Roxy by proxy - Frank Zappa

Live at The Roxy, LA, CA - December 8-10, 1973

Linked material:

Roxy by proxy

1 “Carved in the rock”

2 Inca roads

3 Penguin in bondage

4 T’Mershi Duween

5 Dog breath variations + Uncle Meat

6 RDNZL

7 Village of the sun

8 Echidna’s arf (of you)

9 Don’t you ever wash that thing?

10 Cheepnis - Percussion

11 Cheepnis

12 Dupree’s paradise

13 King Kong + Chunga’s revenge + Mr. Green Genes

All compositions by Frank Zappa.

Album notes by Gail Zappa

Spelunking through Ruth Underwood’s experience guided by the magic and megawattage of her memories on stage with FZ is a revelation unto itself. There is no ticket you could buy or backstage pass issued that would get you this kind of access to the Music of Frank Zappa. Her boundless generosity and willingness to take us her mallets and all brings us extraordinary dimension and clarity to the universe she briefly lived in with FZ’s music as its epicenter. Very few of us get to stand in the shoes of those people onstage with FZ. We are so fortunate to have Ruth as our tour guide from the back row. Ruth was not sleeping ▶. Not onstage.

I took a big chance bringing this to her because first of all this is not a recording we here at UMRK believe FZ would ever release. We think the mixes works in progress at best and the parameters Joe and I had to work around were tricky from the get go. What are these? In the burly darkness of yet another lawsuit we decided to avoid the garni du jour ▶: any source material which could compromise our position. Only stuff separately recorded and not delivered under any contract ever at any time. And we needed to preserve the Soundtrack performances we were reserving for the Movie.

Of course Ruth hated this. Like most band members of the Mothers and others, she did not “hear” all the parts being played onstage. Focus, focus, focus, faster, faster, faster. She never heard preliminary mixes. “Ruth, you have to listen to this. You’re hearing what he heard. If FZ had to listen to this there is no reason why you can’t”. And finally she began listening in the way only she can.

We wanted to share this, warts and all. The rest of the experiment was a wretched failure. I was so hoping to raise the money to bring the Roxy film to you completely independently but alas, it was not to be. Almost every enquiry we received was concerned with making a profit. Only a very loyal few showed up to actually advance the cause. We could not know then the ups, downs, overs, unders, and dwarf nebulae ▶ of endless delays. Thanks to all of you who contributed and thanks to everyone who pre-ordered and then extended their patience to us. And thanks to those who did not but may yet check out this album. I am thankful for everything I gained through this experience - not the least of which is crossing the final frontier. The Roxy Movie has landed.

If you knew what we - me and Frank, me and Joe, me and all the others who ultimately helped to make the Roxy film what it now is knew - you would know how miraculous this process and how transformational it was. Jeff Stein, John Albarian, Bruce Botnick - I bow my head - so in awe and gratitude am I to be witness to this part of the process - from hearing and seeing the performances by these marvelous musicians and their dedication and commitment to FZ and to his music - through the challenge of making manifest the very best of what could be wrestled from the evidence of all that represents this extraordinary event. The Roxy Performances. And by the way, you haven’t heard anything of this yet. This is served as the appetizer. Remain seated. The entree is the Roxy Soundtrack.

This is dedicated to our Distributors / Contributors and FZ Fans of all persuasions. Thanks for showing up and thanks for the opportunity to serve.

We here at UMRK feel it is our duty…

Album notes by Ruth Underwood

When Gail invited me to write notes for this long-awaited recording, I felt tremendously honored and very eager myself to hear this music again. Joe Travers accompanied Gail to my house, but when they put the CD on, I was not prepared for what followed: forty years vanished, and in a flash, my kitchen became the Roxy, and I was filing onto the stage and into the bright lights with my beloved bandmates - and feeling a familiar combination of excitement and terror.

The following week, alone and more focused, I listened a second time to the recording and was equally surprised by the intensity of my reaction: I didn’t like the CD very much and honestly didn’t think it was up to FZ’s standards. In fact, I told Gail that I felt he’d never have considered releasing it. The band was a recently reconfigured ensemble just back from a five-week tour. We had become a family on the road, adjusting to each other in that insulated and confined environment. Now we were back on L.A. turf, reunited with our “real” families. As we scattered in multiple directions to resume our prior roles and routines, not necessarily as easy or natural a process as one might imagine, the dynamic changed. Only a few days later, there we were at the Roxy, presenting new material and some reworked older pieces to a live audience - and dealing with more than the usual issues of balance, equipment inconsistencies, personal distractions and missed notes (many of them mine).

Ultimately, I’m glad Gail listened patiently to my reservations and arguments and disregarded all of them! There is a lot of great music here. Frank loved this band, and I must admit there’s a special essence that comes through and reflects the respect we all had for each other and the great joy we felt in playing this music and being together. I’ve managed to see past the flaws and even embrace the unpolished, unadulterated, honest and down-to-earth quality of the recording. Furthermore, I’ve decided that although it’s not one of the great Zappa CDs, it is one of the most pleasurable ever to listen to, if that makes any sense. I’m finally comfortable with it, and while that’s a word I almost never equated with a Zappa experience, I do now.

I’ll leave it to the historians and musicologists to analyze and ponder the origin and meaning of each note. I prefer to wander back through the years, to this wealth of music, people and memories from so long ago - all very real to me still. Please join me for a glance at this unique gathering, filtered through my perspective from the back row.

It’s been a privilege to relive this with all of you. Thank you for remembering FZ and for keeping his incredible music alive.

For Sherwin Tilton (1952-2008), my dear friend, who shot the “Roxy & Elsewhere” album cover, cared deeply about FZ’s music.

Picture by Sherwin Tilton on “Roxy & Elsewhere” cover

In memory of George Duke (1946-2013), the heart and soul of the band.

Frank, I miss you terribly and always will.

Ongoing thanks to Gail Zappa, Joe Travers and Kurt Morgan.

Additional thanks to my sounding boards: Freddi Komanoff Miceli, Dorian Komanoff Bandy and Malachai Komanoff Bandy.

1. “Carved in the rock”

[Notes by Ruth Underwood] With forty tons of state-of-the-art musical equipment on the move for live performances, there were bound to be mechanical problems that the technical crew needed to address on the spot. In addition, FZ changed band instrumentation and personnel on a regular basis, so audiences were likely to be unfamiliar with some of the musicians on stage. Hearing a brief sample of each player’s setup during the introductions therefore, served a dual purpose: it gave the technical crew and sound mixer a chance to make last-minute adjustments, and it gave the audience an opportunity to meet the musicians at each particular event with a tantalizing glimmer of what was to come.

