| Album notes by Gail Zappa - July 13, 1996
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| The following individuals may be held accountable through UMRK for the resurrection and reconstitution of “Läther” as conceived by FZ:
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| Digital Mastering and EQ - Spencer Chrislu
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| Transfer Engineers - David Dondorf, Spencer Chrislu
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| Vaultmeisterment - Joe Travers
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| Bonus Section Assembly, Edits and Mastering - Spencer Chrislu
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| Cover Concept - Dweezil Zappa
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| Forward Motion - Gail Zappa
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| Deep-dish Descriptives - Simon Prentis
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| Cover Execution and Layout Design - Steven Jurgensmeyer
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| Enthusiasm - Jill Christiansen
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| Special Thanks To Susan S. Kaplan and Silvio.
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| There are reasons why you are now in possession of this wonderful recording. Some of them have everything to do with you. Some of them have to do with present-day composers ▶. One of them is because we thought it was such a good idea to go into that cloistered repository where Time, no longer contracted nor ticked off by ancient record company mores and bad managemental health, rests and dreams of being measured only by music. We braved billions of dust motes and myriad munchkin HUNCHENTOOTs ▲… well, alright, Joe did.
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| OK. Here’s the deal: Joe went into the Vault. His objective: “Läther”. He found the original 2-track Masters, just as they were compiled by FZ, that he had mixed and mastered for vinyl with Kerry McNab. Next, Joe went on a search and seizure mission for material directly related to “Läther”. He found the remix for “Re-gyptian strut” that FZ did with Spence in 1993. He found the tape FZ labeled “Leather Goods” from which Spence extracted the guitar solo of the same name (only a snippet of which appears in “Duck duck goose”). He found outtakes. Outs from master reels labeled “Baby Snakes outtakes” from whence was caused to be unleashed “Revenge of the knick knack people”. Other snippets came from a box labeled “Odeon Percussion” from the same era. He found the original instrumental version of “Time is money”. All these were FZ’s mixes. He found an overdub of Terry Bozzio’s John Smothers from “Dong work for Yuda”.
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| Lo, he found many things. And they were good. Thence did Spence proclaim decisions had to be made. This process shall remain a UMRK secret but this much we share with you now: choices were based on historical relevance and favoritism.
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| And speaking of history, how about a little filler material on how “Läther” was cured. (Yeah? Look it up in the dictionary). As originally conceived by Frank, “Läther” was always a 4-record box set. One more time for the world ▶: “Läther” was always a 4-record box set. The record company didn’t want to release it. FZ wanted to release it with another record company, as a special project. The record company didn’t want the record company to release it. He asked for an assignment of his contract from his production deal to the record company direct in order to advance the possibility of being able to do “special projects” (like box sets would you believe). Briefly the record company agreed (one record appeared on this label), then reneged. They told him that under his contract he owed them 4 more records. (They didn’t want him to release it).
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| He reluctantly reformatted “Läther” and delivered it to the label. Nothing like this had ever happened before. No artist had cured his obligations by delivering all the albums required at once. They wouldn’t pay him. They wouldn’t release him. He took “Läther” to a local radio station and asked them to play the entire program. They did and this is how it came to pass that Frank asked the listeners to get their tape recorders ready and thus delivered “Läther” free to the public radio audience. The rest is history.
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| The frost is on the pumpkins… the aeons are closing… ▶ nevertheless, we here at UMRK feel it is our duty…
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| Thanks for listening
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| Album notes by Simon Prentis - June 1996
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| From the point of view of “Earthworks” ▶, “Läther” is an unmitigatedly ▶ inspired choice to be unveiling at this particular closure of the aeons ▶. But not so much because it is the great unreleased masterpiece (even if you didn’t happen to be standing by with a tape recorder on that fateful day in December 1977, you could well have heard it by now in some quasi-unauthorized format) as for what it represents. Because “Läther” is not just a question of nostalgia for the old folks ▶: aside from being a showcase for some of the best and most variegated work in Zappa’s oeuvre, it is actually an unparalleled opportunity to watch the Conceptual Continuity get down with its bad self.
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| It is also, of course, the stuff of legend. A massive raft of diskage, weighing in at over two and a half hours, it’s perhaps not entirely surprising that snazzy record company execs ▲ several press kits short of a taste for the bizarre ▶ might have balked at the prospect of unleashing such a large lump of unclassifiable material onto a market whose cutting edge was defined at the time by disco poot and the green shoots of punk. The persistent rumor has always been that, contractual obligations to the contrary notwithstanding, “Läther” was rejected in early 1977, ultimately to emerge over the next two years - amid a frenzy of lawsuits - re-edited into several more obvious “genre” albums (principally “Live in New York”, “Studio Tan”, “Sleep Dirt”, and “Orchestral Favorites”).
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| Others have claimed that, no, it was the other way round: the separate versions were prepared first, the “Läther” album being a bold attempt to get the material released elsewhere before the corporate legal machinery started to roll. Gail Zappa has now been persuaded to give her account of what really happened, but those of you who are still confused by the sheer skullduggery of it all can console yourselves with Quentin Robert De Nameland’s observations on the affliction of time ▶: the crux of the comestible ▶ being that, no matter which came first, what we now have is two entirely different compilations of a substantial chunk of prime material, both edited and arranged by FZ himself.
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| So? Well, look at it like this: if you can get excited about a rearrangement of a particular song or composition (and in Zappa’s case that’s not too difficult) then imagine how thrilled you might be to discover that the concept of rearrangement actually extends to cover the entire output macrostructure ▶, all of which could (and can) be realigned in a series of interlocking pieces, generating new forms and resonances appropriate to a particular circumstance or theme. Of course, if you’d been paying attention over the years to the concert material, you might have noticed that this was the idea all along: but most folks need an album to convince them. And “Läther” puts the seal on it - you could even be forgiven for thinking that it paves the way to that much-misunderstood meisterwerk “Thing-Fish”, exposing as it does the secrets of the assembly process for your dining and dancing pleasure ▶.
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| Because apart from everything else, you have to keep your eye on the recombinant potential of Zappa’s work. The influence of the harmonic climate, the emotional context within which a particular melody operates, applies just as much to the strategic placement of individual compositions: unexpected juxtapositions of material familiar in other combinations can throw up hitherto unimagined links and contrasts. FZ’s principle of the when determining the what, ladies and gentlemen. Conceptual Continuity as Lego.
