One Track Mind: Frank Zappa "Willie The Pimp" (1969)

by Pico

Frank Zappa has to be the most well-known and influential weird rock star but his campiness played a much smaller role for that vast influence than most people think. Instead, it was his extreme open-mindedness in making modern music. His equal love for Stravinksy, Varèse and doo-wop created concoctions that to this day sound confusing for most but excited more serious rock stars from his time to the present because of the possibilities they presented.

Indeed, while the Beatles, Dylan and the Beach Boys pushed out the boundaries of rock in 1966, Zappa's debut album Freak Out obliterated those boundaries that same year.

Even Zappa himself was ready to put that notorious penchant for gutter humor aside for the most part when he disbanded the original Mothers Of Invention in 1969 and assembled together some hired guns for Hot Rats. That album became an early classic of jazz-rock, and for good reason. Not only did it contain such perfectly constructed songs like "Peaches En Regalia," but it was arguably the first fusion album to be recorded decently. Rats was one of the earliest records to use a sixteen-track recorder and being the studio geek that he was, Zappa meticulously mixed and edited the raw tracks. That resulted in a super clean recording that really doesn't date itself to 1969 or any other particular year.

The whole record was instrumental...well, almost. For the second cut "Willie The Pimp," Zappa brought in childhood friend Don Vliet aka Captain Beefheart to lend his trademark Howlin' Wolf growl to some brief lyrics about a "a little pimp with my hair gassed back" while Sugarcane Harris' violin supplies the song's riff---actually the riff is the song.

So, why am I pimping it? Because of Zappa's guitar work, that's why!

As Vliet is winding down his little bit with hoops and hollers, ZP's heavily phased axe comes into focus and for the first time, most of the world finds out that not only can the man compose, arrange and record, but he's a mighty fine guitar player to boot. We're not talking one of these succinct, thirty-second solo's either; Zappa starts his flight at around 1:15 mark and goes all the way to the song's end more than eight minutes later. During that time, Zappa is spewing out all kinds of blues-based licks that are mostly cliché-free (although thanks to so many copycats they are probably considered clichés today) and sounds nasty, aggressive and full of ideas.

I've read sometime back an article which held up this solo as an example of overindulgent wankery. That's just dumb. If a guy has got his mojo going, you don't stop him. Guitar gods like Steve Vai and Mike Keneally don't acquire their vast chops transcribing solos from a hack.

That a fella who could compose entire symphonies rip it up like that on guitar helps to explain why Zappa the most singular figure in rock music. All joking aside.

Sample: Frank Zappa "Willie The Pimp"

Purchase: Frank Zappa - Hot Rats


"One Track Mind" is a more-or-less weekly drool over a single song selected on a whim and a short thesis on why you should be drooling over it, too.

Marco Benevento - Invisible Baby (2008)

by Pico

In the wild world of underground instrumental music, Marco Benevento is a newcomer as a leader, but he's no stranger to the scene. The thirty-year old Berklee School of Music grad studied jazz piano under Joanne Brackeen, Kenny Werner and Brad Mehldau and set up shop in New York City seven years ago cultivating credibility gigging there. Eventually, he settled into a duo format with high school buddy drummer Joe Russo and the two cut four albums together. In 2006, they formed part of phormer Phish leader Trey Anastasio's tour band. The following year, Benevento finally debuted as a solo artist with his sprawling, three-cd live document Live At Tonic.

Which brings us to the present. This month, with Invisible Baby, Benevento debuts in the more customary sense: a studio albums with all selections written by Beneventos himself.

None of what has been recounted thus far says much about what kind of music Benevento plays, at least for the album being discussed, here. That's the tough part about writing this review.

Benevento's signature sound, at least on Invisible Baby, is familiar yet nearly impossible to pin down. Since it's all instrumental and some quality chops being displayed, there's the temptation to call it "jazz," but that doesn't do his music any proper justice. I first listened to this record with a jazz ear and found it lacking. You can find signs of Mehldau's strong melodic sense, for instance, but little of his cerebral improvising. The songs stubbornly don't swing. The chords played usually aren't jazz chords.

Taken as a form of experimental rock, though, and you've got a creative, imaginative brew of ideas. Even coherent.

Benevento is fond of conjuring up an ostinato, adorn it with some electronic effects laid upon a bedrock of piano, go several rounds with it before switching over to a different repeating figure. A key to making it succeed is that these vintage-sounding electronics, which he calls "circuit bent toys"---a homemade array of effects pedals---provide a sideshow to the tunes and not take center stage away from his substantial piano. The other primary ingredient is that these songs are rock in spirit, tone and rhythm. Some people would call all this post-rock.