For the individual performers, these “micro” soundchecks afforded us the chance to transition into one cohesive body. When that occurred, such moments of unity could provide fertile inspiration for FZ’s ever-ready spontaneity and spirit of adventure, and the concert might alter its course before it even began.

The intimate ambience of the Roxy was a welcome change from the vast venues we played at most of the time. Frank was relaxed and in a good mood, bantering with the crowd and ready to get going.

[FZ] Hello, folks!

This thing wiggles too much

Hey, that’s more like it, mm-mm-mmh, yes, OK?

Bruce Fowler on trombone

Napoleon Murphy Brock on tenor sax. And vocals.

Ruth Underwood on percussion

[?] All right!

[FZ] OK

The gong always gets ‘em

Ralph Humphrey on drums

Chester Thompson on drums

Tom Fowler on bass

George Duke on keyboards

Alright. Now uh… let me get myself tuned up and then we’ll do a suave program for you.

(Owen, a shade more sax in the monitor. Just turn it up, a little bit)

[Girl in the audience] Hi, Frank!

[FZ] Hi!

Alright. Well, Ian’s busy. He’s uh… He’s with his parents in uh… uh… (Yugoslavia) Florida. But he’ll be back in town soon, ladies and gentlemen (Yeah!).

Now, we’re gonna open up with some… Hey! Brian Krokus, ladies and gentlemen, right back there! He is our mixer, and of course there’s another mixer out in the truck and you can’t see him but he’s awfully cute, his name is Kerry McNab and he can hear us talking about him, but… well, you’re missing the best part of what’s going out… on out in the truck.

We’re gonna open our program with a song that deals with the subject of the possibility of extraterrestrial beings visiting this planet a long time ago.

Now, some of you might have read a book called “Chariots Of The Gods” by Erich Von Däniken, and there’s a little thing in there, it’s a picture of this area in the Andes called the plains of Nazca, ladies and gentlemen.

Nazca lines

And there’s these carvings on the top of the rock that you don’t know what they’re supposed to be for. A— It doesn’t look like it would have been a road, because it doesn’t go anywhere, and there’s a bunch of ‘em, and some people think, well, maybe it was a landing field. But the carvings are very, very old and they’re very, very big, you know, indicating that the people who made them were highly uh… well, they were… heh heh… they really had their… together for the things that carved in the rock.

And it’s possible that if they were landing fields, that the things that landed on them were NOT OF THIS EARTH!

And so we have a song, which features the lovely voice of Mr. George Duke, and the name of this song is “Inca roads”. Take it away, George.

2. Inca roads

[Notes by Ruth Underwood] Frank revised and reorchestrated much of his music to suit each ensemble or tour, though the core of the piece usually was unchanged. This particular rendition of “Inca roads” is very civilized, even sedate, in tempo, mood and lyric content - no “Guacamole Queen”, “Armadillo in Austin, Texas” or “Chester’s Thing” here or in FZ’s mind at the time. The marimba’s “dreaded sevens” are still simple, notated runs and not yet the cause of sleepless nights - that would come a few months later. For now, Frank’s meticulous manuscript looked very non-threatening. There wasn’t even a lyric yet, just the simple meter changes every measure, reminding me of music by one of Frank’s great influences: the Strav.

FZ often made fun of me for hauling around a bulky suitcase bursting with every possible kind of mallet, stick and beater. While he wasted no opportunity to mock this and my other conservatory habits, he seemed to enjoy choosing specific ones in my collection for a special sound or effect. On this recording, I’m using Billy Dorn mallets, which were hard to find. Frank Ippolito, of the legendary Professional Percussion Shop in N.Y.C., used to save Dorn mallets for me when a pair randomly turned up in the shop. FZ loved these in particular because they had a velvety-soft quality when played with moderate pressure, but made a splendid, clattering racket when applied to those all-important accents. I retired them in 1974, when the escalated tempo required smaller and lighter ones, but I still think of those dark-blue Billy Dorn mallets as my “Inca roads” mallets.

It’s impossible to imagine there was ever a time when George Duke was reluctant to sing: he’s just so good at it! In the opening, with his vocal / piano-lounge stylings, I challenge you to listen without laughing. George himself struggles to hold it in. It’s so absurd (those words! those intervals! that manner!), yet he enunciates everything so clearly and even manages to do it all in one breath.

In 1973, not many bands were playing music in odd meters and making it swing! With Ralph (the master of the odd meters) on drum set, Chester on hand-held cowbell (as opposed to the array of tuned cowbells) and Tom equally comfortable in 7/8 on bass, George has a perfect backing rhythm section during his solo. Catch the theme when George fleetingly revisits it toward the end of the solo - although it’s a traditional practice, I fall for it every time and get a rush of pleasure.

The abrupt transition from George’s solo to Bruce’s is actually one of Frank’s hand signals. As time passed, his signals became more elaborate. What you hear now is a measure of 16th notes from “Dupree’s paradise”, slowed down and played four times in a row. You’ll hear it often in this program and begin to recognize it. When Frank grew bored with that, he devised a new hand signal of the same figure, but played in triplets and only once through at a time. You’ll hear that later as well. See why we had to have at least one eye on him at all times?

Bruce’s trombone solo is typical of his virtuosity with its energy, passion, graceful phrasing and harmonic language. After multiple hearings I can appreciate the logic fueling his daring forays into extended musical realms, but I won’t kid you - sometimes it takes more effort for me to get inside Bruce’s head, yet it’s always worth it. This CD was a revelation for me where Bruce is concerned. I realize now that except for his solos, I spent night after night on stage with him and didn’t hear ninety percent of what he played! As I think about it, I believe this was not only due to monitor placement and balance, but more to his flawless ensemble playing. He had difficult, if not impossible, passages in unison with other instruments, and his round, mellow tone may have blended a bit too well. So, thirty-nine years late: Hello, Bruce, welcome to my ears! It’s so good to hear you now!

At Frank’s cue, Ralph and I enter with the sped-up measures of the 7/8 section in the notated core of the piece, Ralph on tuned cowbells while I’m on marimba. My own playing on this recording is uncharacteristically relaxed to the point where it takes me a couple of measures to sync up with the rhythm section. This was a fluke, because by nature, I play in front of the beat. (The following year, at this moment in the music, there is no front of the beat - it’s just a blur!)

We have another chance to enjoy George’s vocal, and then we’re home. The pass around my percussion set-up from vibraphone to marimba, through the “small percussion” (as FZ called it: two bongos, a piccolo snare and field drum), to the two timps and finally to the concert bass drum, was much easier to play than it may have looked. Frank told me the harmony he wanted and had me break up the chords and distribute the notes over all of the instruments within the allotted time. I chose to play a less challenging pattern in this case, focusing instead on the far greater concern: to avoid tripping over the tangle of cables and gaffers tape on the floor!