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| But even if your preference inclines more to the statistical groupings of pinheads ▶ than the fault-lines of the continental shelf, the heart of the matter (as with all Zappa’s work) is of course the music: “Basically this is an instrumental album” ▲, and then some. The range of styles on display here runs the gamut from the inane, poppy banality of “Lemme take you to the beach” to the obscenely beautiful orchestral intricacies of “Naval aviation in art?”, passing through sharply honed jazz-funk vignettes on the way to the cartoon complexities of “Greggery Peccary”. And then there is the guitar work, illustrating Zappa’s consummate mastery of the art of feedback. Were it not for the characteristically incongruous twists lurking in the background, it would be hard to credit - as with “The Lost Episodes” - that so much music executed in so many different styles (and with such precision and panache) could be the work of one composer.
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| No other artist at work in the medium (by which we have to mean “music, wherever she may be found”, since to confine Zappa to a box called rock & roll is to stretch the definition to breaking point) even begins to approach the breadth and depth of musical invention and virtuosity that “Läther” represents. And that’s just the music: one of the special delights of Zappa’s work is that you also have lyrics to chew on. Pungent, punchy and acutely observed studies of homo sapiens at play, they present for public scrutiny the most ridiculous intimacies of the desperate individual in all of us, the superbly original use of language only sharpening the savage exposures of the wit. Love it or hate it (and once you get in there, you won’t get away) what’s happening here is, if not completely unprecedented, then so close it makes no difference.
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| Like Joyce (James, that is - you know, the other guy with a thing about panties) Zappa has harnessed all the vocabulary available in his chosen heritage, and made it completely his own. His range, palette, execution and coherence are at a level unmatched by his peers (You don’t think so, huh? Well, go ahead, name one…) and yet some people still have the nerve to believe: “comedy music”. Ingenuity, poise, and audacity are stamped on all the compositions like a hallmark, a constant source of inspiration for those with ears that do not merely hear. In the context of contemporary comparisons, “Read ‘em and weep” is indeed the adjustable slogan ▶: but the tears, when they come, will be tears of joy.
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| [FZ] Baby, baby, why you cryin’? I’m feeling sorry what she said
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| “Put down that rag” I told her, then “Don’t wanna hear you cry again”
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| Dear heart, dear heart
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| Tell me, tell me what’s the reason
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| Dear heart, dear heart
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| Tell me, tell me what’s the reason
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|
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| You know I went to see the doctor and then I read a magazine
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| “Forget that book” I told her, then “Don’t wanna hear about the book again”
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| Dear heart, dear heart
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| Tell me, tell me what’s the reason
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| Dear heart, dear heart
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| Tell me, tell me what’s the reason
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|
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| There was a picture on the story that showed a young sophisticator
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| Who falls in love three pages later with some aggressive agitator
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| And by and by he comes to hate her, ‘cause she don’t shave her underarms
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| And he can’t go for that ‘cause he’s a young sophisticator
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| (He’s so sophisticated!)
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|
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| Baby, baby, why you cryin’? It made me wonder what she said
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| “Forget that book” I told her, then “Don’t wanna hear about the book again”
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| Dear heart, dear heart
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| Tell me, tell me what’s the reason
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| Dear heart, dear heart
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| Why don’t you tell me what’s the reason?
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| [Ricky Lancelotti] Would you still love me if my hair grew all down the side of my kimono?
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| [FZ] Well, of course I would, it might be hip if it did not cause you to trip
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|
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| Dear heart, dear heart
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| Or radiate a bad aroma
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| Dear heart, dear heart
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| Or radiate a cheap aroma
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| Dear heart, dear heart
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| Dearest heart!
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| Or radia-iate… Or radia-ia-ia-iate a cheesy aroma
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| Sick!
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| [Davey Moire] Leather!
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| [Terry Bozzio] Ungh… ungh… ungh…
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| [Roy Estrada] Unnh-ooh-oooh…
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| [Davey Moire] Leather
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| [Terry Bozzio] What?
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| [Davey Moire] Leather!
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| Yes!
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| I’m only fourteen, sickly an’ thin
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| Tried all of my life just to grow me a chin
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| It popped out once, yes, but my dad pushed it in
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| Tell me, why did he hurt me?
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| Lord, he’s my next of kin…
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| He’s a mex-i-kin
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|
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| I’m lonely an’ green, too small for my shirt
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| If Simmons was here I could feature my hurt
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| I’m scared of the future, yes, an’ I hope I don’t grow
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| Listen here, nobody likes me
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| ‘Cause everywhere that I go
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| They say no
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| They say no!
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| They say NO!
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| Hey!
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| Now I am older, got a place in the town, babe
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| Got a chin on my shoulder an’ it keeps growing down an’ down an’ down
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| I’m horny an’ lonely, yes, I am, an’ I wish I was dead
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| Listen! Why am I livin’?
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| Lord, I wanna be dead instead
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| That’s right, I said
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| I wanna be dead instead
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| OK, now dig this:
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|
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| I wanna be dead
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| In bed
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| Please kill me
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| That’s right
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| ‘Cause that would thrill me
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| I wanna be dead
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| In bed
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| Please kill me
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| Hey!
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| ‘Cause that would thrill me
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| I wanna be dead
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| Lord!
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| In bed
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| I wanna be dead instead
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| Please kill me
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| Be dead in bed, yeah
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| ‘Cause that would thrill me
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| I wanna be dead
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| In bed
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| Well, just as sure as my name is Terry Ted, Terry Ted
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| Please kill me
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| ‘Cause that would thrill me
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| Kill me
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| I wanna be dead
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| Thrill me
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| In bed
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| Fill me
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| Please kill me
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| With some love
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| ‘Cause that would thrill me
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| Every night
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| I wanna be dead
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| You know you…
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| In bed
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| You drivin’ me crazy
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| Please kill me
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| ‘Cause that would thrill me
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| Hey, don’t you wanna…
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| [Terry Bozzio] Ungh… ungh… ungh
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| [Patrick O’Hearn] Whadya say we go down the street for a few minutes?
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| [Davey Moire] No… No go on that… I uh…
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| [Patrick O’Hearn] You don’t like fag bars?
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| [Davey Moire] No
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| [Patrick O’Hearn] Well, try ‘em!
