talking with Frank on the Larry King Show. Zappa was hawking his autobiography. I remember dialing over and over until I actually got through. I spent the ten or fifteen minutes till they picked me up furiously paging through the book looking for a topic. We talked about the last chapter, Liberal Media Bias and Spin Control. I started by saying that I though the press was dangerously sensational. Frank seemed to agree.(gratifying, I'll admit it!) I asked him to speak about the chapter, which he did, and to which King took exception. Frank's point in a nutshell was that liberals don't own media outlets etc. Anyway, I was live, coast to coast with Frank and Larry for about 4 minutes.
The world is a colder place without Frank Zappa. I hate to sound like a groupie but I swear I can't think of much I've enjoyed more than a Zappa concert. The tenor of these newsgroups and web sites and such suggest to me that history may treat Frank as it should...as one of the true maestro's of the human race. Zappa walks with any of them, Mozart,Beethoven...you name it.
But an hour and half later, up pulls the bus with the Mothers on board. We got to talk with Underwood, Estrada, Preston, etc. And of course Frank. He was gracious enough to allow us to hang in the dressing room while they all rehearsed and on stage during the sound check.
Everyone signed a great poster I had (the pic from Mothermania) which, sadly, was burned up years later (along with many other priceless artifacts that I grow misty when thinking about it).
I sat in the front row during the concert. Apparently Frank was less concerned about recording then as I have: A. A tape of the whole concert (crappy quality, but I don't care), B. About an hour super-8 movie (no sound of course) and C. several 35 mm shots.
After the concert, we went in the back where the bus was located. As soon as Frank saw me, he immediately came out. What a guy. I wish I could remember everything we discussed, but one thing sticks. I told Frank how funny I though Ruben and the Jets was, implying that he was satirizing the music. He immediately corrected me and made it clear that this was music he was honoring. Since then, of course, I have grown to love that album (vinyl tho).
So, thanks for the reminder!!