The leader is accompanied on this record by bassist Reed Mathis (whose band, The Jacob Fred Jazz Odyssey, will be profiled on this space in the near future) and drummer Matt Chamberlain, the first call session drummer who made that wonderful Floratone record with Bill Frisell last year.

Your sense of musical conventions for rock is challenged by Beneventos right from the get-go with "Bus Ride," which employs a lumbering but powerful beat, a fuzzed-out bass, a mellotron and banjo(!). The piano and the thematic lines expounded from it make up the focal point of the song, however.

Andrew Barr sits in for Chamberlain on three cuts, including the gently meditative "Record Book" and another ballad tune, the waltzing dedication to Beneventos' young daughter, "Ruby." On both of these selections, Beneventos reveals a real strong knack for constructing gorgeous melodies that are marked by gradually building crescendos.

Chamberlain himself does some nifty work on the kit for "Atari," effortlessly syncopating the strong beat. He nimbly slides between two time signatures on "You Must Be A Lion," which is such a deadgummed good tune in a Radiohead kind of way that it deserves some lyrics so it could get some radio play.

This risk with relying on electronic gimmicks, of course, is that the music becomes too gimmicky, and Benevento has a propensity to lead off almost every tune with some superfluous shtick of that nature. The songs become markedly better once the gadgety sounds get out of the way, which tends to highlight further how little they add to the songs to begin with.

Invisible Baby does do a nice job overall of presenting the quirky but tuneful songs of an up-and-coming talent. Those who enjoy rock side of The Bad Plus or Umphrey's McGee might find some common ground with Benevento's brand of instrumental vibes. Even George Winston fans can connect to this. His first proper release holds the promise of even greater things to come. Had Benevento put away his circuit bent toys for a little more of Baby, though, he would already have a bonafide winner on his hands.

Invisible Baby became commercially available to the public on February 12.


Purchase: Marco Benevento - Invisible Baby

Gerry Mulligan, Shorty Rogers, Miles Davis, "Birth of the Cool, Vol. 2" (1992)

NICK DERISO: Volume 2 gives an idea of how considerable a wake the 1940s Miles Davis Nonet left.

Taking its name from Davis' legendary 1950 recording, this welcome, if belated, compilation scoops up all of the Capitol cuts from the early '50s by two of the nonet's most important disciples, Shorty Rogers and his Giants and the Gerry Mulligan Tentette.

Mulligan, one of the original members of Davis Nonet, played with Rogers years before in the Stan Kenton Orchestra, so collecting the threesome here is foot-stampingly apropos. They're notable, too, in that the eight Mulligan tracks are the only ones recorded with a 10-piece he organized in 1952, with Chet Baker taking a brilliant turn on trumpet.

The album's topper comes late, and doesn't hang around for long: Miles Davis and the Metronome All-Stars only appear on the final two tracks. Davis is joined by a constellation of jazz greats, including Stan Getz on the tenor, George Shearing at piano, Max Roach on drums and Terry Gibbs on vibes.

Shearing's "Local 802 Blues," which closes the album, gets everybody in on the act, with a series of thrilling, paired-off solos.

That makes it more than a nice companion piece to the original "Birth of the Cool" masterpiece. The result, in fact, is a primer on the West Coast sound that's wider and deeper in scope.

Now, some say Rogers' group invented that jazz sub genre with the six songs collected here. (They also appeared in 1952 on a record called "Modern Sounds.") But, again, these are all guys on loan from the Kenton band, and Davis' record with producer Gil Evans came first -- so I think they need to be part of the conversation, too.



Purchase: Gerry Mulligan, Shorty Rogers, Miles Davis - Birth of the Cool, Vol. 2

Best. George Harrison solo stuff. Ever.

NICK DERISO: George Harrison, who would have been 65 today, remains the Beatles' great unresolved mystery -- the guy who might have actually done more had he been in any another band after 1965.

Or not. His solo records are a frustrating mix of the sublime, the blatant and the unremarkable. Sometimes within a three-song sweep. Sometimes within the same song.

Thus, the unresolved part. George seemed as at odds as any world-famous person ever was with that very fame. He often only made records -- in particular, in the days after his association with the outsized, and more than occasionally overbearing, talents of John and Paul -- when he was made to, and it showed.

No surprise, then, that it's difficult to achieve a vista after 1970. "All Things Must Pass" could be a bloated, if admirable, mess. The mid-1970s were, at best, hit and miss. The 1980s were worse.

