CAPTAIN BEEFHEART: TROUT MASK REPLICA (1969)
1) Frownland; 2) The Dust
Blows Forward 'N The Dust Blows Back; 3) Dachau Blues; 4) Ella Guru; 5) Hair
Pie: Bake 1; 6) Moonlight On Vermont; 7) Pachuco Cadaver; 8) Bills Corpse; 9) Sweet
Sweet Bulbs; 10) Neon Meate Dream Of A Octafish; 11) China Pig; 12) My Human
Gets Me Blues; 13) Dali's Car; 14) Hair Pie: Bake 2; 15) Pena; 16) Well; 17) When
Big Joan Sets Up; 18) Fallin' Ditch; 19) Sugar 'N Spikes; 20) Ant Man Bee; 21) Orange
Claw Hammer; 22) Wild Life; 23) She's Too Much For My Mirror; 24) Hobo Chang Ba;
25) The Blimp (Mousetrapreplica); 26) Steal Softly Thru Snow; 27) Old Fart At
Play; 28) Veteran's Day Poppy.
Trout. Was there ever anybody out there before
who'd thought of using the word «trout» for the title of an LP or any
significantly large musical composition (bar Schubert, perhaps, and even then
he was not the inventor of the title)? The word has an odd flavor all by
itself, and if you have a personage named Captain Beefheart who has an album
with the word «trout» in it, that's oddness squared. But wait, we're not over
yet — apparently, there's a «trout mask». So the guy's name is Beefheart, and
he is impersonating a trout. Or is it a trout that is impersonating a guy
called Beefheart? And who'd wear a trout mask, anyway, and for what symbolic
purposes? And now comes the deadliest part — it's not even an actual mask, it's
a replica of a mask. A fake image of
a fake disguise of a guy called Captain Beefheart as a trout. That's at least
three different layers of self-containing, straightforward, unfunny and
un-ironic nonsense staring us right in the face, and we haven't even begun
listening to the music yet.
The story of Trout Mask Replica has long since passed into legend and is easily
discoverable in zillions of books and Web resources, although, as time goes by,
it becomes harder and harder to verify which parts of it are documentally true
and which ones are not — for instance, I have always been fascinated by stories
of how Beefheart allegedly acted as a tyrannical guru for the members of his
band, bordering on hypnotism as he «subdued them to his will», locking them up
in his house until they'd learned to reproduce his crazy musical ideas on their
instruments. Apparently, though, they were
convinced that he was a musical genius, and were willing to endure this
physical and emotional torture just to add their names to the roster of heroes
who would change the musical world forever — without much hope of any financial
gain in the process. But, again, just how many of the particular anecdotes
about The Magic Band in mid-'69 are documentally true and how many are due to
the legend feeding off itself, remains unclear.
What is perfectly clear is that, whatever charm
and fascination the music of Trout Mask
Replica may have in store for humanity, nobody ever has managed to be perfectly
clear about explaining it. If you are a neophyte, have just taken your first
swipe at this thing, and are running around the Internet, trying to find
explanations, suggestions, and medical support, you are most likely to end up
frustrated, because the typical amateur review of TMR goes like this: «Oh, I really hated this at first. It made me
sick and disgusted. But then I wanted to experience the sickness and disgust
some more, and I listened to it again, and again and again... and upon the n-th listen, it really clicked. Now I
think it's just great. Such a great album. So weird, so unlike everything else,
so great. Great, great, great. It has completely changed my life. Beefheart
forever! Such a great masterpiece. I even threw all my other records away,
because I can't listen to them anymore without getting bored. Give it a try...
heck, give it five, six, sixty tries, eventually you'll realize it's the
greatest of the greatest just like I did. Fast and bulbous — that's the key!»
So, for a change, it might interest you to read
a few words from a guy who actually gave
TMR quite a bit of a fair chance —
been revisiting it occasionally, once a year or so, over the past 15 years of
my life — and whose life, believe it or not, still remains to be changed by the
experience. In my original review, I gave it an 11/15 rating, which, I now
realize, was sort of an insult: TMR
just cannot be considered a «middle ground» rating. You either love this record
or you hate it; you either respect it with admiration or despise it with the
utmost contempt. My attitude is one of admirable respect — yet at the same time
I still «hate» it in that I have never, ever experienced the slightest
emotional attachment to it, and blame that quite explicitly on the boldness of
the Captain's musical decisions.
