Understanding America

Understanding America

(Frank Zappa, 2CD, Zappa Records/UME ZR3892, October 30, 2012)

disc 1

  1. Hungry Freaks, Daddy 3:28
  2. Plastic People 3:42
  3. Mom & Dad 2:17
  4. It Can't Happen Here 3:07
  5. Who Are The Brain Police? 3:33
  6. Who Needs The Peace Corps? 2:35
  7. Brown Shoes Don't Make It 7:29
  8. Concentration Moon 2:17
  9. Trouble Every Day 5:08
  10. You're Probably Wondering Why I'm Here 3:36
  11. We're Turning Again 4:55
  12. Road Ladies 4:08
  13. What Kind Of Girl Do You Think We Are? 4:33
  14. Camarillo Brillo 3:53
  15. Find Her Finer 3:34
  16. Dinah-Moe Humm 6:02
  17. Disco Boy 4:19
  18. 200 Years Old 4:30

disc 2

  1. I'm The Slime 2:35
  2. Be In My Video 3:37
  3. I Don't Even Care (FZ/Watson) 3:48
  4. Can't Afford No Shoes 2:38
  5. Heavenly Bank Account 3:16
  6. Cocaine Decisions 2:52
  7. Dumb All Over 4:03
  8. Promiscuous 2:03
  9. Thing-Fish Intro 2:56
  10. The Central Scrutinizer 2:50
  11. Porn Wars Deluxe 25:51
  12. Tinsel Town Rebellion 3:43
  13. Jesus Thinks You're A Jerk 9:18

Conceived & produced by FZ (except where indicated)

Vaultmeisterment by Joe Travers, UMRK, 2008
Mastered by Bob Ludwig, Gateway Mastering, 2008

Design by Michael Mesker
Cover photo by Doug Metz, 1975
Other photos by Diva Zappa, 2012
Manuscript & Menu Art by FZ
Art & other directions by GZ
Production Manager—Melanie Starks

NOTE: As there are no musician credits on the album booklet, the individual listings for each song are only educated guesses based on close listening and the information found on the original albums.

1. Hungry Freaks, Daddy 3:28

T.T.G. Studios, LA
March 9, 1966

Produced by Tom Wilson
Director of engineering for MGM: Val Valentin
Engineers: Ami Hadani & Tom Hidley

FZ—lead guitar & vocals
Ray Collins—vocals, tambourine
Jim Black—drums
Roy Estrada—bass
Elliot Ingber—guitar
+
Eugene DiNovi—piano
Gene Estes—percussion
Neil LeVang—guitar

Mister America
Walk on by
Your schools that do not teach
Mister America
Walk on by
The minds that won't be reached
Mister America
Try to hide
The emptiness that's you inside
When once you find that the way you lied
And all the corny tricks you tried
Will not forestall the rising tide of
Hungry freaks, Daddy . . .

They won't go
For no more
Great mid-western hardware store
Philosophy that turns away
From those who aren't afraid to say
What's on their minds
(The left-behinds of the Great Society)

Hungry freaks, Daddy . . .

Mister America
Walk on by
Your supermarket dream
Mister America
Walk on by
The liquor store supreme
Mister America
Try to hide
The product of your savage pride
The useful minds that it denied
The day you shrugged and stepped aside
You saw their clothes and then you cried:
THOSE HUNGRY FREAKS, DADDY!

They won't go
For no more
Great mid-western hardware store
Philosophy that turns away
From those who aren't afraid to say
What's on their minds
(The left-behinds of the Great Society)

2. Plastic People 3:42

includes quotations from Louie Louie (Berry)

T.T.G. Studios, LA
November 15, 1966

Produced by Tom Wilson
Director of engineering for MGM: Val Valentin
Engineer: Ami Hadani

FZ—guitar, vocals
Ray Collins—vocals, tambourine
Jim Fielder—guitar
Don Preston—keyboards
Bunk Gardner—woodwinds
Roy Estrada—bass, vocals
Jim Black—drums, vocals
Billy Mundi—drums, percussion

Ladies & Gennelmen . . . the PRESIDENT of the UNITED STATES!

