Jazz Noise & Randomonium

A Handful Of Frank Zappa's

Jazz Compositions Reconstructed

And In Some Cases Partially De-Constructed

(In A Brand New Project/Object)

No.#2 in a series

Friday, June 26, 2009

The same approach is employed here as in the previous 'Iron Oxide & Digital Dust', a project/object that focused on Frank's musique concrete and synclavier compositions. This time 'round it's Zappa's jazz compositions that are reconstructed (or deconstructed) in accordance with his theories of 'conceptual continuity.' The 'CC' premise is that if one were to take a razor blade (or a digital editing program in today's world) to Zappa's recorded oeuvre, one could then effectively rearrange the material into a completely new and different unified whole, while maintaining the integrity and listenability of the original songs, now presented in a new form or context. Zappa contended that all of his compositions were "organically related," and anyone familiar with his output is likely to agree. I highly suspect however that Zappa would have strongly felt that he alone was the only qualified person to create any reconstructions, and in reality, I can't say I would have blamed him. After all, no serious composer such as Zappa would be inclined to condone just any rank amateur to tamper with their artistic statements. However, his notions surrounding 'conceptual continuity' and the 'organic' nature of his material almost beg the curious to at least toy with the idea. But let me make one thing perfectly clear. I am obviously not Frank Zappa, nor would I ever pretend to affiliate my mere cleverness with his true genius. However, neither am I a rank amateur. I do know a thing or two about keys, time signatures, meter, and sound editing. My efforts here are clearly not sanctioned, but I believe I hold a more than intimate familiarity with Zappa's work, enough so that I feel confident in my own ability to do his work justice. Therefore, as previously, I present this project/object with the utmost love and respect for Frank Zappa's legacy, most especially his jazz material. Perhaps I am being just a bit pompous in assuming that I can pull it off, but I do love you Frank. I always have.

About The Music

Frank Zappa always harbored a jazz soul. In fact, during a certain period of his long career, it was sometimes difficult to discern whether he was actually a jazz cat, or a rock guy. Of course as we know, he was both, as well as a bona fide modern classical composer to boot. Therefore, American Composer is the simply the most fitting (and deserving) description for Frank.

The tracks included in 'Jazz Noise & Randomonium' are taken from across his broad discography with an emphasis on his work from the late 60's, and early to mid 70's. It was especially during this latter period when his jazz leanings truly came to the forefront. This was of course after he had been pushed from a stage to injure his leg, back and neck so badly that it actually left him immobile and sidelined from touring for a full year. The experience, perpetrated by an alledged 'fan' would be enough to make any musician consider moving into the safer, more sedate jazz arena over the often raucous vibe of certain rock venues, particularly if this were the outcome. But confined to a wheelchair (and perhaps reconsidering his future direction), he immersed himself in the studio to compose and record some of his most enduring jazz works, brought to life by his Grand Wazoo and Petite Wazoo ensembles. Of course there were other excursions into the genre as well. Recordings like 'LG,' 'Uncle Meat,' Burnt Weeny Sandwich,' and 'Weasels,' had contained more than a just casual nod toward the genre. Then there was 'Hot Rats,' one of the best jazz records with a rock n' roll title. The tendencies surfaced with subsequent bands as well, most notably those with George Duke, Jean-Luc Ponty, the Underwoods, and others too numerous to mention. But none ever quite matched the swing of the Wazoo.

In this collection as I did with 'Lumpy Gravy' on the previous 'Iron Oxide & Digital Dust' mix, I've deconstructed 'The Grand Wazoo' into a suite that incorporates many diverse elements from other recordings that fit nicely with the overall scheme and feel of this resplendent jazz tune. Allowing the others included to speak mostly for themselves, I've attempted to string them together with assorted incidentals, so as not to deter from the power and majesty of their original state. In one such interlude, Frank is heard introducing the 'Läther' LP on a radio program. In actuality, the tracks that follow come largely from Side 1 of 'Burnt Weeny Sandwich' with 'Would You Like A Snack?,' a vocal version of 'Holiday In Berlin' appearing on the '200 Motels' soundtrack inserted for giggles. 'Revised Music For Guitar And Low Budget Orchestra' is presented in a truncated form, a cheap trick to trim down the running time, and one for which I hope to be forgiven. The others however are presented unadultered in full blown regalia. Of course there are any number of additional titles that could've been included in 'Jazz Noise & Randomonium,' but that might have simply made for too much of a good thing. If the response to this mix is favorable, perhaps I can append the one below with another later in the series. 'Bebop Tango' anyone?

