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Rating: I can just imagine good old Francone, while giving the final touches to his latest album in the recording studio, smirking under those now legendary mustaches. Maybe observed by Steve Vai, or Ike Willis, or perhaps bassist Arthur Barrow, or maybe some other talented musicians who accompanied him in the recordings of "You Are What You Is" (including David Logeman on drums and Tommy Mars on keyboards), released in 1981 but recorded the year before. Perhaps one of his collaborators, maybe two, maybe all of them, would have seen Francone smile and would have wondered if it was simply an amused grin or a satisfied one. Because, in the end, there's only one question: have we been beautifully conned by Frank Vincent Zappa, born in 1940, all this time?
Frank Zappa, native of Baltimore, a brilliant composer, a spokesman of total music, a brilliant talent scout and above all the leader of all freaks. The crazies, the weirdos, the monsters, the world’s outcasts brought to light and glorified by Francone, because he's the craziest of all. Beneath thousands of notes, dozens of albums, hundreds of songs, what remains of the big mustache is the lucid, wonderful seed of madness, the madness that all geniuses share. And so much anger towards the so-called "society".
The youth now burnt out, whose only common ideal seems to be the obsessive search for new ways to get high; unfaithful wives; men whose only universal language consists of expensive cars and designer clothes; this is the world Frank Zappa lives in, this is the society ridiculed by one who more than anyone else represents the people mistreated by the "normal," the "righteous," the "deserving".
But this time, no experimentalism. None of those avant-garde crazinesses that made the fortune of various "Absolutely Free" and "We're Only In It For The Money", as loved by critics as they were hated by the "generalist" public, the kind who listen to the radio while doing house chores or heading to the office. This time Francone wants to shove in everyone's face what he thinks, all his disgust, like how the much-acclaimed America in history books has now become the den of a bunch of idiots foaming at the mouth with a black hole in their skull, and to do so, he tries the hardest path: irony. Sharp, irreverent, as only the great authors can do. Irony mixed with an extremely catchy yet incredibly complex rock, because Frank Vincent Zappa never takes the easy road.
He, the king of freaks, the genius, never chooses the path; always the climb. And in taking the more complex route, despite the effort and criticisms, he never loses that grin on the verge of the ridiculous and the malevolent, which I imagine accompanied him at the end of listening to every piece of his work.
Because, in the end, his goal is achieved: Frank Zappa always manages to beautifully con us all.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
02 Harder Than Your Husband (02:36)
Frank Zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
Ike Willis (rhythm guitar, vocals)
Ray White (rhythm guitar, vocals)
Bob Harris (boy soprano, trumpet)
Steve Vai (guitar)
Tommy Mars (keyboards)
Arthur Barrow (bass)
Ed Mann (percussion)
David Ocker (clarinet, bass clarinet)
Motorhead Sherwood (tenor saxophone, vocals)
Denny Walley (slide guitar, vocals)
David Logeman (drums)
Craig Steward (harmonica)
Jimmy Carl Black (vocals)
Ahmet Zappa (vocals)
Moon Zappa (vocals)
We must say good-bye
There's no need for you to cry
It's better that I tell you this tonight
Our affair has been quite heated
You thought I was what you needed
But the time has come, my darlin'
To set things right, 'cause
I'll be harder than yer husband
To get along with
Harder than yer husband every night
Harder than yer husband
Harder than yer husband
An' I don't want our love affair
To end with a fight
You been like a little angel
How you loved me
I appreciate the warmth of your embrace
Well, the world don't need to know
How I adored you
But there's somethin' I must tell you, darlin'
Face to face...
I'll be harder than yer husband
To get along with
Harder than yer husband every night
Harder than yer husband
Harder than yer husband
An' I don't want our love affair
To end with a fight
So it's adios, adios, my little darlin'
(adios my little darlin'...)
Gotta go now...
Keep that hankie that I gave you for
when you cry
There are things that trouble me
And I'm sure that you must see
That it breaks my heart the same as yours
When we say good-bye
Harder than yer husband
Harder than yer...much, much, much
Harder than yer husband
Harder than yer...much, much, much
Harder than yer husband
Harder than yer...much, much, much
Harder than yer husband
Harder than yer...
03 Doreen (05:00)
Frank Zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
Ike Willis (rhythm guitar, vocals)
Ray White (rhythm guitar, vocals)
Bob Harris (boy soprano, trumpet)
Steve Vai (guitar)
Tommy Mars (keyboards)
Arthur Barrow (bass)
Ed Mann (percussion)
David Ocker (clarinet, bass clarinet)
Motorhead Sherwood (tenor saxophone, vocals)
Denny Walley (slide guitar, vocals)
David Logeman (drums)
Craig Steward (harmonica)
Jimmy Carl Black (vocals)
Ahmet Zappa (vocals)
Moon Zappa (vocals)
Doreen...don't make me wait
Til tomorrow
Oh-wo-no-oh-wo...
Please darling
Let me love you tonight
An' it'll be awright
You...can't make me say
I don't want you
Oh-wo-no-oh-wo...
My heart
Is burning with love
And I want you tonight
I really love you
You make me feel good
Please don't deceive me
Doreen you know you should
Stay with me always
We could be lovers
Doreen you're different
Then all the...others
Doreen...don't make me wait
Til tomorrow
Oh-wo-no-oh-wo...
Please darling
Let me love you tonight
An' it'll be awright
You...can't make me say
I don't want you
Oh-wo-no-oh-wo...