Indeed, TMR
marks the peak of Beefheart's adventurousness. A very telling fact is that,
although the record is a double LP, the length is achieved not through
long-winded jamming improvisations (which would be the obvious thing to expect
from 1969), but through an overabundant excess of individual musical ideas —
the longest track on the album barely runs over five minutes, and, on the
average, few tracks cross the 2:00 – 2:30 mark. The man's creative juices were
overflowing, as he wrote a ton of new poems / lyrics and set each one to a
distinct «melody» that seemed to challenge every conventional standard ever
made. Of course, he didn't go as far as invent all the new rules completely
from scratch, but he did «deconstruct» and completely subvert the harmonic
structure of pop, folk, blues, and even jazz idioms in ways that made even
Zappa sound like a teen pop idol in comparison. It is not for nothing, of
course, that the man put ʽFrownlandʼ as the first track: "My smile is
stuck / I cannot go back t' yer Frownland... / I want my own land / Take my
hand 'n come with me / It's not too late for you / It is not too late for
me". Well, it might be too late for me,
after all, but that does not mean I have to so thoroughly refuse to take the
brave Captain's hand for a brief while, anyway.
If there is one thing that could be considered
disappointing, it is how predictable
the record eventually turns out to be in its unpredictability. As ʽFrownlandʼ
begins, we witness the major secret of TMR
unveiled: each of the players is playing a slightly — or seriously — different
melody that is slightly — or seriously — out of key with every other one. The
trick is in not making the final result sound like a complete cacophony, and
indeed, the tracks have some sort of weird logic of their own: always on the
brink of falling apart, yet in reality held together quite tightly by hours and
hours and hours of thorough rehearsals (as most of you probably already know,
nothing here is said to be improvised — all of these parts were diligently
learnt by the musicians in advance). Enjoying
this music, though, is a feat for true weirdos of the Beefheart order, because,
let's face it, as decent as those musicians were, they had too much trouble
learning to play the odd parts and keep in relative sync with each other to
actually invest much feeling into
these parts. Every time I listen to any of these songs, I can almost feel the
tremendous strain on everybody's brains, ears, eyes, and hands — I can't say
that those guys were having as much fun recording this stuff as, say, some of
the better improvisational free-form jazz artists, or even King Crimson, for
that matter. They get the machine going, and it goes on without stalling or
falling apart — that's more or less enough for them.
Something like the instrumental ʽHair Pieʼ
(both of its «bakes»), as complex as it is, essentially follows the formula of
«take a straightforward blues jam, and make it slanted on all sides». The
results are easy to admire — it takes a lot
of work to play everything slightly out of tune, slightly discordant, slightly
un-harmonic, and keep that steady wobble up for several minutes — but difficult
to interpret in an emotional / spiritual dimension. So yes, they do everything
a little bit wrong, and they do it on purpose, and they practice for this, and
it takes time and effort, and... what for? Merely to show us how it can be
done, to shatter the walls of the conventional? But if anything, this
shattering proves that the
«conventional walls» weren't established by some evil tyrant to bind and rob us
of our creativity — they were established based on certain natural laws, just
like our human bodies. (This reasoning has made me, more than once, dream of an
experiment in which a newly born child, for the first several years of his/her
life, would be continuously exposed to nothing but Trout Mask Replica — although I sure hope no parent would ever be that cruel in real life. But if you do
happen to have a toddler, you can probably at least check out the toddler's
reaction to ʽDachau Bluesʼ. Would the toddler be willing to prance around to
the happy sounds of that, or any of the other, tracks on here?).
On the other hand, if we do accept this for an
answer — yes, they are just doing
that to shatter the formalities and the foundations — it is at least a legit
excuse for the existence of TMR. For
one thing, it is impossible to deny the influence
of this platter. Numerous avantgarde and semi-avantgarde bands took the album
as their banner in order to produce music that was, perhaps, somewhat less
arrogant and more conventional, but could actually be enjoyed on a subconscious
level, and, most importantly, it showed the world that you could stay in a
«pop» format and be vastly experimental without having to embrace the droning,
Eastern-influenced psychedelic trappings of contemporary bands. Instead of
going around looking for different sets of rules, you could stay with the ones
you already had, but just tweak them around a bit — and see what happens. The
only catch was that, in order for it all to look legit, you'd have to have a
madman in charge: Van Vliet fully qualified, but many of his successors in the
field were not.