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| [Notes by Simon Prentis] A masterpiece of unbridled bluntness, this superb song picks up where “Chin” leaves off. Dedicated as ever to the cause of mental hygiene, the opening phrase says it all:
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Some of you might not agree
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But you probably likes a lot of misery…
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| The thoroughly traumatized individual (recognize anyone?) seeks solace in the realms of true love, only to be cruelly disappointed. Analysis over, we are whisked into a bubble of twisted sexual fantasy before having the rug pulled out in a typical Zen moment:
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But you forgot what I was saying…
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| Some cite this song as evidence of Zappa’s arrogance, but in concert he used to point to himself during repetitions of “you’re an asshole”: no one escapes the merry-go-round. Cynical? Perhaps you prefer bent over…
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| Come on! Hey! Do you know what you are?
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| You’re an asshole! Hey!
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|
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| Some of you might not agree
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| ‘Cause you probably likes a lot of misery
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| But think a while and you will see…
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| Take a while, you’ll see…
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| Broken hearts are for assholes
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| Broken hearts are for assholes
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| Are you an asshole?
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| Broken hearts are for assholes
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| Are you an asshole too?
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| Whatcha gonna do, ‘cause you’re an asshole…
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| No, no, no, yeah, yeah, yeah. Hey! You’re an ASSHOLE!
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| Maybe you think you’re a lonely guy
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| Maybe you think you’re too tough to cry
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| So you went to the Grape just to give it a try
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| Just to give it a try
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| And Dagmar
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| Possibly, the ugliest son of a bitch I’ve ever seen in my life
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| Was his name…
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| Handle-Bar Johnny’s
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| The whiskers sticking out from underneath of his pancake make-up
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| Alive and living in leather
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| Nearly drove you insane
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| Awright, what you been waiting for?
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| And so you kissed a little sailor
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| Coming up next week at the Grape, something new, something exciting
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| Who had just blew in from Spain
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| You can get a few of these lovely little sailors to roll the stage back
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| And pull the chain attached to the permanently-erected nipples of Jimmy
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| It’s showtime! Nice
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| In a bold salute to pain
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| Awright do you remember Fifi Dupree?
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| You sniffed the reeking buns of Angel
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| Formerly Buddy Love the Baron Of Beef
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| And acted like it was cocaine
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| Mmm… Coming next week a Grape salute to S&M
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| You were dazzled by the exciting new costume of Ko-Ko
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| On Thursday night, a fine tribute: leather!
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| In a way you can’t explain
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| No one can salute leather without saluting PUERTO RICO!
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| And so you worked the wall with Michael
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| Then we may come in up next Tuesday
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| Which gave your back an awful strain
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| Uhhh-nhh
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| But you came back on Sunday for the Gong Show
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| In crushed velvet or leather
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| But you forgot what I was sayin’…
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| ‘Cause you’re an asshole, you’re an asshole
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| That’s right!
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| You’re an asshole, an’ you’re an asshole
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| That’s right!
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| You’re an asshole, you’re an asshole
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| That’s right!
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| You’re an asshole, an’ you’re an asshole
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| Yeah-hey! That’s right! You’re an aiee-asshole!
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| You say you can’t live with what you’ve been through
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| Well, ladies, you can be an asshole too
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| You might pretend you ain’t got one on the bottom of you
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|
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| But don’t fool yerself, girl
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| It’s lookin’ at you
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| Don’t fool yerself, girl
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| It’s winkin’ at you
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| Hey!
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| Don’t fool yerself, girl
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| It’s blinkin’ at you
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| Gonna ram it, ram it, ram it, ram it up yer poop chute
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| Cock ring
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| Chick-a-pttthh
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| Ram it, ram it, ram it, ram it up yer poop chute
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| Leather
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| (Knockwurst)
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| Ram it, ram it, ram it, ram it up yer poop chute
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| Shausage
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| (Bockwurst)
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| Ram it, ram it, ram it, ram it up yer poop chute
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| Scabies
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| (Weisswurst)
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| Ram it, ram it, ram it, ram it up yer poop chute
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| Volume
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| Chick-a-pttthh
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| Don’t fool yerself, girl
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| Gonna ram it, gonna ram it
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| Gonna ram it up yer poop chute
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| Chick-a-pttthh
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| Nice
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| Don’t fool yerself, girl
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| Gonna ram it, gonna ram it
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| Gonna ram it up yer poop chute
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| Asshole
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| Don’t fool yerself, girl
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| Gonna ram it, gonna ram it
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| Gonna ram it up yer poop chute
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| Ay ay ay ay
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| Don’t fool yerself, girl
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| Gonna ram it, gonna ram it
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| Gonna ram it up yer poop chute
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| Ay ay ay ay
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| Don’t fool yerself, girl
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| Gonna ram it, gonna ram it
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| Gonna ram it up yer poooop chute
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| Ay ay ay ay ay ay ay ay
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| Don’t fool yerself, girl
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| Gonna ram it, gonna ram it
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| Gonna ram it up yer…
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|
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| [Patrick O’Hearn] Yeah, I knew you’d be surprised…
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| [FZ] And now, folks, it’s time for Don Pardo to deliver our special Illinois enema bandit-type announcement. TAKE IT AWAY, DON!
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| [Don Pardo] This is a true story about a famous criminal from right around Chicago. This is the story of Michael Kenyon, a man who’s serving time at this very moment for the crime of armed robbery. It so happens, that at the time of these robberies, Michael decided to give his female victims a little enema. Apparently, there was no law against that. But his name lives on: MICHAEL KENYON, THE ILLINOIS ENEMA BANDIT!
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| [Ray White] The Illinois enema bandit
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| I heard he’s on the loose
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| I heard he’s on the loose
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| Lord, the pitiful screams
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| Of all them college-educated women…
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| He’d just be tyin’ ‘em up
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| (They’d be all bound down)
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| Just be pumpin’ every one of ‘em up with all the bag fulla…
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| The Illinois enema bandit juice
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| He just be pumpin’ every one of ‘em up with all the bag fulla…
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| The Illinois enema bandit juice
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| He just be pumpin’ every one of ‘em up with all the bag fulla…
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| The Illinois enema bandit juice
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| He just be pumpin’ every one of ‘em up with all the bag fulla…
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| The Illinois enema bandit juice
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|
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| The Illinois enema bandit
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| I heard it on the news
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| I heard it on the news
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| Bloomington, Illinois… he has caused some alarm
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| Just sneakin’ around there from farm to farm
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| He’s got a rubberized bag and a hose on his arm
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| Lookin’ for some rustic co-ed rump
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| That he just might wanna pump
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| Lookin’ for some rustic co-ed rump
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| That he just might wanna pump
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| Lookin’ for some rustic co-ed rump
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| That he just might wanna pump
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|
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| [Instrumental]
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|
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| [Ray White] The Illinois enema bandit
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| One day he’ll have to pay
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| Someday he’ll have to pay
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|
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| [FZ] The police will say: “You’re under arrest!”