George’s whistling at the very end is a nice touch and harkens back to his opening, putting a charming and casual spin once again to what has been a formidable compositional and technical feat band-wide.

[George Duke] That’s right, honey

[FZ] Simply atmospheric introduction

[George Duke] Did a vehicle come from somewhere out there

Just to land in the Andes?

Was it round and did it have a motor

Or was it something different?

Did a vehicle

Did a vehicle, did a vehicle

Fly along the mountains

And find a place to park itself?

Or did someone build a place

To leave a space

For such a thing to land?

Thank you, honey

Did a vehicle come from somewhere out there? Did a vehicle

[FZ] (Her nipples are standing up now)

[George Duke] Come from somewhere out there? Did the Indians, first on the bill, carve up the hill?

Did a vehicle come from somewhere out there

Just to land in the Andes?

Was it round and did it have a motor

Or was it something different?

Did a vehicle

Did a vehicle, did a vehicle

Fly along the mountains

And find a place to park itself?

Or did someone build a place

Or leave a space

For such a thing to land?

Did a vehicle come from somewhere out there?

Did the Indians, first on the bill, carve up the hill?

[Instrumental]

[George Duke] Did a vehicle come from somewhere out there

Just to land in the Andes?

Was it round and did it have a motor

Or was it something different?

Did a vehicle

Did a vehicle, did a vehicle

Fly along the mountains

And find a place to park itself?

Or did someone build a place

Or leave a space

For such a thing to land?

Did a vehicle come from somewhere out there?

Did the Indians, first on the bill, carve up the hill?

[FZ] Thank you! Thank you very much. Thank you, and thank you. OK. Now, as some of you may know Hollywood is the best of all possible worlds, I mean, this is where it’s all happening, you understand? See, it’s really great here and it’s a… and it’s a… it’s so… it’s so wonderful to be in Hollywood, to live here and to be a part of this community and everything, because there’s so many perverts in it, you know? And pervert… perverts help to make normal people look good, and so… just remember that, whenever you see somebody who is perverted. But for our friends in the pervert world we have this song which is called “Penguin in bondage”. And you know what I mean, don’t you?

This is really a funky one, you know what I mean

3. Penguin in bondage

[Notes by Ruth Underwood] There is something so compelling and expressive about the way Frank sings this, that I am drawn into the drama and imagery without really understanding much of it! The structure and harmony are very straightforward, but the orchestration is exquisitely transparent and atmospheric, with surprising combinations of instruments and loud bursts of musical colors that fade as quickly as they appear. There’s a sense that time is suspended, and I find myself pleasantly disoriented. I appreciate the studied, well-considered features: the choked cymbal crash at the end of the phrase (whimsical the first time, but more comical as it repeats), the piercing cowbell strikes, the trombone’s plaintive cries and moans, the sounds from the synthesizer and flexatone, the welcome lushness of the three-part harmony in the vocals, the shock of the marimba’s loud glissando to the high D on the word “shrieking”, and most unsettling of all, the sense that while I’m feeling emotionally captivated by the poetry in the lyric, it’s all just tongue-in-cheek after all - FZ’s standard operating procedure.

In the middle of all this, there’s Frank’s hard-driving guitar solo for two choruses on simple blues changes, with strong support from the rhythm section. It’s a very satisfying contrast from the rest of the song’s enigmatic quality.

[FZ] She’s just like a penguin in bondage, boy

Oh yeah oh yeah oh

Way over on the wet side of the bed

Just like the mighty penguin

Flappin’ her eight ounce wings

(Bring the band on down behind me, boys)

Lord, you know it’s all over

If she come atcha on the strut & wrap ‘em all around your head

Flappin’ her eight ounce wings, flappinumm

She’s just like a penguin in bondage, boy

Shake up the pale-dry ginger ale

Tremblin’ like a penguin when the battery fail

(You know when the battery goes out in the vibrator and everything?)

Lord, you must be havin’ her jumpin’ through a hoopa real fire ▶

With some Kleenex wrapped around a coat-hang wire

[Instrumental]

She’s just like a penguin in bondage, boy

Oh yeah oh yeah oh

Howlin’ over to some antarcticulated moon

In the frostbite nite with her flaps gone white

Shriekin’ as she spot the hoop across the room

(Good God, she spot the hoop again)

You know it must be a penguin bound down

If you hear that terrible screamin’ and there ain’t no other birds around

She’s just like a penguin in bondage, boy

Oh yeah oh yeah oh

She’s just like a penguin in bondage, boy

Oh yeah oh yeah oh

Aw, you must be careful not to leave her straps too loose

‘Cause she just might box yer dog

An’ leave you a dried-up dog biscuit…

[FZ] The name of this song is “T’Mershi Duween”, a bongo number

4. T’Mershi Duween

[Notes by Ruth Underwood] For the opening, Frank wanted to add the unique flavor of the bongos, piccolo snare and field drum in my section to both drum sets, so I got to play drums with Ralph and Chester! As an added perk, this was one of the less challenging compositions for me to play, so I could bask in the glory of Frank’s deftly inventive orchestration and yet participate in the frenzied energy and excitement at close range.

The repetitive ascending tonal and rhythmic patterns are written in 5/8, but at such a fast tempo, they can begin to stray to a 6/8 feel. I often noticed this years ago, and also now as I listen to this recording. I know we played it correctly, because we always paid careful attention and subdivided like crazy. Interestingly, I’m aware that other musicians who’ve played the same section of music have had a similar issue.

I always felt a kinship with this piece - it’s in my genes. I go mad when I hear those open fourths and fifths advancing ominously in the lower instruments, the crotale effect of plastic mallets striking metal bars, the bone-rattling jolt of the upper-register marimba, the intrusion of the cowbells, the tuned ones played with finesse, but the Swiss ones with clappers shaken flamboyantly, the oompah, oompah, oompah, oompah of the trombone, with bass, inviting that unsettling overlay of meters, the chromatic bassline, “walking” in both directions. I get such an Eastern European rush, and orchestral music of the early 1900s comes to mind - some Mussorgsky, Rimsky-Korsakov and a dose of early Stravinsky - and wild, nocturnal rituals and celebrations.

[Instrumental]

5. Dog breath variations + Uncle Meat

[Notes by Ruth Underwood] The “Dog breath variations” and “Uncle Meat” have traditionally been paired together, and this performance is no exception. They are quite dissimilar, but compatible none the less.