And speaking of madmen, it's a whole different
thing when the Captain actually establishes his presence on these songs. ʽHair
Pieʼ-like instrumentals are one thing, but otherwise, you can just treat the backing tracks as a sort of white noise
accompaniment for a beat poetry recital (not too far from the truth,
considering that Beefheart actually heard very little of the music while overdubbing
his vocals). Sometimes, the poetry is sheer surrealist nonsense, but otherwise,
it makes plenty of sense, beginning with the individualistic manifesto of
ʽFrownlandʼ and all the way to the metaphoric loneliness of the ending ʽVeteran
Day's Poppyʼ. ʽDachau Bluesʼ is an almost too straightforward tirade against
World War III (although anti-Zionists might have a field day with the song,
too, if they offer a personal interpretation of the line "those poor
Jews... still cryin' 'bout the burnin' back in world war two..."); ʽMy
Human Gets Me Bluesʼ is the madman's equivalent of a heartfelt serenade to a
loved one ("You look dandy in the sky but you don't scare me / Cause I got
you here in my eye"); ʽElla Guruʼ is the madman's take on the «put down a
female socialite» garage genre; and all over, all over the place you get clear
signs of a deeply felt frustration and desperation at the sorry state of
humanity, perhaps best summarized in one line from ʽSteal Softly Thru Snowʼ —
"man's lived a million years 'n still he kills".
As a result, one thing I can feel on the record — against all of its quasi-musical noise,
rather than aided by it — is the big, beefy heart of the brave Cap'n. Even if
he is being hysterical all the time, and making very little use of God's
greatest physical gift to him (that four-and-a-half-octave range), I have no
reason to doubt the sincerity and honest motivation of that hysteria; if there
is one thing TMR does exactly right,
it is presenting Don Van Vliet as a sensitive, humanistic human being whose
surrealistic manners are not just masking his lack of substance — in that
respect, it is a very clear advance on the two previous albums, where music
took clear precedence over the lyrical and personal content (and, at least in
the case of Strictly Personal, a
very poor precedence it was). Even something like "I don't wanna kill my
china pig", despite being rather, um, allegorical, still sounds like a
fairly benevolent statement.
Perhaps the biggest support in favor of the
argument that I am putting here comes from Beefheart's subsequent career
itself. With the possible exception of Lick
My Decals Off, not a single one of his future albums would even dare come
close to the craziness of the musical structures of TMR — the lyrics of his
subsequent albums, though, as well as the vocal moods into which he prodded
himself during the sessions, would often remain similar. Which, in a sense,
makes TMR an intellectually
fascinating musical dead end: a collection of «anti-tune-like tunes» for those
who'd like to experience, if only for a brief while, what it is like to step
out of the spaceship without a spacesuit on. To that end, it remains a unique
curiosity; but I still hesitate to call it «great», if only because using such
a lazy, trivial term for such an arduous, non-trivial record would be an insult
by itself. I do suppose that everybody — yes, even including Britney Spears
fans — could find it useful to sit through this record at least once. But
anybody who honestly finds himself addicted
to this record (and I do mean honestly,
rather than merely doing the cool thing to do) is probably in serious need of
psychiatric help. And no, that's not a condescending remark or anything — after
all, wasn't the record itself created by one of the biggest madmen in the
business? Fast and bulbous, man. Fast and bulbous. Thumbs... oh wait, I do
believe that my thumbs are stuck, I cannot go back t' yer Thumbland.
Well, I don't love this album and I don't hate it. Something must be wrong with me.
ReplyDeleteAdmirable, fun, but no further enotional resonance -- sums it up nicely.
ReplyDeleteCheck out 'Another Green World' or 'Before and After Science' for the ultimate Enotional resonance.
DeleteTwo favorites of mine -- I have to thank George for tuning me in to Brian Eno on his old page.
Delete" But if anything, this shattering proves that the «conventional walls» weren't established by some evil tyrant to bind and rob us of our creativity — they were established based on certain natural laws, just like our human bodies. "
ReplyDeleteGeorge, I just want to say that the above is one of the most intriguing lines I've come across in a music review. It goes along nicely with some other things I've been pondering as a traditionalist Christian, but I won't bore anyone with those thoughts here.
I actually do want to thank you for the Beefheart reviews on your main site. I've slowly been getting acquainted with the good Captain's work and your praise and for his non-Trout albums has been helpful. Count me as another fan who thinks Shiny Beast is his best work.
I am glad an album like this exists, marking just about the farthest one can warp pop and blues music. However, it is sort of sad that it has come to define Beefheart's career in ways that aren't really fair.
"They get the machine going, and it goes on without stalling or falling apart — that's more or less enough for them." Southern California Hippie Motorik.