Fella Americans . . .
DOOT, DOOT, DOOT . . . DOOT . . .
He's been sick.
DOO-OO-OOT . . . DOOT! DOOT!
(Teet-Teet . . . Teet-Teet . . . Teet-Teet . . . Teet-Teet-Teet)
And I think his wife is gonna bring him some chicken soup.
DOOT, DOOT (Teet-Teet)

Plastic people
Oh baby, now . . .
You're such a drag

(I know it's hard to defend an unpopular policy every once in a while . . . )

Plastic people
Oh baby, now
You're such a drag

(And there's this guy from the CIA and he's creeping around Laurel Canyon . . . )

A fine little girl
She waits for me
She's as plastic
As she can be
She paints her face
With plastic goo
And wrecks her hair
With some shampoo

Plastic people
Oh baby, now
You're such a drag

(I dunno . . . sometimes I just get tired of ya, honey . . . it's—Ah—your hair spray . . . or something.)

Plastic people
Oh baby!
You're such a drag

(I hear the sound of marching feet . . . down Sunset Blvd. to Crescent Heights, and there, at Pandora's Box, we are confronted with . . . a vast quantity of PLASTIC PEOPLE.)

Take a day
And walk around
Watch the nazis
Run your town
Then go home
And check yourself
You think we're singing
'Bout someone else . . . but you're

Plastic people!
(Woooooooooooooooooooh!)
Oh baby, now . . .
You're such a drag

Ooo-Ooo-Ooo Ooo-Ooo-Ooo Ooo-Ooo-Ooo Ooooooooh!

Me see a neon
Moon above
I searched for years
I found no love
I'm sure that love
Will never be
A product of
Plasticity
A product of
Plasticity
A product of
Plasticity:

FZ:
PLASTIC! PLASTIC PEOPLE!
PLA-HA-HA-HA-HA . . .
PLASTIC . . . PEOPLE
PLASTIC PEOPLE . . . OO-OOOH OO-OOH . . .
PLASTIC . . .

A prune is a vegetable . . . no, a prune is not a vegetable. Cabbage is a vegetable . . . makes it O.K. PLASTIC PEOPLE . . . PLASTIC PEOPLE, PLASTIC PEOPLE!
Ooo-Hoo-Hoo . . . Ooo-ooh-ooh-ooh Hoo-Hoo
Ooh-ooh Ooh-Hoo-Hoo-Hoo

Ray:
You are. Your foot. Your hair. Your nose. Your arms. You eat. You suck. You love. You are. Your being is . . . you're PLASTIC . . . PEOPLE . . . BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH . . . plastic pepples . . . [...]
You drive. You live in. You dream about . . . you think only of . . . you eat . . . you are . . . pepples . . . plastic . . . plastic pepples . . .
Purple prancing. Plastic people. Every pepples . . .

Peep-peep Pee-pee-pee-pee-pee-pee-pee-pee-peep!

3. Mom & Dad 2:17

Mayfair & Apostolic Studios, NYC
July-October, 1967

Engineers: Gary Kellgren, Dick Kunc

FZ—guitar, vocals
Ian Underwood—piano, woodwinds
Don Preston—keyboards
Bunk Gardner—woodwinds

UMRK, LA
c. 1984

Engineers: Mark Pinske and/or Bob Stone

Arthur Barrow—bass
Chad Wackerman—drums

Mama! Mama!
Someone said they made some noise
The cops have shot some girls & boys
You'll sit home & drink all night
They looked too weird . . . it served them right

Mama! Mama!
Someone said they made some noise
The cops have shot some girls & boys
You'll sit home & drink all night
They looked too weird . . . it served them right

Ever take a minute just to show a real emotion
In between the moisture cream & velvet facial lotion?
Ever tell your kids you're glad that they can think?
Ever say you loved 'em? Ever let 'em watch you drink?
Ever wonder why your daughter looked so sad?
It's such a drag to have to love a plastic Mom & Dad

Mama! Mama!
Your child was killed in the park today
Shot by the cops as she quietly lay
By the side of the creeps she knew . . .
They killed her too.