Jazz Noise & Randomonium

1.) The Grand Wazoo, Pt. 1
2.) Daddy, Daddy, Daddy
3.) The Grand Wazoo, Pt. 2
4.) Flambé
("I'm in hock up to my God damn eyeballs!")
5.) The Grand Wazoo, Pt. 3
("What ever happened to all the fun in the world?")
6.) RDNZL
("You're OD'ing on Preparation H at this very moment")
7.) Oh No
8.) The Orange County Lumber Truck
9.) The Grand Wazoo, Pt. 4
10.) Twenty Small Cigars
("Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Frank Zappa")
11.) Igor's Boogie, Phase One
12.) Would You Like A Snack?
13.) Overture To A Holiday In Berlin
(With Burnt Weeny Finger Sandwiches)
13.) Igor's Boogie, Phase Two
14.) Holiday In Berlin, Full Blown
15.) Aybe Sea
16.) Waka Jawaka
17.) Little Umbrellas
("This is what happens when you join a rock group, George")
18.) Inca Roads
("Oh, you don't think so, huh?")
19.) Blessed Relief
(Telephone Conversation With Vicki)
20.) Uncle Meat
21.) Revised Music For Guitar And Low Budget Orchestra
(Spot the differences)
22.) RDNZL (Slight Return)





Source material for 'Jazz Noise & Randomonium' comes from the following:

Hot Rats (1969)/Burnt Weeny Sandwich (1969)
Weasels Ripped My Flesh (1970)/Chunga's Revenge (1970)
200 Motels (1971)/Waka Jawaka (1972)/The Grand Wazoo (1972)
One Size Fits All (1975)/Studio Tan (1978)/Sleep Dirt (1979)
The Ark (1991)/The Lost Episodes (1996)
and incidentals mostly from
Playground Psychotics (1992) and Läther (1996)

The Summer Of Zappa

Frank Vincent Zappa

American Composer

(1940-1993)

Friday, June 19, 2009

The Summer Of Zappa

Despite my recent proclamation that "it feels increasingly pointless spending time music blogging while all else around me seems to be falling to pieces," I still feel inclined to post at least something new of interest for those of you who are loyal readers, and hopefully for those others who just might happen to be stumbling upon this site for the first time. This one is simple and painless. Unlike assembling my usual custom music mixes, the inclusion of a video like the one above essentially takes no real endeavor at all on my behalf. Find it, embed it, share it. No effort. No guilt. No perspiration.

In what I believe will be an easy, and enjoyable exercise, I've decided to turn Birds With Broken Wings over to 'The Summer Of Zappa,' a series of short posts dedicated to the music and legacy of one of our great American composers, the late, Frank Zappa. I previously offered a post devoted to Frank roughly one month ago called, 'Iron Oxide & Digital Dust.' It was presented as a 'project/object' focusing almost exclusively on Zappa's musique concr�(r)te and synclavier compositions. Compiling those selections sparked a reinvigorated interest on my part in Zappa's vast repository of material. Always a fan, I absorbed most of Frank's music years ago and then moved on to other composers, coming back from time to time for a quick fix. But 'Iron Oxide & Digital Dust' was my first visit in quite awhile, and coming back to it reminded me of just how timeless his music really is. Additionally, the response to that mix was surprisingly favorable, and so I've elected to continue on with the 'project/objects' and expand on the theme as well. As a result, additional 'project/objects' will continue over the next few weeks as a separate 'series within the series,' all devoted to various musical aspects of Zappa's enormous body of work.

I've always admired Frank's creativity, his interest in the arts, and his legendary work ethic. Additionally, I'm also more than well acquainted with his music, and so I immensely enjoy working with and sharing his material. But it occurs to me that featuring his music extensively here in these pages somewhat belies the mission statement of Birds With Broken Wings. Zappa is already a pillar of 20th century contemporary music. Although not nearly as accessible as Irving Berlin, George Gershwin, or the three B's --- Beatles, Bacharach, and Beach Boys --- there's remains absolutely no chance of his contributions ever being forgotten. But I justify his inclusion here simply as my way of assuring that his music remains in the very forefront of our consciousness, an inner voice that is increasing filled with a myriad of distractions. Frank was truly a gifted and remarkable artist, and certainly one of the foremost American composers of our time. So as an informal introduction of sorts for the two of you who may not already be familiar with his name or his work, 'The Summer Of Zappa' unofficially commences with the above video, an interesting documentary on Frank, despite the inclusion of some of his weakest material. While not the definitive profile, it does give you a glimpse behind the curtain at a very specific point in his career, and clearly depicts what was his anything but mainstream lifestyle. Unorthodox? Well, that depends on your frame of reference. Eccentric? Yeah, perhaps. Genius? Not necessarily apparent from what is presented here, but in my opinion, an unqualified yes. And believe me, genius is a word I use only with the utmost discretion. I think that's really saying something. Wowie Zowie!

