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Rating: The other day, while gardening, I noticed a label inside the cap I was putting on, and it brought a smile to my face because it reminded me of an episode that happened years earlier.
Thirty-five years ago (give or take a year), my cousin Franco came rushing to my house, breathless from climbing the stairs.
He was holding 5 Donovan records under his arm.
"Please make me some tape copies so I can listen to them in my car," he asked me. I readily agreed. While we were arranging to return everything to him, his gaze was drawn to an LP cover I had placed nearby, depicting a red couch suspended in space, along with other objects.
"What are you listening to?" he asked me.
In response, I started the turntable, which automatically launched into "Inca Roads".
Franco didn't wait long.
30-40 seconds.
He didn't even give himself time to wait for the first guitar solo, of what I already considered a splendid album by Frank Zappa.
Instead, I saw his face looking at me with a smile, under an expression mixed between incredulous and disgusted, as if at that moment I had swallowed a live scorpion.
"But you like this music? It sucks!" he told me.
My arguments that it was a good record, playing Rock-Blues in a yes, somewhat unusual but with great style, were of no use.
His expression didn't change.
Neither did I change my opinion.
We laughed it off and never talked about it again.
Dear Franco, I plan to revisit the topic the next time we meet.
Listening to it today, it seems impossible that "One Size Fits All" made such a negative impression on my cousin.
Where did Zappa go wrong?
The title should be a guarantee.
One size fits all.
Therefore, music for everyone. Or not?
Ironically, perhaps, Frank Zappa had determined that everyone could enjoy it without any problem, as if it were a glove, a shirt, or a cap.
Alright, it's not easy to enjoy Frank's deep voice when he says: "Evelyn a modified dog..." or "Po-jama people - Pojama people, people...", but when he and his Mothers get into it, you feel that it's not just any album.
Not because it's the twentieth recorded in a studio.
Not because after this the Mothers of Invention would no longer exist (even though he had disbanded them since '70, only to occasionally bring back various members).
Many things can be said about Frank Zappa, but not that he was a novice.
On the contrary. He was very organized and determined. He knew exactly what he was doing, and this work proves it.
To accomplish it, he gathered the most talented members of the Mothers and, as always, brought out the best in them.
I believe that this was a farewell work for the moment. To change.
To put an end to something that he probably could no longer stand or simply to close a chapter, looking forward to other future experiences.
Leaving in great style.
The album is characterized by lush production, complex instrumentation, and high-quality vocal arrangements. Completed by lyrics with content ranging from bizarre to entertaining.
You just have to listen to the tracks where Zappa indulges in excellent solo deviations, but without overpowering his collaborators, giving them the space to express themselves in sections of pure beauty.
Moreover, without losing his proverbial inclination for mockery, his sharp, sometimes surreal irony towards what he considered the conformist misbehavior of people concerned only with trivial, futile things.
People who are internally embittered by prejudices and rampant stupidity.
People only concerned with not losing the comfort of the sofa on which they lay.
It's true, Frank Zappa has produced more important albums, like "Uncle Meat", "Hot Rats", "The Grand Wazoo" or his debut "Freak Out", but this one deserves special consideration, precisely for the reasons I've listed.
-- Dedicated to my cousin Franco, wishing that one day, this too may become music that fits him --
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