Frank Zappa
Freak out!

Original instructions for using "Freak out!": First, buy the record, it's essential. Secondly, don't leave it on the back of the car, exposed to the sun. Third, take the second side of the second record, The return of son of Monster Magnet. Turn off the lights and sit in front of the speaker, adjusting the volume to the maximum. Now comes the fun part. The track lasts 12 minutes and 37 seconds. If at the eighth minute you feel a certain sense of discomfort and headache, by all means burn the record, being careful not to inhale the fumes emitted by the cover. Don't forget to use the ashes, excellent for callus therapy, bunions, corns. If instead your body reacts well, you're ready to tackle the remaining sides of the album."

And always in the album's explanatory notes, Frank Zappa is presented not only as the leader and musical director of the group Mothers of Invention, but also as possessing a personality so repellent that it is advised to keep away from him, an invitation particularly valid for young and easily impressionable people, unable to cope with him. Not a bad calling card. Since I purchased "Freak out!" (in the mid-70s by now) I've always reread these phrases (among which the famous declaration attributed to Edgar Varese, Frank's reference musician, according to which "The present day composer refuses to die!") and I simply wondered how such an album would be received by critics and the public, the album I'm reviewing, released in July 1966 (back then my musical tastes could not be so evolved). Certainly for all the prudes of that era (the so-called sycophants of Yankee province so much mocked by uncle Frank) that youthful music generically defined as rock, developed from the mid-50s, always had enigmatic and unsettling features, ever since a Yankee youngster named Elvis Presley appeared on the scene. In the new decade of the 60s, things became further complicated with English groups first beat (Beatles primarily) then increasingly audacious to rise as the pied pipers of the youth revolution (just in 1965, the Rolling Stones were uncontrollable shouting youthful dissatisfaction in "I can't get no satisfaction", while the Who intensified the dose with "My generation"). And even in the USA, there was the true and proper minstrel, first folk then increasingly rock named Bob Dylan, calling out to those young later defined as baby boomers. In short, the musical air was already effervescent on its own but Frank Zappa's debut was something challenging to frame for those who continued to think in outdated terms. And so the question the prudes should ask was: who is this Frank Zappa?

Certainly not just any kid, but a curious omnivore of every musical style from the experimentalism of Edgar Varese to doo wop (passing through various jazz and blues languages, without disdaining a bit of surf music), as well as a musical experimenter himself in Cucamonga, a pleasant Californian location. Evidence of this fervent activity is recorded in the annals in an unforgettable participation in the Steve Allen show where, back in April 1963, he conducted an orchestral overture for a symphony for bicycles appropriately played (the footage can be found on YouTube titled "Frank Zappa at Steve Allen show"), leaving both the present audience and the host astonished and entertained.

In short, at the time of the album "Freak out!" Zappa had already built a small reputation as a genuine party pooper, shaker of established musical certainties. And having signed him, along with the Mothers of Invention, for the then-record label Verve was a decision more foresighted than risky by a producer like Tom Wilson (fine talent scout for names like Bob Dylan, Velvet Underground, Simon & Garfunkel). He might have thought he had signed another r&b group, but what was recorded in "Freak out!" transcends a bit all musical genres. Meanwhile, it is to be considered (perhaps considering the contemporary "Face to face" by the Kinks) the first concept album in the realm of rock and beyond, as it represents the typical attitude of a freak (and here the autobiographical character is very perceptible) towards the reigning clichés in modern affluent American society. Firstly, Zappa targets certain romantic musical beauties, distorting them and bringing them to paradoxical consequences. The doo wop trend, with so many tracks characterized by a sum of teenage love or romance stupidity (an idea Frank would develop more with the album "Cruising with Ruben and the Jets" in 1968), is just meant to underscore the absurdity of many then-prevailing sexual taboos. But good Frank, as a good encyclopedic and versatile composer, goes beyond and taking inspiration from r&b and rock roots, candidly addresses the contradictions of the Yankee society that boasted of being the Great Society (on the wave of reforms enacted by then-President Lyndon B. Johnson). The lp's opening track declared "Hungry freaks, daddy" and sided with the excluded (dropouts) from the altogether failing American way of life (the so-called "the left behind of the Great Society"). Another denunciatory track is "Who are the brain police?" (said by Zappa to be composed in a kind of paranormal state of trance, almost under dictation) which notes how a sort of consciousness control influences us even while believing we are formally free. Even more irritating is the track "Trouble comin' everyday", a sort of rap on a rock base that crudely depicts the great racial unrest in the Watts ghetto (in 1966) with predictable violent excesses and irritating media hype causing even Zappa himself to cry "though I'm not a person of color, many times I wish I could say that I'm not white" (actual words "Hey you know something people I'm not black but there's a whole lots a times I wish I could say I'm not white"). Such a peremptory statement (not even Bob Dylan had been so explicit...) was unprecedented at the time since "Say it loud, I'm black and I'm proud" would be recorded by James Brown only in 1968. But that's not all: to leave nothing out in the last two tracks of the album Zappa and his cronies produce themselves in memorable jam sessions of true avant-garde Dadaist rock unprecedented for the time. The first is "Help I'm a rock" some sort of funeral ode (noted as zero potential commercial) to Elvis Presley's rock, while "The return of the son of Monster Magnet" runs for over 12 minutes (a lengthy period already attempted by the Rolling Stones and by Bob Dylan) improvising on a fictional character, a groupie named Suzy Creamcheese and her bawdy misadventures. This composition was really innovative for those times so much so that Paul McCartney himself, after the first listen remained favorably impressed, convinced himself that the new Beatles record (which would be "Sgt. Pepper's...") would have to strike equally to leave a mark.

In short, even if today an album like "Freak out!" can be categorized as a historical document to listen to in one breath (and since the year of publication 1966 much more has happened), it remains true that at that time the aforementioned work could not leave people indifferent. And I feel I must add that Frank Zappa, author of so much incomparable music, nonetheless managed to rise above and make himself noticed over what has always been the prevailing everyday cacophony. A noteworthy achievement then as it is now. And excuse me if that's little, but it's still something that earned him a worthy place among the best musicians of the Twentieth century.