Ain't No Fortunate Son

Sliding Down The Slippery Slope
Friday, June 12, 2009

Back in December of 2007, I recounted a story about a move to England that resulted in a series of disappointing failures and cancelled expectations, leaving me broke-down and busted, deflated and dejected, sharing an unheated, London cold water flat in the depths of a cold, cold U.K. winter. As a form of solace, I listened intently to the healing music of Abdullah Ibrahim for comfort and strength until I was able to reconcile my defeats and soldier on. Today, some 20 odd years later here on my native soil, I now find myself listening to Ibrahim once again.

Abdullah Ibrahim is a South African pianist and composer of great depth and spirituality who uses his music as a "constructive tool of positive energy and rebirth." Working in the jazz idiom, Ibrahim incorporates loving touches of Duke Ellington and Thelonious Monk over the inherent Mbaqanga rhythms of his birthplace to make a joyful sound that evokes both the heyday of Harlem 1940's, and the dusty heat of the southern most African continent. Although he is no longer a resident of Cape Town, Ibrahim nonetheless remains a citizen in spirit. Physically he may be worlds away, but his heart remains with the people of his homeland as he continues to create music with a modern touch that affectionately reflect his roots.

The songs included in the set below are among the best of those in his catalog that most conjure the hypnotic, easy rolling cyclic structure of the Marabi rhythms of Afrikaners. Calming and cooling in their lazy, unhurried pace, they make for exceptionally pleasant listening, particularly during the summer months when the blazing sun brings with it long, languid days and comforting warmth. They're the perfect accompaniment for helping to forget the busy world that swirls around you as you relax under a sun dappled oak tree, cocooned in a hammock, sipping at a long, cool, thirst quenching drink. However, I don't mean to undermine the soulful, spiritual aspects of Ibrahim's compositions, nor their intended purpose. In reality, they were written to help instill hope and optimism for his people who for decades had lived under the policies of segregation and discrimination that were Apartheid. In fact, his 'Cape Town Fringe' (originally known as 'Mannenberg') and 'Black Lightning' were actually adopted as 'unofficial' anthems by Black South Africans in their struggle for equality, a testament to Ibrahim's desire to use his music as a vehicle for promise and renewal. Both were recorded in the mid-1970's when Ibrahim briefly returned to South Africa after his conversion to Islam. Finding the social/political conditions to be so reprehensibly oppressive, he assembled a band of notable Cape Town players and reportedly recorded nearly "eight albums worth" of material over several days, most all of them comprised of first takes. The best of the material was then released in a staggered fashion over the next two years to acclaim, both regionally and internationally. The power of that music, and the fortitude it provided to the many who were struggling for their freedom, resulted in Ibrahim being branded an enemy of the state, awaking to "4 a.m. knocks on the door," and culminating in his losing his citizenship, forcing him to live as an exile.

So is Abdullah Ibrahim's music monopolizing my turntable simply because the high solstice is soon upon us here in the Northern Hemisphere and I'm soaking up the rays, watching cotton summer dresses sway in the soft afternoon breeze? Hardly. After a cross country move last autumn which took me from one coast to another with the promise of a new beginning, my best laid plans fell apart shortly after my arrival. Coinciding with the economic meltdown that triggered the metaphorical fall of modern Rome, my hopes were smashed as quickly, and as thoroughly as a hapless insect against a moving windshield. Left jobless and in debt, the last six months have proven to be among the biggest challenges I've faced in quite some time. Perhaps I should consider myself lucky, at least when I compare my situation to the suffering of so many others throughout the world. At least I have my health, my wife, my hair and youthful looks (although I've noticed some discernible greying over the last few months). However, without a substantial paycheck since early January, and plenty of unpaid bills laying around, it has made for a particularly tough time. Unemployment insurance is an option you might say. But since I work largely as an independent contractor, I am ineligible to collect one red cent, despite my tax dollars going to subsidize some government funds and policies that I vehemently deplore.