4. It Can't Happen Here 3:07

includes a quotation from Funiculì Funiculà (Denza)

T.T.G. Studios, LA
March 12, 1966

Produced by Tom Wilson
Director of engineering for MGM: Val Valentin
Engineers: Ami Hadani & Tom Hidley

FZ—vocals
Ray Collins—vocals
Roy Estrada—vocals
Jim Black—vocals
+
Jean Vassar as Suzy Creamcheese
And maybe some other freaks

It can't happen here
It can't happen here
I'm telling you, my dear
That it can't happen here
Because I been checkin' it out, baby
I checked it out a couple a times

But I'm telling you
It can't happen here
Oh darling, it's important that you believe me
(Bop bop bop bop)
That it can't happen here

Who could imagine that they would freak out somewhere
in Kansas . . .
(Kansas . . . Kansas . . . Kansas . . . Kansas . . . )
(Kansas, Kansas, do-do-dun to-to
Kansas, Kansas, la la la)
(Kansas, Kansas, do-do-dun to-to
Kansas, Kansas)
Who could imagine that they would freak out in Minnesota . . .
(Mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi
Mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi . . . )
(Mama Minnesota, Mama Minnesota, Mama Minnesota,
Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma Mama Minnesota,
Mama Minnesota, Mama Minnesota,
Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma Mama Minnesota)
Who could imagine
That they would freak out in Washington, D.C.
(AC/DC bop-bop-bop)
(AC/DC do-do-do-dun, AC/DC
Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma, AC/DC)
But it can't happen here
Oh baby, it can't happen here
(AC/DC bop-bop-bop)
Oh baby, it can't happen here
(AC/DC bop-bop-bop)
It can't happen here
Everybody's safe and it can't happen here
(AC/DC bop-bop-bop)
No freaks for us
(AC/DC bop-bop-bop)
It can't happen here
(AC/DC bop-bop-bop)
Everybody's clean and it can't happen here
No, no, it won't happen here
(No, no, it won't happen here)
(AC/DC bop-bop-bop)
I'm telling you it can't
(AC/DC bop-bop-bop)
It won't happen here
Bop-bop-ditty-bop
(I'm not worried at all, I'm not worried at all)
Ditty-bop-bop-bop
Plastic folks, you know
It won't happen here
You're safe, mama
(No no no)
You're safe, baby
(No no no)
You just cook a tv dinner
(No no no)
And you make it
Bop bop bop
(No no no)
Oh, we're gonna get a tv dinner and cook it up
(No no no no no no no!)
Oh, get a tv dinner and cook it up
Cook it up
Oh, and it won't happen here
Who could imagine
That they would freak out in the suburbs!
(No no no no no no no no no no
Man you guys are really safe
Everything's cool)

I remember (tu-tu)
I remember (tu-tu)
I remember (tu-tu)
They had a swimming pool
I remember (tu-tu)
I remember (tu-tu)
They had a swimming pool
I remember (tu-tu)
I remember (tu-tu)
They had a swimming pool

And they thought it couldn't happen here
(duh duh duh)
They knew it couldn't happen here
They were so sure it couldn't happen here
But . . .

Suzy . . .
Yes yes, oh yes—I've always felt that
Yes, I agree man, it really makes it . . . yeah . . .
It's a real THING, man, it really makes it

FZ: Suzy, you just got to town, and we've been . . . we've been very interested in your development
Suzy: Forget it!

Hmmmmmmmmm
(It can't happen here)

5. Who Are The Brain Police? 3:33

T.T.G. Studios, LA
March 9, 1966

Produced by Tom Wilson
Director of engineering for MGM: Val Valentin
Engineers: Ami Hadani & Tom Hidley

FZ—guitar & vocals
Ray Collins—vocals
Jim Black—drums
Roy Estrada—bass
Elliot Ingber—guitar
+
Eugene DiNovi—piano
Gene Estes—percussion
Neil LeVang—guitar

What will you do if we let you go home,
And the plastic's all melted,
And so is the chrome?
WHO ARE THE BRAIN POLICE?

What will you do when the label comes off,
And the plastic's all melted,
And the chrome is too soft?