Even inside George's subsequent commercial renaissance with producer/sessions man/doppelganger Jeff Lynne -- from the 1987 comeback "Cloud Nine," the Traveling Wilburys and some soundtrack work, and then finally through Harrison's untimely passing before the release of 2002's "Brainwashed" -- there were some obvious clunkers.

That's where we come in. DaSlob, in our birthday gift to you, has gone through the stacks to provide the must-have tunes. Call it The Only George Harrison Solo Stuff You'll Ever Need.

The songs are sequenced in the order we'd burn them for a take-home CD:

RISING SUN (2002, "Brainwashed")
We've raved about this one before.

HANDLE WITH CARE (1988, "Traveling Wilburys, Vol. 1")
The inspiration for two Wilburys records that followed, this was originally a b-side knockoff -- and it retains a rare and still contagious spontaneity. The title, for instance, came from a cautionary sticker Harrison saw on a nearby instrument packing case.

LET IT DOWN (1970, "All Things Must Pass")
Asked what he thought of his monumental, turn-of-the-1970s three-disc debut during a remastering session 30 years later, Harrison simply said: "Too much echo." That's why we prefer the long-bootlegged demo of this song, which first appeared in an early 1990s underground disc called "Beware of ABKCO" -- and then as a bonus track on that redone edition of "ATMP." The stripped-down version of "Let It Down" best illustrates how so much of Harrison's pent-up songcraft instantly resonated, even as first drafts.

DON'T LET ME WAIT TOO LONG (1973, "Living in the Material World")
The original working title of this album was "The Magic Is Here Again," and this is perhaps the only song from the long-awaited studio follow up to "All Things Must Pass" that approaches that kind of hyperbole. A masterpiece of coiled anticipation.

MY SWEET LORD (1970, "All Things Must Pass")
An American publishing company won a $600,000 judgment after claiming that this sounded too much like the early 1960s hit "He's So Fine." The judge ruled that Harrison "subconsciously plagiarized" the song; George argued -- and this is the good part -- that he got the idea not from the Chiffons but from the Edwin Hawkins Singers' "Oh Happy Day." Does George still get to count this as his first No. 1?

ALL THOSE YEARS AGO (1981, "Somewhere in England")
John Lennon's murder sparked a remarkable reunion -- Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr, Beatles producer George Martin and engineer Geoff Emerick, even Denny Laine and Linda McCartney from Wings. A song so incandescent that it almost (but not quite) makes up for the dreck found elsewhere on this album; see (or don't) the opener, "Blood from a Clone."

SO SAD (1974, "Dark Horse")
Though part of a generally more uplifting effort, this track was an outtake from "Material World," and it's got the same elegiac tone. Considering that his wife had just ran off with his best friend, you'd think they'd all sound like this. Instead, you have Patti Boyd and Eric Clapton singing back up on the Everlys' "Bye Bye Love." No kidding.

WHAT IS LIFE (1970, "All Things Must Pass")
A popular track on Harrison's six-time platinum selling solo debut (tops for any former Beatle), this towering rocker actually seemed to warrant producer Phil Spector's Tsunami of Sound approach. (A little of this goes a long way, though.) Background vocals are credited to the George O'Hara-Smith singers -- keyboardist Bobby Whitlock and Clapton, who would go on to form Derek and the Dominoes.

THAT'S WHAT IT TAKES (1987, "Cloud Nine")
Co-written with keyboardist Gary Wright (of "Dreamweaver" fame; thanks "Wayne's World!"), and featuring an understated turn on slide, this is the completely realized mid-1970s hit George never quite managed. Better late than never. Eventually showed up as the b-side to "Cheer Down," found elsewhere on our list.

GIVE ME LOVE (1973, "Living in the Material World")
A career-defining post-Beatles cut, it features Harrison's now-signature sound but is also one of his least preachy bits of sacred music -- and, perhaps it's no surprise, would become his second U.S. No. 1 hit. Though blessedly recorded without Spector, it still can't completely save George during a period marred by too many too-pious tunes.

BEWARE OF DARKNESS (1970, "All Things Must Pass")
Harrison's first, best album's best song -- one where he perfectly matches a lyrical meditation on overcoming life's harder moments (refusing to give into "the pain that often lingers") with the sound, mysticism and fury of one of the early 1970s greatest amalgamations of sidemen. Originally opened side three of this post-Fab creative outburst.

VATICAN BLUES (2002, "Brainwashed")
Though Harrison, then suffering from throat cancer, sounds a bit reedy at times, he pulls off a couple of final rapscallion barbs -- including this throw-back rocker. George was always good for a put-down song.