My lack of a safety net is a concept that Europeans readers would probably not understand in their far more enlightened societies. Here in the States, if you're wealthy or even marginally comfortable, you're given tax breaks. If you're among the very poorest, you are given aid, although those assistance programs are severely understaffed and increasingly underfunded. However, if you fall somewhere in between as a member of the middle or lower middle class, you're basically squeezed until you're bled dry, earning too much to qualify for assistance, but not enough to live anywhere above a level of meagerness. This grey zone is where I have resided most of my life, but now even more modestly than previously. So today, with no meaningful prospects on the horizon, and the money running out, those hopes that I just recently held for a new beginning have ground to an abrupt halt and become an Albatross of sorts. Where just six months ago the many faces of the city were an endless source of fascination for me, now all those people serve only to make me feel that much more alone. This town is a cheerless place when you're in the gutter looking up. No, I'm not that far down, but then I'm not really that far away either. With this in mind, my posts here at Birds With Broken Wings may become less frequent, as it feels increasingly pointless spending time music blogging while all else around me seems to be falling to pieces. Job searching notwithstanding, you can however find me doing the occasional street busking these days, trading songs and poetry for some smiles and spare change (although I tell myself it's to practice my witty repartee!). Hell, I'm not proud. I've been there before. The difference is I was much younger back then. Today I'm a lot older, if not more confused.

I don't bring up my circumstance to illicit sympathy or pity from you, my dear readers. I bring it up because in times of strife, we all turn whatever it is that gets us through the long days, and even longer nights we face. For me, the music of Abdullah Ibrahim is one of those things, particularly these recordings. The songs below are filled with the joy, hope, and healing spirit that I so direly need in this chapter of my life. I don't kid myself. They won't solve my dilemma, but they will soothe my soul. And everything is cyclical. Things will turn around before long, but in the meantime, I look to Ibrahim's sweet music to give me strength once again.

Songs Of Hope And Resistance

1.) Cape Town Fringe
a.k.a. Mannenberg
2.) Little Boy
3.) Black Lightning
4.) Sathima
5.) African Herbs
6.) Soweto


Source material for 'Songs Of Hope And Resistance' come from the following:

Black Lightning (1976)
Cape Town Fringe a.k.a. Mannenberg Is Where It's Happening (1977)
Soweto a.k.a. African Herbs (1978)

All are taken from the self-titled 3 LP set on the Audiofidelity label
featuring reissues of these titles which were originally released in the U.S.
on the Chiaroscuro label.

Wishing The World Away

Mark Eitzel
& American Music Club
Friday, June 05, 2009

Lyrically, the most compelling aspect of Mark Eitzel's songwriting is the underlying theme of detachment and dislocation that runs through the material. His songs are filled with disenfranchised characters who don't belong to this world, or have lost their way within it. Hapless souls who are endlessly searching for that elusive ingredient that might ground them, whether it be the happiness or stability that is missing from their lives, or the redemption that could ultimately save them. The missing links that force them to wander restlessly, never quite finding peace, or that sanctuary that we call home. This rootlessness is underscored by the often minor, unresolved chords that accompany his poetic words. Augmented by the lonely atmospheric cry of a pedal steel guitar and a tapestry of rich sounds, the music evokes the wide open spaces of the Western American landscape. A topography where the impending darkness of nightfall soaks up the last of the light to squeeze the day down to an angry red line. But in a larger sense, that sound might also stand as a metaphor for the vacant spiritual connection that is all but lost on those of us who live in this land of plenty.

This sense of dislocation should come as no surprise when one understands and appreciates the unsettled background of AMC's sole songwriter. Born in suburban San Francisco, the band leader was the product of overbearing parents who moved from town to town, country to country following their professional pursuits, hardly allowing the young Eitzel to develop meaningful or lasting friendships throughout his early life. Pushed by his domineering parents to excel both academically and vocationally, his only natural recourse was to rebel in the only way he knew how --- by making bittersweet music. And what fragile, aching music it is, minor keys adrift in oceans of space upon which float anguished lyrics of disillusionment, longing, regret, and resignation, all sharpened by a sour jaundice that would end up serving only to undermine his ultimate success.

For years, San Francisco's self proclaimed 'laziest songwriter' was a mess, but a beautiful mess, if you know what I mean. Dogged by a drinking habit brought on by his shyness, insecurity, and perhaps his own self loathing, Eitzel nevertheless pushed himself out on stage night after night to play his songs to largely indifferent audiences. Yes, his band had its following, and yes, they also had their fair share of accolades. But in the end, they never succeeded in breaking through to claim the rewards they justly deserved. And perhaps that's a good thing in some ways. International stardom likely would have never suited Eitzel (although his bandmates might have relished the idea), and as a result, they might have become something entirely different in the process (à la R.E.M.). But at the very least, they all merit receiving a more-than-decent living from the beautiful music that they 've collectively produced.