Between October ‘67 and February ‘68 at Apostolic Studios in N.Y.C., Frank had access to the latest recording technology and was able to create incredible multi-layered richness. “Dog breath variations” is one of the most divinely lyrical pieces he ever composed. If you are familiar with the “Uncle Meat” album, you’ll understand why I say the music is delicate and refined, with graceful, flowing lines so sweepingly romantic they almost beg to be sung. There, the sound of the Gibson organ, with its wavering, vocal quality, takes on an operatic essence and is unforgettably affecting.

When I revisited that recording recently, I was once again deeply moved and also struck by its world of contrast from the “Roxy” performances. In 1973, we were an ensemble of eight musicians, three of us drummer / percussionists (four, if we include FZ), presenting this music live and on the road. Although Frank couldn’t reproduce what he’d accomplished on the studio album five years earlier, he still managed to make this gorgeous music sing again - but differently.

First, he allowed me to play anything I wanted, which was heaven for me! Having worn the LP down to nothing over the years, I loved and knew this piece intimately. I simply combined everything I could possibly play into one part, and when Frank didn’t complain, that was that. With my sound as a constant, he employed ever-changing combinations of the instruments at hand to help carry the themes along: trombone with vibes, piano with guitar, trombone with marimba, tuned cowbells with marimba, trombone with synthesizer, Napoleon’s flute or tenor sax joining any of these pairings.

To achieve more variety, musicians might switch registers or add some subtle ornamentation. Bruce provided one of my favorite moments on this CD with his fast double tonguing to match the texture of the marimba’s rolled “double stops” at one of the repeats. I just can’t get over that! With Tom’s occasionally cycling bassline, a nice foil for the drums as they navigate the meter changes, there’s a lot of musical interest. To be sure, some of the luminous and rhapsodic element I was so attracted to is lost, but there’s an energy in its place that is irresistible.

At the point in the “Dog breath variations” when the tuned cowbells first enter, Frank would set aside his guitar and join me in the percussion section for the remainder of this piece, through “Uncle Meat” in its entirety and into the opening of “RDNZL”, which sometimes followed immediately, as it does on this recording. I can still see him making his way across the stage and looking like no one else, his walk simultaneously sinuous and angular. Approaching the “small percussion”, he’d barely slow down to grab the snare drum sticks I’d leave for him in the same precise place each time. And now, half the band was playing drums and percussion!

Ruth Underwood and FZ

Chester kept the perfect groove through the meter changes, Ralph followed the contour of the melodic themes on tuned cowbells, adding drum punctuation and fills, and Frank expanded all of it, offering another dimension of artistry with explosive drum punches and a creative distribution of “the missing notes” that only he could conjure, on the bongos, field drum and piccolo snare. He would often vary his part and sometimes not play anything at all for several measures to alter the density of sound before resuming. At times, he looked relaxed, his mood completely transformed. Buried deep within the section and hardly visible to the audience, Frank was in his own world, yet always aware of and attentive to the whole.

As the “Dog breath variations” draws to a close and seems to float away, it’s replaced by a four-bar vamp, which firmly continues the 3/4 meter that ushers in “Uncle Meat”. During this vamp between pieces, Frank would “reset” himself, looking at his percussion instruments in the section, sometimes fleetingly glancing around at the rest of the band and readying himself for the next challenge.

“Uncle Meat” is far less complicated than the “Dog breath variations”. It is essentially a mallet piece with support from all the other instruments, even the bass (that doubles the melody in the last half of the repeated main theme). Except for a brief disruption in the Coda later, the meter remains 3/4 throughout. Chester and Ralph keep their drum parts sparse and even primitive, with only a few fills and well-placed syncopations, allowing the marimba to be heard and giving Frank room for his unique music-making. When he extends his melodic scope to the timpani and concert bass drum, the snare drum sticks still held in the so-called traditional grip, the effect is very untraditional! Also, the timbre of the tightly tuned bongos and treble of the piccolo snare drum, especially the last notes Frank plays at the end of the piece, hint at and take me back to the surprising character of the percussion sounds he produced on that “Uncle Meat” album years ago. I have no idea whether that is intentional on Frank’s part, but I enjoy making the connection.

At this point on the CD, the sound of the marimba is quite dry and muffled, like tapping on a table, and I was baffled when I heard it. In May 1973, we had bought one of the first Musser kelon marimbas while we were in Chicago on tour. Kelon (a fiber glass product with a greenish color, later painted brown for cosmetic purposes) had just been developed for a more durable and resonant product than wood - somewhere between a standard rosewood marimba and a vibraphone. We loved it, ordered one and had it prepared for the next tours. Joe Travers explained to me recently that all the percussion in my section for the Roxy event was recorded on a singular mono track. It’s a pity the marimba lacks brilliance, particularly in this piece where it is so wonderfully featured.

It’s evident throughout the entire recording that Frank gave the marimba and vibraphone very unusual prominence, elevating them to the same stature and importance as the other melodic instruments. By assigning them real musical muscle, and not merely the conventional role of “icing on the cake” or comedic sound effects, he achieved something extremely rare, especially within the rock band context. In “Dog / Meat”, his physical presence next to me drove that home.

[Instrumental]

6. RDNZL

[Notes by Ruth Underwood] All I can say is: “Watch out and stand back!” Even in this relatively sane version, “RDNZL” packs a powerhouse wallop and knocks me out! I have a palpable reaction to the rapid-fire bursts of energy, and I remember actually being one of those tightly-wound coils flying off in every direction, each of us at different times and all of us on the verge of some kind of nervous breakdown - but in a good way.

The construction of this piece is simple and ingenious (but you may not care, so blown away you’ll be by the force of the music as you listen). In a nutshell, “RDNZL” has two main melodic themes: the first one occurs right after the opening eight bars and is fast, the second one comes right after Frank’s guitar solo, on cue, and is slow. At this point, there’s a scored middle section of contrasting character - style, sound, mood, meter - followed by controlled mayhem, before things are off and running again. The previous two main melodic themes return, but they have flipped: now the second one comes first, after George’s solo has ended, on cue, and is fast (with drum fills), then the first one returns and is slow, deliberate and insistent. It takes us to the end, except for a momentary reprise of planned havoc, and to the concluding note. Additionally, mention should be made of the ubiquitous, syncopated rhythm that frames portions of the music. It is used as a framing and transitional device but it contributes appropriate manic urgency throughout.

When we had the luxury of a civilized count-off to start “RDNZL”, Frank would yell: “One, one, one, one”, and we’d have time to prepare. Each “one” indicated one measure and thus established the tempo (You can hear him count “RDNZL” off that way on “YCDTOSA Volume 2” and on “King Kong” on this ‘Roxy’ CD). When “RDNZL” followed “Uncle Meat” immediately, as it does here, I saw only the conducted downbeat, and then it was every man for himself!

