Frank Zappa
You Can't Do That On Stage Anymore Vol. 1 (Ryko 10081/10082)

If you want to walk with Zappa, you take the good with the bad – he was like Jesus, if Jesus had interrupted his wisest sermons with absolutely disgusting doo-doo jokes. To me, Zappa's discography is the most frustrating of any major musician's, simply because for all the insane talent and originality, he didn't leave behind many albums that are thoroughly worthwhile, and I can't name even one that I'd call beautiful.

But I guess there's something to be said for following your muse, even if your muse is so subversive that it prevents you from truly making great art. So what we have to sift through are dozens and dozens of records, almost equally teeming with brilliance and with failed promise.

People go wrong with Zappa in trying to understand him as a recording artist. He had no respect for the album as a form of real artistic expression, and thrived much more vitally in live performance. This is where Zappa and Miles Davis are similar: if you track their respective careers from about 1968 on, it's not the studio records that matter, it's the live shows. In each case, what the artist really was, and it hurts a little to use the phrase, was a jam band.

So you must take on Zappa the same way you would 70s and 80s Miles, or the Dead (it is no coincidence that Zappa and Miles each appeal to the fringe element of the tie-dye world. And as such, you must start with the You Can't Do That On Stage Anymore series.

These discs were compiled by Frank in his last years, assembling quasi-"live shows" from his live archives, so most of the six 2-disc sets ping-pong around his various bands and eras, edited together to create a seamless whole. It's exactly what he needed to do to preserve his legacy, since any given Zappa boot straight through is bound to have serious flaws (sonic, or just in terms of taste). YCDTOSA is therefore a perfect survey of Zappa's career, presenting the best or most distinctive performances of almost all his great stuff, creatively spliced with thoughtful (and frequently hilarious) juxtapositions.

Vol. 1 kicks off with Zappa's tediously smug voice narrating "Once Upon a Time," which gradually becomes so self-indulgent and soincredibly funny; this segues into "Sofa #1," wherein doo-wop vocals (sung in German, no less) arise out what otherwise would sound like mid-period King Crimson. This sets the tone – it's a diverse ride, simultaneously catering to and trumping all your expectations and desires.

Much of the set reminds me of King Crimson ("The Mammy Anthem" is pure Frippery), which is both odd and not-odd, as I doubt Frank really would have lumped himself into the "fusion" category, but that's precisely the kind of music he made, despite all the scatology. YCDTOSA1 is great because it blends the furious instrumental prowess of Zappa and his many bandmates with a genuinely funny sense of humor, heard to best effect in moments like when Zappa keeps cracking himself and the band up with persistent lines from "Wooly Bully" throughout "Tryin' to Grow a Chin."

For someone who is considered one of the most avant-garde and complex composers of the 20th century, Zappa certainly invested a lot of enery rewriting "Louie, Louie" throughout his career ("Ruthie-Ruthie" and "Plastic People" are included here). Also very funny is "The Groupie Routine," which shows the rather singular ability Zappa had to incorporate straight-out comedy skits into his sets.

Musical highlights include an instrumental "Let's Make the Water Turn Black" and "Harry You're a Beast" which sound like '83 synth-based reconstructions but which turn out to be done with real instruments, and a just incredible 15-minute "The Torture Never Stops," featuring FZ and Adrian Belew with some of their most purely thrilling playing – spontaneous, perfect, and surprisingly un-wankin'. For all his faults, Zappa always made sure to stop every once in awhile and remind you why you cared in the first place.

Things tank a bit toward the end of the set, with the unpleasant clatter of "The Dangerous Kitchen" and the overly obvious sarcasm and "satire" of "Dumb All Over" and "Heavenly Bank Account" … wow, a musician noting the hypocrisy of TV preachers? Groundbreaking. Bleccch. "Suicide Chump" continues the obviousness with a blues-rock progression lampooning failed suicides. Zappa's once-razor-sharp wit here pushes into "Weird Al" Yankovic territory … music for limited minds.

There's no better starting point for Zappa's music than this set – the subsequent volumes are almost equally good (and/or maddening). Nowhere else will you find such a welcoming packaging of Zappa's snide contemptuousness, nor a better argument for him as a musician. Best of all, there's none of that baffling bullshit he was doing at the very end of his life, holed up in the studio meticulously programming what he thought must be classical music on a Synclavier … but which really was just a whole lot of pure crap. This was an artist who lived most genuinely on stage, away from the luxury of masturbating in private and expecting us to care. At least masturbating in public is relatively interesting to watch, you know?

Loud Bassoon rating scale

Review by Thomas Long-and-Strong