ReplyDelete"Even if he is being hysterical all the time, and making very little use of God's greatest physical gift to him (that four-and-a-half-octave range), I have no reason to doubt the sincerity and honest motivation of that hysteria;" I agree, the guy was actually a pretty good vocalist--I can't use the term singer. He might be sincere, but like a lot of Zappa, it appeals to me on a humorous level, not emotionally. Nobody mentions "The Dust Blows Forward" but that thing made me smile, even though I can't tell you why. And he clearly likes poking fun a hippie nonsense; "Neon Meate Dream" to my ears is a sarcastic parody of an ultra-serious beat poet. And he is a great blues singer, for what that's worth.
It's a big mistake to even begin to compare this album to mainstream pop music. It has no relation to the kind of music produced by the Beatles for example. Even hip hop, with its limited melodies and chord structures is infinitely more conventional.
ReplyDeleteThe best categories are noise rock or free flowing jazz. The important point is that the instruments are not there to support the melody of the vocalist, although they do in some cases. They're intended for effect. It's a bit like when I was at school, in music class a kid would read out a long poem and the other kids would play percussion instruments in the background to create an atmosphere or background.
When I first came across this album I found it unlistenable because I was expecting a variation of pop music. When you understand this album, you recognise it as being a very bold artistic statement of its own. For me, it is perfect for a theatrical performance, with random instruments and parts being played, perhaps by the audience, because the point is not to reproduce the music but to recreate the atmosphere of the album.
Just to add one thing, the point about the parts being extensively rehearsed is a massive red herring and I think has maybe contributed to this album being misunderstood. It may be true, but it's completely incidental to the artistic statement and probably was a reflection of his obsessive personality rather than the end product.
Delete"Every time I listen to any of these songs, I can almost feel the tremendous strain on everybody's brains, ears, eyes, and hands —".
ReplyDeleteYes. Number one problem is the real stiffness to a number of the performances. [If they'd pulled off Steal Softly... in the manner of the French lead reformed Magic Band it'd be a different beas altogether].
The John French book leaves one feeling that whatever the Captian's vision may have been, it wasn't realised on the record.
These days I rarely feel like listening to the whole thing but I enjoy ipod shuffle throwing up a track once in a while. I'd be happy never to hear China Pig or Hobo again but I'm rather fond of Fallin' Ditch.
The "answer," for me at least, is that it's fun. It's a goofy romp that makes me laugh. Though I do wish the enthusiasm shown by the Captain was shared by the often stilted musicians.
ReplyDeleteStill writing nonsense I see. Great album and there's nothing to get beyond killer riffs (frequently bluesbased BTW) put together in an intriguing manner, cool rhythms and one of the most unique lyricists and vocalists in rock. I swear, people who find this record "oh so weird" or emperors new clothes or whatever have not spent much time listening to Cecil Taylor, Anthony Braxton or Stockhausen for that matter... I like all that stuff and I like this record and I like Kiss and Mötley Crue and Beach Boys as well. You people? A bunch of squares arguing about the "answer" and "predictability". Is predictability a problem on an AC/DC or Ramones record? No. Why should it be it here? Because the ideas are "weird"? Just seems like a bullshit argument and pointless criticism to me
ReplyDeleteGood for you, Jakob!
DeleteI see you still cannot 'get' music that fails any logical explanation. Beefheart was not normal, his thought patterns were not normal. In this day and age, he would be classified as mentally ill and probably locked up. George, you simply cannot compare Beefheart music using a general 'prism' - if the prism is classic rock and pop. That comparison doesn't work. Listen to this again - but if you are to remotely understand it - you yourself need to get 'out there'. Drink Vodka, Smoke, I don't care. But, if you do not do those things you will never ever understand the genius of this recording.
ReplyDelete"Beefheart was not normal, his thought patterns were not normal. In this day and age, he would be classified as mentally ill and probably locked up."
DeleteWell, considering that the guy had a reputation of being a total asshole, at least to his collaborators, that's not surprising.
As for the album itself, I think one thing that's overlooked is how often the album bounces between chaotic and accessible, at least to me. You're first belted about by the first three tracks, then you enter a period of calm between "Ella Guru" and "Pachuco Cadaver"*, then thrown back into crazy with "Bill's Corpse" and so forth. Don't know if it was the Captain, the Magic Band, Zappa or even all three who made it like that, but whoever it was, I applaud them for that little detail. It gives the album a nice flow and prevents it from sinking in its own weight.
*Probably my favorite on the album and a possible contender for Top Ten Beefheart songs.