Frank had wanted a suitably flashy opening, and he let me figure out something for the vibraphone to play in the starting G tonality. That very fast run, an arpeggiated Zappa G2 chord, was an attempt to supply the glittery magnificence the piece deserved, a sort of royal fanfare. As usual, I suggested the hardest mallets for the most brilliant splash - it didn’t occur to me right then just how treacherous this could be at breakneck speed, not to mention with the blinding reflection of the stage lights on the vibraphone’s silver metal bars. I was really exposed, and, well, sometimes I nailed it, and sometimes I didn’t, but the times I did made it worth the risk.

Frank’s use of augmentation and diminution (altering note values of a theme within a specific meter or pulse) was one of his favorite techniques and works to spectacular effect here. Other memorable examples can be heard in “Inca roads” (those sevens), the “Uncle Meat” on “YCDTOSA Volume 2” (toward the end) and in “Big Swifty” (in the out-chorus section) on “YCDTOSA Volume 1”.

“RDNZL” showcases the virtuosity of the band members, and the solos are exceptional. Bruce’s is the first and is appropriately frenetic and crazed at times, only to soar gloriously, landing on perfect notes at the top of his range in between relapses into frenzy, before subsiding as Frank’s solo begins.

I never tire of FZ’s guitar solos. At the very least, they’re always logical, well shaped and interestingly conceived mini compositions that hold together and make sense to me, but at their most sublime, they rip my heart out! This one doesn’t disappoint, with its use of the lower range and single-line patterns which progress to higher ground and, building in heat and intensity, erupt into sparks of notes everywhere, keeping the excitement way up… to then simmer down for the cued ensemble sections.

Napoleon’s solo emerges from the controlled mayhem I mentioned earlier. Although it is very short and serves more as a transition to George’s solo, I can imagine Guy Lombardo, Motorhead, Bunk and Ian looking on approvingly and inspiring him. It couldn’t be better - that agitated wide vibrato, those annoying little deranged notes maintaining the high energy, even as they drop in pitch and give way to George’s solo.

George closes in and surrounds Napoleon’s falling notes with the cushiony-soft Fender Rhodes and then, holding the tenor sax’s relinquished energy, takes off on synthesizer like a released bird flying this way and that, wildly happy and hyper, propelled and buoyed by Tom’s nimble dancing fingers on bass, one of the high points on this CD for me, and Ralph’s incredibly refined drumming, which has kept this piece percolating and pulsating throughout.

In 1974, Frank added even more drama with a tutti ascending, musical surge in the eight measures preceding the final statement of the theme. It too can be heard on “YCDTOSA Volume 2”, if you are curious. It’s the only thing I miss here.

This “RDNZL” is a tour de force, and the band served it well.

[Instrumental]

[FZ] Thank you

(Brian, can you turn the horns up some more in this… this monitor box down here? What? It’s not in that one up there. It was? Alright, turn a little bit up in the… in the upper horns too. Bruce is having trouble hearing himself)

I’d like to dedicate this next song to uh… John and Nellie Wilson, because the— they probably know what this song is about, better than anybody else in this room. The name of this song is “The village of the sun”.

7. Village of the sun

[Notes by Ruth Underwood] During my time touring in Frank’s bands, “Village of the sun” paused just long enough in its continual evolution to settle into three essential versions, the one on this CD is the second of the three. It combines some of the reflective and balladic quality of the original (sung by George in the Ian / Jean-Luc band earlier in 1973) with hints of the energy and musical complexity yet to come (in a revved-up rendition sung by Napoleon in the six-member band of 1974). This arrangement at the Roxy is so balanced and satisfying - and also especially welcome, positioned between two long series of instrumentals - that you may find yourself lulled by its easy mellowness. Please, look deeper into the music’s rich nuances and the personal imagery of the lyric. “Village of the sun”, in only three minutes and twenty-four seconds, can be an endlessly revelatory and powerful journey. I loved it from the very first day, and my appreciation has grown deeper as the years have passed.

Today I am looking at the actual vibraphone part Frank handed to me at rehearsal forty years ago, and I’m struck again by the same surprises that jump off the page, exactly as they did on that first day, still vivid in my memory… with sheet music in hand, I had slowly begun to make my way back to the vibraphone, studying the part as I walked. Scanning it quickly, I was taken as much by what wasn’t there as by what was: there were none of the minefields that were often lurking in Frank’s notes! In fact, things looked easily playable, and the writing so sparse that it would have seemed incomplete were it not for the detailed phrasing and articulation markings for every note. The meter was 4/4 throughout, unusual for FZ, and there appeared to be changing elements every two measures.

My part began with major and minor triads moving in parallel motion, somewhat modal, perhaps a chorale, the next two measures continued along that idea, but starting a half step lower, creating many accidentals (here, flats), the following two bars were more chromatic, with sharps as well as flats, and introduced four-note chords for greater dissonance and harmonic movement, finally, the density relaxed into the openness and strong pull toward a traditional cadence, though it was a l-IV-V half-cadence, ending on the dominant, and not a fully satisfying resolution to the tonic.

Then, half way through, I realized with a start that, so far, there had been a total absence of “Zappa 2” chords - triads without major or minor thirds, and built instead on the 1st, 2nd, and 5th degrees of the diatonic scale - the very chords that had always attracted me to FZ’s music and that gave it such a distinctive sound.

Continuing my cursory examination of the part revealed four measures that brought back the first material, but Frank had now dispensed with the triads and used octaves instead, another rarity in FZ’s notated mallet parts (an exception being “Big Swifty” and “Big Swifty out-chorus”): after the octaves came upper-register chords, moving chromatically, with a strong flavor of jazz harmony and leading to a more consonant and even comforting repeated two-bar figure, containing a major seventh chord and a lower-register syncopated figure, perhaps doubling a bass part, the final six measures of the piece recalled the triads, the four-note chords and the octaves, en route to the cadence, but more unusual things were evident: an F-G-C chord caught my eye, though I soon determined it to be more a 4-3 suspension resolving to a C Major triad than a functioning “Zappa 2” in that context, for seven and a half beats there was a full-fledged F Major seventh chord - in an FZ composition, the final cadence was again, a half-cadence, ending on the dominant and refusing to resolve, there I sensed an almost gospel feel to the notes on the page.

To sum up, without having played a note of my part, I realized how wrong I was to regard that humble sheet of music as sparse or incomplete… it was actually very full, originating as a hymn or chorale, moving on through contemporary jazz harmony and dissolving into a more accessible and comfortable gospel feel. Feeling somewhat caught off balance, I was now ready to play and hear “Village of the sun” with the other instruments.