My heart
Is burning with love
And I want you tonight
06 Society Pages (02:26)
Frank Zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
Ike Willis (rhythm guitar, vocals)
Ray White (rhythm guitar, vocals)
Bob Harris (boy soprano, trumpet)
Steve Vai (guitar)
Tommy Mars (keyboards)
Arthur Barrow (bass)
Ed Mann (percussion)
David Ocker (clarinet, bass clarinet)
Motorhead Sherwood (tenor saxophone, vocals)
Denny Walley (slide guitar, vocals)
David Logeman (drums)
Craig Steward (harmonica)
Jimmy Carl Black (vocals)
Ahmet Zappa (vocals)
Moon Zappa (vocals)
You're the ol' lady from the society pages
From a small town somewhere I used to be
You owned the paper and a bunch of other stuff
That didn't appeal to me
OL' LADY OL'LADY
OL' LADY OL'LADY
OL' LADY OL'LADY
OL' LADY OL'LADY
The hostpital plans (yer brother drew 'em all)
You ran the paper 'n Charity Ball
Every day on the third or fourth page
There you was..you was quite the rage
Somehow you was all kinda cheap 'n wrong
Just like in a lotta small towns
Where folks like you
Hang around too long
And pass out jobs to yer relatives 'n such
So you all keeps a lot, 'n nobody else
Ever gets too much...to speak of...
So what? What can you say?
So long as the trash gets picked up
So long as the trash gets locked up
Just so the trash don't stack up
Some day you won't be on page three
Or page four anymore
OL' LADY OL'LADY
OL' LADY OL'LADY
OL' LADY OL'LADY
OL' LADY OL'LADY
By the grace of God you had a son
He's the one and only one
He grew up and by and by
He came to be a Beautiful Guy
10 Any Downers? (02:08)
Frank Zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
Ike Willis (rhythm guitar, vocals)
Ray White (rhythm guitar, vocals)
Bob Harris (boy soprano, trumpet)
Steve Vai (guitar)
Tommy Mars (keyboards)
Arthur Barrow (bass)
Ed Mann (percussion)
David Ocker (clarinet, bass clarinet)
Motorhead Sherwood (tenor saxophone, vocals)
Denny Walley (slide guitar, vocals)
David Logeman (drums)
Craig Steward (harmonica)
Jimmy Carl Black (vocals)
Ahmet Zappa (vocals)
Moon Zappa (vocals)
And all around
At the side of the grave
Stood Charlie's friends
Who could not save
This stupid girl
From the way she behaved
But among the mourners
And the frowners
A cry were heard...(aaaargh!)
ANY DOWNERS?
ANY DOWNERS?
ANY DOWNERS?
ANY DOWNERS?
No I ain't got any more
No I ain't got any more
No I ain't got any more
No I ain't got any more
Your downers are gone
They was all you could get
To ease your mind
And your deep regret
Over Charlie's mouth
So enormous 'n wet
Now all you got
Is your TV set
You turn it on
And watch and dream
A dream of love
On the tiny screeen
And what do you see
As you lay in bed?
It's a bald kinda girl
With a pointed head
Oh no...
11 Conehead (04:15)
Frank Zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
Ike Willis (rhythm guitar, vocals)
Ray White (rhythm guitar, vocals)
Bob Harris (boy soprano, trumpet)
Steve Vai (guitar)
Tommy Mars (keyboards)
Arthur Barrow (bass)
Ed Mann (percussion)
David Ocker (clarinet, bass clarinet)
Motorhead Sherwood (tenor saxophone, vocals)
Denny Walley (slide guitar, vocals)
David Logeman (drums)
Craig Steward (harmonica)
Jimmy Carl Black (vocals)
Ahmet Zappa (vocals)
Moon Zappa (vocals)
Conehead...she ain't really dumb
She's just a
Conehead...'tater chip crumbs
All over her face
Is there any more beer
Stashed away at her place? She's just a
Conhead...she can't help herself
"She's a Conehead girl..."
Pitch her a ring
That is the thing
That's getting her hot-uh
A hoop or a ring
Goin' over the top of her Conehead
"She is from a small town in France
'N she's a Conehead kind of a girl, kind
of guy"
That's what she gives me is-uh Oooh!
Conehead
When she's on her knees
The point is so high
I keep sayin' please
Keep it out of my eye, she's a
Conehead
(She's a Conehead kind of a girl, kind of
guy, kind of a girl-thing...)
Saturday Night
You're home alone
The TV lights up
As her dad comes home
He's been workin' all day
At the drivin' school
In a stupid-lookin' hat
That he uses to fool
The people of Earth
Who might get back
If they knew he was really
From Remulak, where the
Conehead...people are from, where the
Conehead...people go to, when the
Conehead...people are done with their
Conehead...things that are fun
Connie the cone
Is dressed real neat
Like a teen-age girl
From down the street
But Mom 'n Dad
They don't approve
Carbohydrates
Is all they groove
Connie's eye
Has a tiny tear
But they rinse it away
With a case of beer
A bag of chips
'N fiberglass
Her diet's a riot
I can't keep quiet
I'd love to try it
But I think I'll pass
To eat that kind of stuff they pack
You'd hafta be from *Remulak*, where the
Conehead...people are from, where the
Conehead...people go to, when the
Conehead...people are done with the
Conehead...things that are fun, where the
Conehead...people are from, where the
Conehead...people go to, when the
Conehead...people are done, with the
Conehead...things that are fun
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