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| And the judge would have him for a special guest
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| Then the D.A. will order a secret test
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| Stuff his pudgy little thumbs in the side of his vest
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| Then they’ll put out a call-yooou for the jury folks
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| (That’s you over there)
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| And the judge would say: “No poo-poo jokes!”
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| Then they’ll drag in the bandit for all to see
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| Sayin’: “Don’t nobody, no, no, have no sympathy…
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| Hot soapy water in the first degree”
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| And then the bandit might say: ✄ “WHY IS EVERYBODY LOOKIN’ AT ME?”
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|
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| Did you cause this misery?
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| Well, did you cause this kinda misery?
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| Well, did you cause this misery?
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| Well, one girl shout: “LET THE BANDIT BE!”
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|
|
| Bandit, are you guilty?
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| Bandit, are you guilty?
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| Tell me now, what’s your plea?
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| Another girl shout: ✄ “LET THE FIEND GO FREE!”
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|
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| Are you guilty? Bandit, did you do these deeds?
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| Come on now
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| He said: “It must be just what they all need…”
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| “It must be just what they all need…”
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| That’s right!
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| “It must be just what they all need…”
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| Over there
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| “It must be just what they all need…”
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| Help me out now!
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| “It must be just what they all need…”
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| That’s right!
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| “It must be just what they all need…”
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|
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| [Ray White] He just be pumpin’ every one of ‘em up with all the bag fulla…
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| Don’t you know it must be just what they all need…
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| [Repeat]
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|
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| Talkin’ ‘bout the Illinois…
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| Illinois…
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| Ain’t talkin’ ‘bout Fontana ▶, ha
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| Ain’t talkin’ ‘bout Po-head-otated, ha
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| (I’ll try again)
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| Potato-Headed Bobby ▶
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| Talkin’ ‘bout the Illinois enema bandit…
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| Yeah yeah yeah
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|
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| [FZ] Wait a minute, this is for Roy Estrada, wherever he is:
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| Wanna-wanna-wannanennema
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| An enema
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| Wanna-wanna-wannanennema
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| An enema
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| I wanna-wanna-wannanennema
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| Eh, TAKE IT AWAY!
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|
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| [Ray White] The Illinois enema bandit
|
| The enema bandit
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| The enema bandit
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| The enema bandit
|
| The enema bandit
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| Talkin’ ‘bout the Illinois enema bandit…
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|
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| It can’t happen here! ▶
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| JUICE!
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|
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| [FZ] AWRIGHT-AWRIGHT! Ray White, the assistant Illinois enema bandit, live on stage here in New York!
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|
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| That’s it, sit right down and make yourselves comfortable
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|
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| [Davey Moire] Lemme take you to the beach
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| La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
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| Lemme take you to the beach
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| La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-lahhh
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|
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| Bring the weenies
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| I’ll bring the soft drinks
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| And the cookies
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| Everybody’s in love
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|
|
| Lemme take you to a show
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| Wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo
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| Lemme take you to a show
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| Wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wohhh
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| Eat a candy, you are dandy
|
| Can I kiss you? Maybe I’ll just hold your hand-eeee!
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|
|
| [Instrumental]
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|
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| Lemme take you to the beach again
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| La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
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| Lemme take you to the beach again
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| La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-lahhh
|
|
|
| At the freak-out
|
| Later we’ll peak out
|
| You’re on restriction
|
| So you’ll probably sneak out
|
|
|
| [Terry Bozzio] It’s gone
|
| [Patrick O’Hearn] What? Your talent for sucking?
|
| [Terry Bozzio] I…
|
| [Patrick O’Hearn] Never…
|
|
|
| Honey, honey, hey
|
| Baby, don’t you want a man like me?
|
| Honey, honey, hey
|
| Baby, don’t you want a man like me?
|
|
|
| He was the Playboy Type (he smoked a pipe)
|
| His fav’rite phrase was “Outa-site”
|
| He had an Irish Setter
|
| Hratche-plche hratche-plche hratche-plche arf
|
|
|
| It was a singles bar, a Tuesday night
|
| The moon was dim, the band was tight
|
| They did the Bump together
|
|
|
| What a splendid sight
|
| Roon doon doon doon
|
| Her teeth were white
|
| Oo-ah oo-oooh
|
| The drinks were cheap (it was Ladies Nite)
|
| He was glad that he met her
|
|
|
| She was an office girl, “My name is Betty”
|
| Her fav’rite group was Helen Reddy
|
| (They discussed the weather!)
|
|
|
| Honey, honey, hey
|
| Baby, don’t you want a man like me?
|
| Honey, honey, hey
|
| Baby, don’t you want a man like me?
|
| Honey, honey, hey
|
| Baby, don’t you want a…
|
| Baby, don’t you want a…
|
| Baby, don’t you want a MAN!
|
|
|
| She was a lonely sort, just a little too short
|
| Her jokes were dumb and her fav’rite sport
|
| Was hockey (in the winter)
|
| [Mumble]
|
|
|
| He was duly impressed and was quick to suggest
|
| Any sport with a PUCK had to be ‘bout the best
|
| As he jabbed his elbow in her
|
| (Get it, honey?)
|
|
|
| Later on they went off to where the music was soft
|
| The candles were drippy, they saw a real hippy
|
| Who delivered their dinner
|
|
|
| The rice was brown and soon they found
|
| That the crowd around that had jammed the room
|
| Well, it seemed to be getting thinner
|
|
|
| Honey, honey, hey
|
| Baby, don’t you want a man like me?
|
| Honey, honey, hey
|
| Baby, don’t you want a man like me?
|
| Honey, honey, hey
|
| Baby, don’t you want a…
|
| Baby, don’t you want a…
|
| Baby, don’t you want a MAN!