As it turned out, the sheet of music I’ve just described was not the entire song. Frank composed another section for it, but there was never anything written down. His new segment was a bridge, and then we were to repeat the original material, making the structure of the piece standard song form (two sections, similar in content, and connected by a bridge by new or contrasting material or, to put it even more simply, ABA form). In the early days of rehearsing this piece, Frank also created a beautifully orchestrated introduction, but it was sacrificed in favor of the more casual one on this recording.

All the elements I’ve noted have been used by most composers through the ages, and certainly Frank himself had utilized many of them before and after “Village of the sun”, but to me, the presence of all of these within its modest length is what produced such astonishing freshness and disarming sweetness and set this song apart from his others works.

Here are some of my many favorite moments in this performance:

- Frank’s dedication of the song, which sets a personal tone before one note is played

- Frank’s use of “The” as he announces the song, which gives a dignified formality and importance to the piece (I don’t remember hearing him ever do that again after the Roxy)

- Frank’s introduction of the song, which gets no reaction from the audience who’d never heard it or of it before this performance

- Napoleon’s saying “Farmdale” twice, instead of “Palmdale” - the song was still new to him too!

- George’s silken voice with Napoleon’s edgier timbre, a nice combination

- Tom’s extraordinary bass part! Besides blending in as a comfortable background presence and also providing necessary rhythmic support and punches, Tom’s part is as melodically complex and interesting as the sung melody, and I could listen to just that all day! When he’s doubling the composed vocal line, or briefly joining FZ’s guitar part, or buoyantly hopping up to the higher register (Tom’s idea), my heart beats faster, and sometimes I’m even reminded of the great James Jamerson.

- Chester’s perfect groove, as always. Those simple three notes leading back to the A section, after the bridge… what can I say?

- Ralph’s tambourine playing - sensitive and informed, and elevating its role to “hand-held drum set”

- Frank’s guitar licks, which comment and energize and hold the sentimental mood in check

- FZ’s scored unison bass and marimba during the syncopated figure and throughout the bridge - one of his favorite and frequently used colors

- the bridge itself and its completely different character - we may be aware of Frank’s anticipation about going back to Sun Village, and some of his thoughts and feelings, but in the bridge section, we’re there! The music changes dramatically: the hi-hat beat is quite startling, and suddenly we feel the tempo of the city… the people, restaurants, Palmdale Blvd., the nightlife… and, in a brilliant stroke, Frank writes a long syncopation on “stumblers gonna go”, lengthening the time and then inserting two extra beats, with a noticeably loud and fast tuned cowbells pattern on the first of those beats, creating a stumbling effect in the midst of the existing groove. It occurs twice and throws us off balance too.

- the juxtaposition of cool and hot in the vibraphone and clavinet. Several months ago, I told Gail that I regarded the vibraphone as the soul of the piece (it was always there in its original composed state, except for the most subtle rhythmic adjustments to conform to the variety of settings). Sometimes it was barely audible, but it was a cool, shimmering presence nonetheless. She responded by describing an impression she’d had many years ago of rippling waves of heat rising from the pavement, visible from the car when she and Frank would drive toward Sun Village. Now, when I listen to the song, George’s clavinet is that heat.

Frank always said he didn’t write love songs - that he didn’t believe in them - but I feel that “Village of the sun” is clearly and undeniably a love song, full of longing, connection, memories and fear of loss. The visual picture of the Sun Village he paints with words is very detailed and realistic, and therefore so much more interesting than an idealized account would be. As ever, his eyes are wide open, and he is honest and direct: there’s no sarcasm, cynicism or parody here. Frank reveals a part of himself usually reserved for only those closest to him, and we, having been privileged to glimpse something so private and rare, want to protect and care for it.

“Village of the sun” is a masterpiece. I’m glad I will never know what John and Nellie Wilson knew about the song and its actual meaning. I’m drawn to its universal theme and the elegiac image of Frank’s journey home (as I imagine it). Sometimes I find myself on my own pilgrimage, to that bittersweet and almost unbearably sad and beautiful place inside.

Then, I hit the repeat button one more time…

[Napoleon Murphy Brock] Goin’ back home to the village of the sun

Out in back of Farmdale, where the turkey farmers run

I done made up my mind and I know I’m gonna go to Sun

Village, good God, I hope the wind don’t blow

It take the paint off your car and wreck your windshield too

I don’t know how the people stand it, but I guess they do

‘Cause they’re all still there (even Johnny Franklin too)

In the village of the sun, well

Village of the sun

Oh, the village of the sun, son

(Sun Village to you-ooo ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo)

Little Mary, and Teddy, and Thelma too, now

Where Palmdale Boulevard, woh, cuts on through

Past the Village Inn, baby, & Barbecue now, yeah

(I heard it ain’t there… well, I hope it ain’t true)

Where the stumblers gonna go to watch the lights turn blue?

Goin’ back home to the village of the sun

Out in back of Farmdale, where the turkey farmers run

I just made up my mind and I know I’m gonna go to Sun

Village, good God, I hope the wind don’t blow

It take the paint off your car and wreck your windshield too

I don’t know how the people stand it, but I guess they do

‘Cause they’re all still there (even Johnny Franklin too)

In the village of the sun, oh

Village of the sun

The village of the sun, son

(Sun Village to you, you-ooo-ooo-ooo, oh yeah, yeah!)

8. Echidna’s arf (of you)

[Notes by Ruth Underwood] Unlike my part in “Village of the sun”, the four sections of music strung together with this title (formerly “Excentrifugal forz”) were not written down and handed out in rehearsal. Frank decided to organize them this way, and somehow it worked. They evolved from motifs perhaps already in his mind, but some were patterns he worked out on guitar at soundchecks, or while waiting for equipment repairs and even during his solos in concerts. He would become fixated on a grouping of notes or chords, playing them at every opportunity for days and even weeks, until they began to take shape to him - and be recognizable to us.

Consequently, when a composition would emerge this way, we each began to accumulate endless scraps of manuscript paper with our own notations of the notes he would feed us - and that might spontaneously change at any time. When I spoke to Tom recently about his part, he told me he still had a notebook full of these musical fragments (I said that mine were in a folder packed away in my library closet, we shared a warm chuckle over that). I suppose anyone who’s ever played in FZ’s bands has his own collection of similar roadmaps, as I call them.

My conversation with Tom inspired me to hunt for whatever I had for this piece, and I wish you could see it! Cross-outs, brackets, geometric shapes, arrows, “2nd X ONLY”s, “8VA”s, indications with colored markers highlighting this and that and growing more bold and desperate when those too were altered. My title at the top read “XC FORTS” (I’d never seen it spelled, so I didn’t know). The whole monstrosity ▶ brought Dorian Gray’s picture to mind, because the audience got to enjoy a seamless and elegantly crafted piece of music, transformed from our scarred, fractured, distorted and crumpled markings!