Early on it seemed that despite his best intentions, Eitzel's self destructive ways often interfered with the band's better plans. Easily the least proficient technically, his bandmates frequently struggled with Eitzel's poor sense of timing, but nevertheless, it was the emotional rawness of his music, and sadly his drunkenness that created many memorable performances. As the band made serious attempts to capture the moment, Eitzel, always his worst enemy, would flail away in a stupor of alcohol, seemingly intent on sabotaging everything that they had originally set out to create. Like witnessing a train wreck, you couldn't take your eyes away, but beneath the carnage lay a thing of rare beauty. As an occasional member of the audience at their first shows within San Francisco's Hotel Utah, I often found myself feeling helpless, guilty almost to be watching one man's public implosion unfold on the tiny stage in front of me. But it was Eitzel's demon to conquer, not my own. Unfortunately however, the audiences at those early performances at times appeared to be there not so much for the music, as they were to see just how much havoc the singer was actually capable of creating. And in the worst circumstances, perhaps to see just how far her could actually fall. A sad scenario to contemplate, especially when you consider just how much that morbid curiosity might have actually fueled his self destructive behavior. Still, those early shows were magical, if not for the sad passion play that accompanied them, and the band themselves were certainly top notch.

In terms of personnel, AMC were somewhat of a revolving door, the most productive line-up surrounding Eitzel, drummer Tim Mooney, and bassist Dan Pearson. Bruce Kaphan provided that 'wide open feeling of the Western skies' ambiance on pedal steel guitar, while sound designer, Mark Prankler (a.k.a. Vudious Maximus, and more commonly known simply as Vudi) created a sonic backdrop of tasteful guitar textures that defied all description, and still does today. This unit epitomized AMC's creative peak, and held together for roughly 4 years recording 1991's 'Everclear,' through their swan song, 'San Francisco' released in 1994. But after 10+ years and 7 LP's that failed to find any success, the core members, Eitzel, Pearson, and Vudi decided to lay AMC to rest and move on, having barely even earned a living during the groups entire lifespan. In Eitzel's case, his move was to an equally unsuccessful solo career. But then, as I've stated previously, the man has always been his worst enemy.

Besides being San Francisco's 'laziest songwriter,' Mark Eitzel might also be the city's 'most miserable.' Social clumsiness notwithstanding, he somehow manages to alienate most everyone around him. Cantankerous, cynical, and perpetually glum, he almost seems to enjoy wallowing in his misery, whether it be perceived or otherwise. And in my extremely limited experience, he also seems to expect others to understand and share his angst. I'm told however that he has finally succeeded in abating his drinking habit once and for all, and perhaps is now a bit more gentle and kind as a result. His newer material seems to indicate as much, but of course giving up a decades long love affair with alcohol might easily push one in the opposite direction as well. Either way, Mark Eitzel is still a formidable songwriter of great candor and poetic grace. Remarkably, despite his own emotional scarring, he is able to brilliantly convey the heartbreak, torment, suffering, and despair that is capable of running through our lives. And he does so with a voice that while not outstanding, is irresistibly human, managing to go flat in all the right places at just the right times. Despite his cranky demeanor, Eitzel's (AMC's) music can be deeply tender and quite captivating, evoking the sort of ache that one can sometimes get in their heart. The type of ache that feels something like falling down stairs.

For reasons of which I'm not entirely certain, I wrote this piece as though AMC were a thing of the past. In fact, the band reformed nearly 10 years after packing it in to record 2004's 'Love Songs For Patriots,' sans Bruce Kaphan. In 2008 they released the superb, 'The Golden Age' with yet another new shift of personnel in their ever evolving line-up. As of this writing, the status of AMC remains an unknown to the me, and perhaps even for the band themselves. One can only hope that they'll remain with us to provide more of the powerful music that is distinctly AMC.

Wishing The World Away

1.) Chanel #5
2.) Hello Amsterdam
3.) Gratitude Walks
4.) If I Had A Hammer
5.) America Loves The Minstrel Show
6.) Firefly
7.) Somewhere
8.) Laughingstock
9.) The President's Test For Physical Fitness
10.) On A Clear Day
11.) I Broke My Promise
12.) The Sleeping Beauty
13.) The Stars
14.) All The Lost Souls Welcome You To San Francisco
15.) Hollywood 4/5/92
16.) Johnny Mathis' Feet
17.) I've Been A Mess
18.) Love Doesn't Belong
19.) Blue And Grey Shirt
20.) Western Sky
21.) All My Love

Source material for 'Wishing The World Away' comes from the following recordings:

California (1988)/Everclear (1991)/Mercury (1993)/San Francisco (1994)
Love Songs For Patriots (2004) and The Golden Age (2008)
plus one or two CD Singles