|
|
|
| He took her home to a motor court
|
| She wouldn’t kiss him, he tried to ignore it
|
| But it made him angry!
|
| Angry! It made me angry!
|
| Why, it made me so angry
|
| I COULD HAVE KILLED THAT LOUSY BITCH!
|
|
|
| He called her a slut
|
| Slut slut slut
|
| A pig
|
| Pig pig pig
|
| And a whore
|
| Whore whore whore
|
| A bitch
|
| Bitch bitch bitch
|
| And a cunt
|
| Cunt cunt cunt
|
| And she slammed the door
|
| The door!
|
| In a petulant frenzy!
|
| A petulant frenzy!
|
| This is a petulant frenzy!
|
| I’m petulant
|
| And I’m having a frenzy!
|
|
|
| [Guy in the audience] FUCK YOU!
|
| [FZ] Fuck you too, buddy. You know what I mean? Fuck you very much.
|
|
|
| On the sofa she weeps
|
| BOO HOO HOO HOO!
|
| She weeps and she weeps
|
| BOO HOO HOO HOO HOO HOO!
|
| She weeps and she peeps through the curtain
|
|
|
| He just got in his car
|
| But the battery’s dead
|
| So he asked to use the phone
|
| And she gives him some head
|
| And that’s the end of the story
|
|
|
| Honey, honey, hey
|
| Baby, don’t you want a man like me?
|
| Honey, honey, hey
|
| Baby, don’t you want a man like me?
|
| Honey, honey, hey
|
| Ah, baby, don’t you want a…
|
| Ah, baby, don’t you want a…
|
| Ah, baby, don’t you want a MAN!
|
|
|
| Baby, don’t you want a MAN sometimes?
|
|
|
| [Terry Bozzio] Wait a minute; we gotta get somethin’ happenin’ here. He’s in there spendin’ thousands of dollars an’ shit… We should make this worthwhile. We should… We should get into something real.
|
| [Patrick O’Hearn] Ho ho!
|
| [Davey Moire] Leather
|
| [Terry Bozzio] No, man, he’s not interested in leather… Shit! That shit’s been fuckin’ rubbed in the ground. Hmmmm, Christ, that’s goin’ on two tours old now… we gotta come up with some new shit…
|
|
|
| [Patrick O’Hearn] Oh-ho-ho, you don’t think so, huh?
|
|
|
| There’s a big dilemma about my big leg Emma
|
| Uh-huh oh yeah
|
| There’s a big dilemma about my big leg Emma
|
| Uh-huh oh yeah
|
| She used to knock me out, until her face broke out
|
|
|
| There’s a big dilemma about my big leg Emma
|
| Uh-huh oh yeah
|
| There’s a big dilemma about my big leg Emma
|
| Uh-huh oh yeah
|
| She was my steady date until she put on weight
|
|
|
| Ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma Emma!
|
| Damp! Too-koo-too koo-too-koo too-koo-too too-koo-too
|
| Ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma Emma!
|
| Damp! Boogedy boogedy boogedy boogedy
|
|
|
| [Instrumental]
|
|
|
| There’s a big dilemma about my big leg Emma
|
| Uh-huh oh yeah
|
| There’s a big dilemma about my big leg Emma
|
| Uh-huh oh yeah
|
| She used to knock me out, until her face broke out
|
| She used to knock me out, until her face broke out
|
| She used to knock me out, until her face broke out
|
|
|
| [FZ] Thank you!
|
|
|
| [Davey Moire] What ever happened to all the fun in the world?
|
| [Patrick O’Hearn?] Gurh-gurh-gurh-gurhg
|
|
|
| [Don Pardo] In today’s rapidly changing world, musical groups appear almost every day with some new promotional device. Some of these devices have been known to leave irreparable scars on the minds of foolish young consumers. One such case is seated before you: live on stage, yes, Terry Bozzio!
|
| [Terry Bozzio] That’s meeee!
|
| [Don Pardo] That cute little drummer. Terry recently felt in love with a publicity photo of a boy named Punky Meadows, lead guitar player from a group called “Angel”. In the photo, Punky was seen with a beautiful shiny hairdo in a semi-profile which emphasized the pooched out succulence of his insolent pouting rictus…
|
| [Terry Bozzio] Ooh, Punky!
|
| [Don Pardo] The sight of which drove the helpless drummer MAD WITH DESIRE!
|
|
|
| [Terry Bozzio] I CAN’T STAND THE WAY HE POUTS
|
| (‘Cause he might not be pouting for me!)
|
| Hah! Pouting for you?
|
| Hah! Punky Meadows? Pouting for you?
|
|
|
| HIS HAIR’S SO SHINY AND IT’S DONE REAL NICE
|
| (‘Til I squirm with ecstasy!)
|
|
|
| Squirm with ecstasy
|
|
|
| [Instrumental]
|
|
|
| [Terry Bozzio] Punky, Punky, give me your lips to die on…
|
|
|
| [Instrumental]
|
|
|
| [Terry Bozzio] Punky, Punky, give me your lips to die on…
|
| I promise not to come in your mouth ▶
|
|
|
| Punky, Punky, your album’s the shits, it’s all wrong…
|
| But, listen, this is no laughing matter
|
|
|
| I AIN’T REALLY QUEER, BUT IF HE EVER GOT NEAR
|
| STEVEN TYLER WOULD PAY TO SEE, PAY TO SEE!
|
|
|
| Punky’s whips, Punky’s whips
|
| His hair’s so shiny, I love his hips
|
| I love his teeth, an’ his gums an’ such…
|
| So what’s happenin’, man?
|
| Punky, you’re an angel…
|
| Oh
|
| You’re too much
|
|
|
| He’s been havin’ a rash
|
| No shit
|
| That keeps the girls away
|
| Skin doom
|
| Skin doom
|
| Is what the doctors say
|
|
|
| I wonder if Punky is rehearsin’ today
|
| I’ll just go over an’ hear him play
|
| His hair is so pretty… I’d like to bite his neck
|
| I’ve heard a rumor, he’s more fluid than Jeff Beck ▶
|
| Dig this:
|
| I AIN’T QUEER
|
| I AIN’T GAY
|
| (He’s a little fond of chiffon in a wrist array-ee-ay-ee-ay
|
| A wrist array-he-hey)
|
| That’s all it is
|
|
|
| Punky’s lips, Punky’s lips
|
| Oh, I love his hair, eatin’ Donkey chips
|
| Yes, I love his blink and his blank-blank-blank
|
| Why, maybe he’d like to YANK MY CRANK?