YOU (1975, "Extra Texture")
Recorded for singer Ronnie Spector during the sessions that produced "All Things Must Pass" five years before (and using the same cast-of-thousands backing band), Harrison simply dubbed his own vocal over hers -- and then released it, to moderate success. Funny thing, it's still the best song on this album.

I'D HAVE YOU ANYTIME (1970, "All Things Must Pass")
Every bit as moving as "Abbey Road" triumphs like "Something," with a Beatle-ish guitar signature and a lyrical assist by Bob Dylan. I always thought "I'd Have You Anytime" was a gutsy opening song for such an enormous undertaking.

CHEER DOWN (1989, "Lethal Weapon 2")
Co-written by Wilbury buddy Tom Petty, this was once one of the more hard-to-find gems from a period of offhanded delights. Produced in a surprisingly contemporary style, tongue is firmly placed in cheek throughout. ("When your teeth drop out, you'll get by even without taking a bite. ...") Later widely issued as a single upon the release of "Best of Dark Horse."

YOUR LOVE IS FOREVER (1979, "George Harrison")
One of Harrison's most enduring ballads, it could have gotten lost in an adult-contemporary-ish album that is occasionally too airy and slickly mid-tempo -- and one that, somehow, includes yet another needless update of a Beatles cut, "Here Comes the Moon." Don't let that distract from this comfy triumph, which includes some of Harrison's lovliest slide work.

CRACKERBOX PALACE (1976, "Thirty-Three and a Third")
The album's title -- a take off on the RPMs for old vinyl and George's age on the proposed release date -- held great whimsical promise. Only the record wasn't released until his 33 2/3 birthday. It was downhill from there, save for this Top 20 hit -- and "This Song," about that Chiffons mess. "Crackerbox Palace," by the way, was about the estate of friend Lord Buckley, a British comedian -- giving an expectedly different spin (for George, anyway) on the line: "Know that the Lord is well."

UNKNOWN DELIGHT (1983, "Gone Troppo")
An album that included the principal tune from the hit film "Time Bandits," which George produced, along with a catchy, if slight single in "Wake Up My Love," "Gone Troppo" is nevertheless sunk by ham-fisted production touches, including some then-trendy synths. Still, "Unknown Delight," this lovingly crafted song written for his son Dhani, remains a terrific reason to delve into what turned out to be one of George's most uptempo, if instantly dated, releases.

IF NOT FOR YOU (1970, "All Things Must Pass")
Included on Dylan's "New Morning" album, this is another intimate, atmospheric moment that nicely counterbalances the excesses found elsewhere here. Alan White, who played drums during these sessions, said Lennon provided some uncredited guitar work. Later ruined by Olivia Newton-John.

WRECK OF THE HESPERUS (1987, "Cloud Nine")
A sharp and snarky rocker, it's everything the hit single "Got My Mind Set On You" from this record aspired to, but never quite achieved. The title is a colloquial term by the Brits in reference to a disheveled appearance, and opens the door for a series middle-aged hopes and fears: "I'm not the wreck of the Hesperus, feel more like the Wall of China; getting old as Methuselah. ... " Love the Big Bill Broonzy reference, too.

BE HERE NOW (1973, "Living in the Material World")
This is the quiet, then soaringly meditative song George was trying to make with the Beatles on the White Album's interminable "Long, Long, Long." Featuring a drone played on the tanpura, the title comes from one of George's favorite books by Baba Ram Dass.

STUCK INSIDE A CLOUD (2002, "Brainwashed")
Harrison's plaintive tone makes for a devastatingly fragile moment -- "never slept so little, never smoked so much; lost my concentration, I could even lose my touch" -- on this final release, with some appropriately sensitive production by Jeff Lynne.

WHEN WE WAS FAB (1987, "Cloud Nine")
Harrison finally came to terms the Fabs' psychedelic successes in a tune of bittersweet reverie, even then. Ringo kicks things off, then keeps time on an ageless track that eventually reveals itself as both tribute and send up.

ALL THINGS MUST PASS (1970, "All Things Must Pass")
A must have. Even so, we'd opt for Harrison's original demo for what became the title track to his solo debut. Auditioned as the Beatles worked on "Let It Be," this version wasn't issued until the mid-1990s on the third "Anthology" album. Purpled with emotion, somehow darker than the studio version -- and that's saying something.

BLOW AWAY (1979, "George Harrison")
A sublime, soul-lifting track about clearing skies and opening hearts. This song has aged as well as any 1970s-era solo Beatle hit. Maybe better. After all, we're talking about tunes like "Listen To What the Man Said" and "The No No Song."