What a shock it must have been in 1973 for a listener to hear the beginning of this work. With its simple vamp intro, not unlike a lot of music of the day, it suddenly interrupted itself with unusual sounds and timbre pairings and combinations, accents, and a meter overlay of eleven-note patterns cycling over the even time (Mathematically, it would be inevitable for these two juxtaposed patterns to align at the end of the phrase, but it was always a relief when it did). It’s still a shock. The antiphonal portions are hair-raising and display FZ’s imaginative orchestration within a limited context. And all the while, four-handed George works his one-man-band magic, playing whatever’s needed - flourishes, glissandos, virtuosic doublings - and changing colors and effects on a dime.

The hemiola section has more delights in store. After the four repeated phrases with antiphonal response, keep your ear on Tom’s bass part! You’ll hear him play a long, descending chromatic scale and then switch direction to ascend via a whole-tone scale. Soon after, he covers a long range span again, but this time ascending in minor thirds (diminished seventh arpeggios) before descending the same way. I didn’t realize years ago that he had come up with that himself. He’s still proud of how perfectly he was able to make it all fit, and it is great.

These pieces have a captivating split-personality, with the “normal” (even meters) and the “weird” (odd meters) vying for the upper hand and dominating at different times. It’s an exciting, energetic, fascinating and forceful contest, with every instrument participating and giving its all. When the final section begins and is entirely in five, with accented patterns and runs charging and leaping jubilantly, the odd meters prevail and win the day! How I wish that could have lasted longer. It was a glorious experience to play lead and slam out those accents with everything I had. In my heart, they were the joints connecting and defining Frank’s musical bones, and without them, I’m telling you, it’s just not Frank Zappa.

[Instrumental]

9. Don’t you ever wash that thing?

[Notes by Ruth Underwood] If the final section of “Echidna’s arf” couldn’t continue any longer, this tune was the perfect vehicle in which to carry its potent vitality and take it even further! Previously performed by the magnificent Petite Wazoo in 1972, “Don’t you ever wash that thing?” was now about to undergo dramatic changes with a complete reorchestration, altered meters and a faster tempo, however, it would ultimately attain extreme heights of zaniness because of two fanciful notions spontaneously tossed around one day in a casual conversation.

We were all sitting quietly at rehearsal, relaxing during a break, functioning at varying levels of overload from working hard and being holed up together for so long. A congenial group, we had a lot of fun at these sessions. At some point, Frank suggested we split the theme at specific places and insert five-beat drum fills into these measured intervals. We had a bit of a laugh imagining this new plan. Soon we were in a boisterous mood, and some of us chimed in with our own proposals. By the time Ralph offered his stroke of brilliance - to eliminate the drum fills altogether at the repeat, and have only silence during those gaps - we were truly manic and laughing uncontrollably. When I looked over at Frank to check his reaction to all our merriment, he was in his chair, one leg crossed over the other at the knee, the guitar still in his lap, his head cocked to one side, his face wildly contorted and his mouth wide open and seemingly stuck in what Gail calls a “silent laugh”. I’ll never forget the way he looked.

Ralph’s idea also stuck! On this CD you can clearly hear Frank keeping time with his foot during the “silences”, which also helped us stay together (Our challenge intensified at venues with carpeted stages, where his foot-taps were no longer audible). He delighted in compounding the difficulty by giving us other tasks to perform within the allotted time, such as pretending to comb our hair (think Kookie, on “77 Sunset Strip”) or turning completely around before resuming our parts. FZ enjoyed trying to derail me personally during the “Watch Ruth” segment, and frequently changed what he said or how he said it, his entertaining shtick often made it harder for me to concentrate on counting than to play the written lick itself.

Many musical influences collide pleasingly in this jocular tune. For one thing, I like to think that the flashy novelty music I played for Frank on marimba one day in rehearsal may have inspired him, the master synthesist, to write this piece. Secondly, Dweezil has described an aspect of Frank’s music as “cartoonesque”, and there’s a wonderful example of that in Frank’s use of a phrase he borrowed from “Penguin in bondage”. Here, it occurs twice, in two series of three times each, and is quite grotesquely presented, to great effect. Also worthy of note are the rhythms that strongly reference vaudeville, Big Band era dance music, and even some pre-1960 American musicals. Ralph’s refined drumming, with cut-time syncopations and emphasis of the off-beats on the cymbals, stylistically contributes so much in that direction - and don’t you “hear” tap-dancing in those tuned cowbells and drum fills? As is so often the case, it required as much or more precision and skill to maintain the high musical standards in a composition like this as it did to execute FZ’s so-called “serious” music.

Bruce produces another stellar solo, backed by reliably attentive support. Frank had asked me to play the harmonic changes for the second choruses in both Bruce’s and George’s solos. Because of the downward chromatic pull of the bassline, I voiced the chords in as static a fashion as possible to create some contrast. Trying to emulate the old-time, tinny upright-piano sound, I used the “smash / decay” technique (not a legitimate musical term). It was crazy! When the marimba entered both times, Frank’s head would start bopping enthusiastically. I got the impression he liked that one effect more than all the technically daunting, written parts I’d slaved over - combined!

By the time George’s piano solo is in progress, we’re feeling the urgency, energy and heat. George has the uncanny gift of being able to assimilate everything going on around him, and by infusing it with his own unique musical empathy and joyful spirit, he transforms and brings us all together. When his soulful and perfectly conceived ascending diatonic octaves lead us into the second chorus (catch his momentary reference to the theme), I’m in a state of bliss, the syncopated notes are dancing brightly on the cymbal dome, and Frank is happy. There’s nothing better than this.

[Instrumental]

[FZ] Ladies and gentlemen

Watch Ruth!

All during our program

Ruth has been thinking:

“What can I do that’ll be fantastic?”

Something nice for the camera, I hope, Ruth, show ‘em a little something

[Instrumental]

10. Cheepnis - Percussion

[Notes by Ruth Underwood] “Don’t you ever wash that thing?” usually transitioned into an explosive drum extravaganza following George’s piano solo, and really, what else could it have done? To my thinking, that moment of virtuosic release heralded a shift in the live shows, away from the tightly structured music to a looser, free-form atmosphere. The drums and percussion interlude provided an effective backdrop for Frank’s musical inspiration.

When Ralph was the sole drummer, Frank would often join in on percussion himself. If not, he’d control my involvement with his expressive hand gestures, sometimes from his usual position on stage or by coming close to my set-up and pointing very specifically, indicating his desired sounds - essentially “playing” me. As always, FZ would oversee everyone and everything, and with the pre-established hand signals, create wonderful ensemble effects, virtually composing on the spot. He might change direction completely and play a blues guitar solo or engage the audience in spontaneous activities. If we did return to the scored ending of “DYEWTT”, it was to a diminutive, stately and austere work of art in waltz time, restrained and robotic, dissonant and hypnotic, and so unexpected, given the preceding festivities.