|
| YANK IT PUNKY!
|
| YANK IT FASTER!
|
| YANK IT HARDER!
|
| YANK IT ALL NITE LONG!
|
| COME ON, PUNKY! GET FUNKY!
|
|
|
| I AIN’T QUEER
|
| NO, NO, NO, NO!
|
| I AIN’T GAY
|
| NO, NO, NO, NO!
|
| (He’s a little fond of chiffon in a wrist array-ee-ay-ee-ay
|
| A wrist array-he-hey)
|
| One more time for the world!
|
| And then he said:
|
| “I AIN’T QUEER
|
| I AIN’T GAY”
|
| (He’s a little fond of chiffon in a wrist array-ay-hay)
|
|
|
| I-I… Lord, I-I’m fo-fo-o-o-nd of chiffo-on
|
| In a wrist array-ee-ay-hey
|
| I said
|
| I-I-I-I-I-I-I… Lord, I’m fo-o-nd of chiffo-on
|
| In a wrist array-hey-ay-ay-hey
|
| Come on, Punky!
|
|
|
| [Instrumental]
|
|
|
| [FZ] Thank you. Terry Bozzio, ladies and gentlemen.
|
|
|
| [FZ] It was the blackest night, there was no moon in sight
|
| You know, the stars ain’t shinin’ ‘cause the sky’s too tight
|
| I heard the scary wind, I seen some ugly trees
|
| There was a werewolf honkin’ ‘long the side of me
|
|
|
| I’m mean an’ I’m bad, y’know, I ain’t no sissy
|
| Got a big-titty girly by the name of Chrissy
|
| Talkin’ about her an’ my bike an’ me…
|
| An’ this ride up the Mountain of Mystery, Mystery
|
|
|
| I noticed even the crickets were actin’ weird up here
|
| An’ so I figured I might just drink a little beer
|
| I said: “Gimme summa that, what you’re suckin’ on…”
|
| But there was no reply ‘cause she was gone…
|
|
|
| “Where’s those titties I like so well
|
| An’ my goddamn beer!” is what I started to yell
|
| Then I heard this noise like a crunchin’ twig
|
| An’ ✄ UP, jumped the Devil, he’s about this big…
|
|
|
| He had a red suit on an’ a widow’s peak
|
| An’ then a pointed tail an’ like a sulphur reek
|
| Yes, it was him awright, I swear I knowed it was
|
| He had some human flesh stuck underneath his claws
|
|
|
| You know, it looked to me like it was titty skin
|
| I said: “You, son of a bitch!” ‘cause I was mad at him
|
| Well, he just got out his floss an’ started cleanin’ his fang
|
| So I shot him with my shooter, said: “BANG BANG BANG”
|
|
|
| Then the sucker just laughed an’ said
|
| [Terry Bozzio] Oh, put it away…
|
| You know, I ate her all up…
|
| Now what you gonna say?
|
|
|
| [FZ] You ate my Chrissy?
|
| [Terry Bozzio] Titties an’ all!
|
| [FZ] Well, what about the beer then, boy?
|
| [Terry Bozzio] Ah, were the cans this tall?
|
|
|
| [FZ] Even her boots?
|
| [Terry Bozzio] Would I lie to you?
|
| [FZ] Shit, you musta been hungry
|
| [Terry Bozzio] Yes, this is true
|
|
|
| [FZ] Don’t they pay you good for the stuff that you do?
|
| [Terry Bozzio] Well, you know, I can’t complain when the checks come through…
|
|
|
| [FZ] Well, I want my Chrissy an’ I want my beer
|
| So you just barf it back up, now, Devil, do you hear?
|
| [Terry Bozzio] Blow it out your ass, motorcycle man!
|
| I mean, I am the Devil, do you understand?
|
| Just what will you give me for your titties and beer?
|
| I suppose you noticed this little contract here…
|
|
|
| [FZ] You’re goddam right, you, son-of-a-whore
|
| [Terry Bozzio] Don’t call me that!
|
| [FZ] That’s about the only reason I learned writin’ for…
|
| Gimme that paper… bet yer ass I will sign
|
| Because I need a beer an’ it’s titty-squeezin’ time!
|
|
|
| [Terry Bozzio] Man, you can’t fool me… you ain’t that bad!
|
| I mean you shoulda seen some of the souls that I’ve had…
|
| [FZ] Oh yeah?
|
| [Terry Bozzio] Why, there was Milhous Nixon an’ Agnew, too…
|
| An’ both of those suckers was worse ‘n you…
|
|
|
| [FZ] Well, let’s make a deal if you think that’s true.
|
| I mean, you’re the Devil… so whatcha gonna do?
|
| [Terry Bozzio] Wait a minute, a tinge of doubt crosses my mind when you say that you want to make a deal with me
|
| [FZ] That’s very, very true
|
|
|
| [Terry Bozzio] Wait, you ain’t supposed to wanna make a deal with me
|
| [FZ] Ah, but I’m slightly different than your average customer, Devil
|
| [Terry Bozzio] But, wait, but most people don’t want to make a deal with me
|
| [FZ] Yeah
|
| [Terry Bozzio] What’s your story?
|
| [FZ] Well, most people are afraid of you, see? They don’t know how stupid you are. I happen to know that you jack off to a picture of Punky Meadows ▶ when you get home
|
| [Terry Bozzio] Grrah… stupid… grrh
|
|
|
| [FZ] You know, ever since that guy told you that he contained more fluid than Jeff Beck ▶ you’ve been tryin’ to outdo him. Awright, look, I’m gonna say one thing to you, this may not register right away, but let me say this:
|
| I’m only interested in two things
|
| [Terry Bozzio] Yeah
|
| [FZ] See if you can guess what they are
|
| [Terry Bozzio] I would think uh… let’s see, maybe uh…
|
| [FZ] Well, I’ll give you…
|
| [Terry Bozzio] Stravinsky… and uh…
|
| [FZ] I’ll give you two clues…
|
| [Terry Bozzio] Let’s see uh…
|
| [FZ] Let go of your pickle
|
| [Terry Bozzio] What?
|
| [FZ] Let go of your PICKLE!
