Zapping Zappa

FRANK ZAPPA, in his tenth year as guitarist and leader of the demonic Mothers of Invention, continues to wrestle with a nagging artistic problem. Should he pattern his music to suit broad, popular musical tastes or should he ignore public sentiments and compose from the heart?

Zappa's musical output in the last year and double concert at Boston's Orpheum theater last weekend suggest that the brilliant composer may decide eventually to sacrifice his art for greater public acclaim and a higher income. To Zappa's delight, his last three albums, Overnite Sensation, Apostrophe' and Roxy & Elsewhere, scaled the charts and seduced a new crop of listeners--mostly teenyboppers jaded by glitter rock--into becoming "Zappa Freaks." But all this success spells trouble. The band that once proclaimed it had "no commercial potential" is now in danger of becoming much too commercial.

The current musical fare, with a few exceptions, pales in comparison to Zappa's earlier work. His mid-'60s pieces ranged from impassioned social commentary, as in "Who Are the Brain Police," to fifties rhythm and blues parodies, to lengthy explorations of the subconscious ("Help, I'm a Rock"). What made the early music exciting and "avant garde" was the peculiar synthesis of three-and four-beat rock, off-beat vocals, jazz and blues and dissonant, polyrhythmic musical phrases borrowed from 20th century classical composers like Varese, Stravinsky and Cage. In the 1960s, no American rock band could compete with Zappa and the Mothers in the complexity and sophistication of their music.

Zappa's compositions and his band's outrageous stage theatrics did not make money for the Mothers in the 1960s, nor did it place an album on the Billboard charts. But changes in personnel in recent years and new musical directions by Zappa appear to be geared toward greater financial success.

The first step came with Chunga's Revenge and 200 Motels when Zappa augmented his intricate musical style with thoroughly obscene lyrics and three-minute songs like "Tell Me You Love Me" and "Magic Fingers" that grabbed you right in the groin.

His recent Overnite Sensation an even greater effort to reach the larger record-buying public. In the process Zappa forsakes musical complexity for standard four-beat rhythms, heavymetal guitar runs and scatalogical excesses not unlike Harvard Lampoon humor. Apostrophe' offers more of the same, including "Don't Eat Yellow Snow." Perhaps the only redeeming feature of these two albums is the tight ensemble playing that is typical of the Mothers.

AT THE ORPHEUM last weekend, during the first one-and-a-half hour show Zappa played "commercial," responding to screams from teenyboppers for recent tunes like "Yellow Snow" and "Penguin in Bondage" and established a fine rapport with what was basically a rock and roll crowd. His newer, funkier melodies flowed together in an extended medley which included a few unrecorded instrumentals and vocals ("Pajama People") and some songs for the "old folks" ("I'm Not Satisfied" and "Dog Breath.")

Zappa changed directions in his second show, however, which ran an hour longer than the first. This time he seemed annoyed with audience requests, particularly one boisterous command of "let's boogie." It was an insulting remark; asking Frank Zappa to boogie is like asking Igor Stravinsky to write a Broadway musical.

The second set temporarily relieved me of my fears that Zappa would eventually sell out to commercialism. He played heavy metal, but only in the context of a parody ("Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "Watch carefully as we demonstrate our Blue Oyster Cult choreography.")

An hour of free-flowing improvisation and older tunes like "Idiot Bastard Son" and the classic "Oh No" made it clear that Zappa has not lost the skill of synthesizing a variety of musical thoughts into pure Zappa-esque composition. At the concert he also showed his remarkable skill in keeping the players in firm control while allowing them golden moments of freedom to explore their own musical ideas. His second set, unlike the first, undisputably displayed the real Zappa--a Zappa that was not present in Overnite Sensation or Apostrophe'.

Last month's release of Roxy & Elsewhere, a live Zappa album, makes the same point: Zappa has not yet made a firm commitment either to commercialism and top-40 rock, or to original, honest music that disregards industry and public pressure to record million-selling albums. "Be-Bop Tango" is among the best cuts on the new record because it typifies Zappa music and Zappa humor. If you listen carefully to George Duke's scat singing, you hear strains of Thelonius Monk's "Straight No Chaser" and a Zappa remark about 4/4 time: "It's a pedestrian beat. You don't dance to it."

Zappa's next release will be the clue as to whether or not he decides to go strictly commercial. If he has any integrity left, he should stick to his own inherent musical needs, as Charles Ives did at the turn of the century. On several of the Mothers' early albums, Zappa used to quote his idol, Edgar Varese: "The present-day composer refuses to die." I hope Zappa remembers these words.