(This little composition, functioning as a coda, was a little gem in ABA form, only about a minute in length, but absolutely unforgettable. The B section was a Hindemith-type chorale played on the Fender Rhodes and vibraphone, and was delicate and sweet and utterly gorgeous! The “Roxy & Elsewhere” recording retained only the last third of it - after the return of the A section - but at least you can get a taste of a part of it. Perhaps a full rendition will be released in the future).

At this performance, Frank called upon his two spectacular drummers for solos. It was a perfect opportunity to showcase their prodigious technical abilities and introduce the audience to the new member of the section, hidden in the back: Chester. Ralph and Chester were very different in background, musical training and personality, and their distinctly different artistic styles reflected this. At first, FZ delegated the time-keeping or “groove” to Chester, who was less familiar with the music. This freed up Ralph for the more intricate duties, thereby enabling us to have a wider array of percussion sounds. As they became more attuned to each other, Ralph and Chester made musical decisions themselves regarding the shared responsibilities. One of the first things they did was tune their drum kits about a third apart, for a noticeably varied and separate character (Chester’s is the higher-pitched one). Frank saw the potential of all his musicians throughout his life, and with his direction their talents were utilized and stretched way beyond even their own expectations. It was exciting and inspiring to share this experience - and watch already accomplished artists change and grow.

The first drum solo you’ll hear is Ralph’s, coming from the left channel. Frank supplies the band sweeps and crescendos with his hand signals, and cues Chester’s solo, coming from the right. After several more exchanges back and forth, directed by FZ, the band was caught off guard by an astonishing, impromptu event: Frank felt the urge to have us perform only the drums and percussion parts of the song you’ll hear in its complete state on the following track. How often does anyone, performer or listener, hear an entire piece of music played by only one section of an ensemble during a live concert? It’s fascinating to hear now, particularly because the orchestration of this tune is so intricately organized. This was a first for us, and I don’t think it ever happened again.

It was physically quite complicated to perform, with or without the rest of the group: at one point, Ralph actually had to dive under my marimba for the quickest possible access to the instruments in my area. Fortunately, the Barcus-Berry pickups had eliminated the need for the mallet instruments’ sharp-edged resonators, so Ralph emerged unscathed every time! He and I switched off on timps and large gong, solely based on physical convenience, but that startlingly rich “wall of mallets” effect featured Ralph on vibraphone, with me on marimba. Thank goodness we were ridiculously well-rehearsed! (… and you thought drummers weren’t real musicians…).

[Instrumental]

[FZ] Ruth Underwood, Ralph Humphrey, Chester Thompson.

Thank you.

Alright, now, have a surprise for you. You’ve all been fooled.

Now, that little thing there is nothing more and nothing less than the rhythm track of the next song that we’re gonna play, which is a song about monster movies and it’s called “A little more cheepnis, please”.

Here’s what it sounds with everything else stuck to it, you already heard the drum part.

Quick, mop ‘em off.

11. Cheepnis

[Notes by Ruth Underwood] This inspired lunacy is both Frank’s send-up and homage to monster movies of a certain ilk, and in true FZ form, it’s exceedingly well-crafted slapstick and sophistication at the same time.

Now that you’re so informed about the drums and percussion parts, you may notice a tambourine here, wonderfully played by Ralph, but that was absent on the previous tracks’ close-up view. I spoke to Ralph recently about this, and he isn’t quite sure why there is this discrepancy. My theory is simply that, not having any idea whether Frank might abandon his impulsive ‘Cheepnis’ drums / percussion performance in midstream, Ralph may not have wanted to risk being caught without his sticks in hand, and decided to hold onto them just in case, forfeiting the tambourine option.

Here are more things for the obsessed listener to consider:

- “Frunobulax” is a name Gail thought up, based on the name of a cow Moon drew when she was five years old

- The abundance of “aha”s running through some of the songs, especially this one, was Frank’s imitation of my laugh (at times of extreme road mania), a sort of folkloric leitmotif, worked into the shows even more the following year

- Bruce’s inimitable dance style was so mesmerizing during “Cheepnis” and had every part of his body moving in opposing directions simultaneously, which propelled him around the stage in unpredictable, yet graceful, ways. I could barely take my eyes off him to play my part.

- The “Roxy & Elsewhere” album has an enjoyable spoken intro to “Cheepnis” by FZ that explains his motive for writing it.

Napoleon joined the band at the same time as Chester, three months before this Roxy engagement, but managed quickly to make “Cheepnis” his very own. With exaggerated antics on stage, he portrayed every action depicted in the song and created an entertaining spectacle. Equally heroic was his effort to clearly articulate Frank’s complicated and always important words which, here, are crammed within challengingly short spaces and a fast tempo (albeit slightly more manageable in this rendition).

[Napoleon Murphy Brock] I ate a hot dog, it tasted real good

Then I watched a movie from Hollywood

I ate a hot dog, it tasted real good

Then I watched a movie from Hollywood

Little Miss Muffet on a squat by me, yeah

I took a turn around, I said: “Can y’all see now?

The little strings on the giant spider?

The Zipper from the Black Lagoon?

HA HA HA!

The vents by the tanks where the bubbles go up

(And the flaps on the side of the moon!)

The jelly & paint on the 40 watt bulb

They use when The Slime droozle off

The rumples & the wrinkles in the cardboard rock, yeah

And the canvas of the cave is too soft

The suits & the hats & the ties too wide

And too short for the scientist-man

The chemistry lady with the roll-away mind, yeah

While the monster just ate Japan!”

[FZ] Ladies and gentlemen, the monster, which the peasants in this area call “Frunobulax”, has just been seen approaching the power plant! Bullets can’t stop it. Rockets can’t stop it. We may have to use nuclear force!

Everyone is advised to go to the shelter at once!

[Napoleon Murphy Brock] WAH! Run for your lives, […], get up, […], come on, go to the shelter, come on, everybody, yeah, go as fast as you can, run.

GO TO DA SHELTER! (“MY BABY, MY BABY!”)

GO TO DA SHELTER

GO TO DA SHELTER! (“MY BABY, MY BABY!”)

GO TO DA SHELTER

Little Miss Muffet on a squat by me

Can ya see the little strings danglin’ down?

Makes the legs go wobble an’ the mouth flop shut

An’ the horrible eye

Go rollin’ around!

Can y’see it at all? Can y’see it from here?

Can y’laugh till you’re weak on yer knees?

If you can’t, I’m sorry, ‘cause that’s all I wanna know!

I need a little more cheepnis, please