|
| [Terry Bozzio] I’m not holding my pickle
|
| [FZ] Well, who’s holding your pickle then?
|
| [Terry Bozzio] I don’t know… ha! She’s out in the audience. Hey, Dale, would you like to come up here and hold my pickle to satisfy this weird man out here on the stage?
|
|
|
| [FZ] I’m only interested in two things, that’s titties and beer, you know what I mean?
|
| [Terry Bozzio] What?
|
| [FZ] Yeah
|
| [Terry Bozzio] Titties and beer?
|
| [FZ] Titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer…
|
| [Terry Bozzio] Whoa, I don’t know if you’re the right guy!
|
| [FZ] Titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer
|
|
|
| [Terry Bozzio] No! Don’t sign it! Give me time to think… I mean…
|
| [FZ] Alright!
|
| [Terry Bozzio] Hold on a second, boy… ‘cause that’s magic ink!
|
|
|
| [FZ] And then the Devil let go of his pickle an’ out jumped m’ girl
|
| They heard the titties plop-ploppin’ all around the world
|
| She said: “I got me three beers an’ a fist fulla downs
|
| An’ I’m gonna get ripped, so fuck you clowns!”
|
| Then she gave us the finger, it was rigid an’ stiff
|
| That’s when the Devil, he farted an’ she went right over the cliff
|
|
|
| The Devil was mad, I took off to my pad
|
| I swear I do declare! How did she get back there?
|
| I swear I do declare! How did she get back there?
|
| I swear I do declare! How did she get back there?
|
| I swear I do declare! How did she get back there?
|
|
|
| [Terry Bozzio] One more time for the world! ▶
|
| [Notes by Simon Prentis] Placement speaks volumes. This epic work, the electrifying opener on “Studio Tan” and, here, the final side of “Läther”, sparkles with new resonances in the context of what has gone before. Exemplifying the movie-for-your-ears methodology, it is a truly appropriate conclusion, not merely in the way that “King Kong” brings “Uncle Meat” to an end, but as a crowning achievement and scintillating review of all that has gone before: the musical material buried in “Greggery Peccary” is effectively a compressed summary of the elements that make up the whole album. No wonder Zappa spoke of it in the original radio broadcast as a masterpiece - it contains many pieces of ✄ fine, fine, super-fine music supporting a story line which itself is a hilarious satire on our enslavement to time and the vagaries of fashion, featuring some of FZ’s most memorable turns of phrase and including some extremely agile expeditions to the frontiers of rhythm, both linguistic and musical.
|
| The existence of several matching animated piglet sequences in the film “Baby Snakes” almost suggests that it was once intended as a soundtrack, but the music throughout is so graphic that visual aids seem superfluous: the instrumental section which follows Zappa’s withering description of the power of advertising (culminating with “and spreads it throughout the land using all the frightening little skills that science has made available”) virtually animates itself as a portrait of the manic speed of a digital technology now harnessed across the globe to the task of supplying all “the answers to the things that might be bothering you”. Anyone for Internet?
|
|
|
| [Narrator] The adventures of Greggery Peccary!
|
| [Greggery] Oh, here comes Greggery! Little Greggery Peccary! The nocturnal gregarious wild swine…
|
|
|
| [Narrator] A peccary is a little pig with a white collar that usually hangs around between Texas and Paraguay, sometimes ranging as far west as Catalina
|
| [Greggery] Catalina, Catalina, Catalina!
|
|
|
| [Narrator] This particular peccary is part of that bold…
|
| [Greggery] Bold…
|
| [Narrator] New…
|
| [Greggery] New…
|
| [Narrator] Breed…
|
| [Greggery] Breeding…
|
| [Narrator] That distinguishes itself by markings which resemble a wide tie directly below the white collar
|
| [Greggery] If it’s wide enough everyone will know that the tie I’m wearing is a symbol of how nimble my mind will know, ooh-ooh!
|
| [Narrator] Swank suave!
|
| [Greggery] Hoon-hoon hoonna-han hoonna hoonna
|
|
|
| [Instrumental]
|
|
|
| [Narrator] Look out, here he comes again!
|
| [Greggery] Oh, here comes Greggery Peccary! Yes it’s cravy, cravy, yeah!
|
|
|
| [Instrumental]
|
|
|
| [Narrator] Every morning, Greggery drives his little red Volkswagen to the ugly part of town where they keep the government buildings
|
| [Greggery] Voodn voodn!
|
|
|
| [Instrumental]
|
|
|
| [Greggery] Boy, it’s so hard to find a place to park around here!
|
|
|
| [Greggery] Voo-voo-voo-nya-hoon
|
|
|
| [Narrator] Greggery Peccary takes the elevator, up to the eighty-third floor of a grim, gray, evil-looking building with a sign on the front reading: “Big Swifty & Associates, Trend-Mongers”
|
| And what, might you ask, is a trend-monger? Well, a trend-monger is a person who dreams up a trend (like “The twist” or “Flower Power”), and spreads it throughout the land, using all the frightening little skills that science has made available!
|
|
|
| [Instrumental]
|
|
|
| [Narrator] And so it was, one fateful morning, Greggery Peccary made his way through the Steno Pool
|
| [Greggery] Hi Mildred! Hello Gladys! Wanda!
|
| [Narrator] Yes, from the moment they laid eyes on him, all the girls in the Big Swifty Steno Pool knew… here was a nocturnal gregarious wild swine on his way up!
|
| A peccary of destiny… adventure and romance! ▶
|
| [Greggery] Is there any mail for me?
|
|
|
| [Steno pool] Swifty’s. This is Big Swifty’s. At Big Swifty’s we all know-ow-ow…
|
| [Greggery] Wo-wo
|
| [Greggery] You’ll go for any gimmick or gizmo! Wouldn’t you rather be involved in a series of colorful time-wasting trends?
|
|
|
| [Narrator] Air hockey… biff, dush!
|
|
|
| [Steno pool] La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
|
| [Greggery] Youp youp youp youp
|
| [Greggery] Is your wife snoring by the sink?
|
| [Steno pool] La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
|
| [Greggery] Youp youp youp youp
|
| [Greggery] Ain’t your life boring, don’t you think?
|
| [Steno pool] Youp youp youp-youp-youp youp youp
|
| [Greggery] Life is so much better when there’s some little something to do!
|
|
|
| [Narrator] Does it matter that this waste of time is what makes a life for you? Hmmmmm?
|
| [Greggery] I must plummet boldly forward to my ultra-avant laminated, simulated replica-mahogany desk, with the strategically-placed, imported, very hip water pipe, and the latest edition of the Whole Earth Catalog, and rack my agile mind for a spectacular new trend, thereby rejuvenating our limping economy, and providing for bored and miserable people everywhere some great new thing to identify with
|
| [Steno pool] We have got the little answers to the things that might be bothering you
|
| [Greggery] We have got your little toys. We’re busy makin’ ‘em, busy makin’ ‘em…
|
| [Steno pool] We’re busy makin’ ‘em!
|
| [Greggery] Busy makin’ ‘em, just for you
|
| [Steno pool] Yoo-hoo-hoo
|
|
|
| [Greggery] Highly efficient, Miss Snodgrass! ▶
|
|
|
| [Narrator] And with that, Greggery turned and strode nonchalantly into his dinky little office with the desk and the catalog and the very hip water pipe, and proceeded, with a vigor and determination known only to piglets of a similarly diminutive proportion, to single-handedly invent THE CALENDAR!
|
|
|
| [Narrator] With his eyes rolled heaven-ward, and his little shiny pig-hoofs on the desk, Greggery ponders the question of Eternity (and fractional divisions thereof), as mysterious angelic voices sing to him from a great distance, providing the necessary clues for the construction of this thrilling new Trend:
|
| [Angelic voices] SUNDAY
|
| [Greggery] Sunday? WOW! Sunday, Saturday, Tuesday through Monday, Monday
|
| Sunday, Saturday!
|
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|
| [Narrator] And thus the calendar, in all of its colorful disguises, was presented to the bored and miserable people everywhere. Greggery issued a memo on it, whereupon the entire contents of the Steno Pool identified with it strenuously, and worshipped it as a way of life, and took their little pills by it, and went back an’ forth from work by it, and paid their rent by it, and before long, they were even having birthday parties in THE OFFICE by it, because now, at last, Greggery Peccary’s exciting new invention had made it possible for everyone to find out how old they were
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| [Greggery] What hath God wrought?
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| [Narrator] Unfortunately, there were some people who simply did not wish to know, and that’s why, on his way home from the office one night, Greggery was attacked by a rage of hunchmen!
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| [Narrator] Making his way through the evening traffic, Greggery notices that the other vehicles which crowd and bump his little red car are all inhabited by slowly-aging VERY HIP YOUNG PEOPLE.
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| They appear to be casting sinister glances toward him through their glinting acid burn-out eyeballs, trying to run him off the road, or make him bump into something, giving strong evidence of hostile aggression.
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| To elude them, Greggery takes the Short Forest exit off the expressway. They zoom after him in all manner of cars, trucks, garishly painted buses, and motorcycles.
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| Greggery takes a bumpy trail off the main Short Forest Road, which leads him up the side of a famous and conveniently placed mountain ▶, and into a strange cave on the edge of a cliff, not far from a little twisted tree with eyes on it.
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| Meanwhile, the enraged hunchmen (and HUNCHWOMEN) rumble through the Short Forest until, realizing the little swine has escaped, they decide to park their steaming vehicles in a circular pseudo-wagon train formation and have a Love-In.
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| Under the influence of a fantastic amount of trendy chemical amusement aid, they proceed to perform Lewd Acts, rip each other off for small personal possessions, and dance with depraved abandon in the vicinity of a six-foot pile of transistor radios (each one tuned to a different station).
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| [Instrumental]
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| [Greggery] What?
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| [Narrator] The hunchmen finally expire from exhaustion and Greggery, who has viewed the proceedings from a safe distance, breathes a sigh of relief…
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| [Greggery] Phew!
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| [Narrator] Only to be terrified once again by a roar of immense laughter…
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| [Billy the mountain] HO HO HO!
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| [Narrator] Which seems to be rumbling up from the very depths of the cave in which he has hidden his car!
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| [Greggery] Good Lord! What was that?
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| [Narrator] Greggery doesn’t realize he has concealed himself inside the very mouth of…
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| [Billy the mountain] HO HO HO!
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| [Narrator] Billy the mountain! ▶
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| [Billy the mountain] HO HO HO!
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| [Narrator] And, as you all know, whenever Billy laughs rocks and boulders hack up, and the air for miles around is filled with tons of dust forming a series of huge brown clouds
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| [Greggery] Who is making those new brown clouds? Who is making those clouds these days? Who is making those new brown clouds? Better ask a philostopher an’ see what he says!
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| [Narrator] Greggery stops at a gas station and makes a mysterious phone call…
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| [Greggery] “Is this the old loft with the paint peelin’ off it by the Chinese police where the dogs roll by? Is this where they keep the philostophers now with the rugs an’ the dust, where the books go to die? How many yez got? Say yez got quite a few? Just sittin’ around there with nothin’ to do? Well, I just called yez up ‘cause I wanted t’see A PHILOSTOPHER BE OF ASSISTANCE TO ME!”
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| [Narrator] Greggery receives information that The Greatest Living Philostopher Known To Mankind is currently in possession of the very information in question, and, furthermore, this information could be his, if only Greggery would attend a special therapeutic group assembly (classes now forming), and available at a special low, low introductory fee. And now… here he is… The Greatest Living Philostopher Known To Mankind, Quentin Robert De Nameland! Take it away!
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| [Quentin] Folks, as you can see for yourself, the way this clock over here is behaving, time is of affliction!
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| Now, this might be cause for alarm among a portion of you as, from a certain experience, I tend to proclaim: “The eons are closing!”
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| [Instrumental]
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| [Narrator] Make your checks payable to Quentin Robert De Nameland, Greatest Living Philostopher Known to Mankind!
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| [Greggery] Who is making those new brown clouds? Who is making those clouds these days? Who is making those new brown clouds? If you ask a philostopher, he’ll see that you pays!
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| [Instrumental]
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| [Davey Moire] L-le-leather
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 Concept by Dweezil Zappa - Layout by Steven Jurgensmeyer.jpg "(Front of CD of 1996) Concept by Dweezil Zappa - Layout by Steven Jurgensmeyer")
 Photo by Norman Seeff.jpg "(Front of CD of 2012) Photo by Norman Seeff")
Songs list
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Title origin
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