WAAAAHHHHHH!
I think I'm gonna die . . .
I think I'm gonna die . . .
I think I'm going to die . . .
I think I'm going to die . . .
I think I'm going to die . . .
I think I'm going to die . . .
I'm gonna die . . .
I think I'm going to die . . .
I think I'm gonna die . . .
I'm going to die . . .
I think I'm gonna die . . .
I think I'm gonna die . . .
I think I'm gonna die . . .
Going to die!

WHO ARE THE BRAIN POLICE?

What will you do if the people you knew
Were the plastic that melted,
And the chromium too?
WHO ARE THE BRAIN POLICE?

6. Who Needs The Peace Corps? 2:35

Mayfair & Apostolic Studios, NYC
July-October, 1967

Engineers: Gary Kellgren, Dick Kunc

FZ—guitar, vocals
Ian Underwood—piano, woodwinds
Don Preston—keyboards
Bunk Gardner—woodwinds

UMRK, LA
c. 1984

Engineers: Mark Pinske and/or Bob Stone

Arthur Barrow—bass
Chad Wackerman—drums

What's there to live for?
Who needs the peace corps?
Think I'll just DROP OUT
I'll go to Frisco
Buy a wig & sleep
On Owsley's floor

Walked past the wig store
Danced at the Fillmore
I'm completely stoned
I'm hippy & I'm trippy
I'm a gypsy on my own
I'll stay a week & get the crabs &
Take a bus back home
I'm really just a phony
But forgive me
'Cause I'm stoned

Every town must have a place
Where phony hippies meet
Psychedelic dungeons
Popping up on every street
GO TO SAN FRANCISCO . . .

How I love ya, How I love ya
How I love ya, How I love ya Frisco!
How I love ya, How I love ya
How I love ya, How I love ya
Oh, my hair is getting good in the back!

Every town must have a place
Where phony hippies meet
Psychedelic dungeons
Popping up on every street
GO TO SAN FRANCISCO . . .

Hotcha!

First I'll buy some beads
And then perhaps a leather band
To go around my head
Some feathers and bells
And a book of Indian lore
I will ask the Chamber Of Commerce
How to get to Haight Street
And smoke an awful lot of dope
I will wander around barefoot
I will have a psychedelic gleam in my eye at all times
I will love everyone
I will love the police as they kick the shit out of me on the street
I will sleep . . .
I will, I will go to a house
That's, that's what I will do
I will go to a house
Where there's a rock & roll band
'Cause the groups all live together
And I will join a rock & roll band
I will be their road manager
And I will stay there with them
And I will get the crabs
But I won't care
Because . . .

7. Brown Shoes Don't Make It 7:29

includes a quotation from Little Deuce Coupe (Wilson/Christian)

T.T.G. Studios, LA
November 18, 1966

Produced by Tom Wilson
Director of engineering for MGM: Val Valentin
Engineer: Ami Hadani

FZ—guitar, vocals
Ray Collins—vocals, tambourine
Jim Fielder—guitar, piano
Don Preston—keyboards
Bunk Gardner—woodwinds
Roy Estrada—bass, vocals
Jim Black—drums, vocals
Billy Mundi—drums, percussion
+
Jim Getzoff—violin
Marshall Sosson—violin
Alvin Dinkin—viola
Armand Kaproff—cello
Don Ellis—trumpet
John Rotella—contra-bass clarinet
+
Lisa Cohen—Suzy Creamcheese

Brown shoes
Don't make it
Brown shoes
Don't make it
Quit school
Why fake it?
Brown shoes
Don't make it . . .

TV dinner by the pool
Watch your brother grow a beard
Got another year of school
You're okay—he's too weird
Be a plumber
He's a bummer
He's a bummer
Every summer
Be a loyal plastic robot for a world that doesn't care . . .
Smile at every ugly
Shine on your shoes & cut your hair

Be a joik
And go t' woik
Be a joik
And go t' woik
Be a joik
And go t' woik
Be a joik
And go t' woik
Do your job & do it right
Life's a ball
TV tonight . . .
Do you love it?
Do you hate it?
There it is . . .
The way you made it . . .
YARRRRRRRRRRRGH-H-H!

A world of secret hungers
Perverting the men who make your laws
Every desire is hidden away
In a drawer . . . in a desk
By a naugahyde chair
On a rug where they walk and drool
Past the girls in the office

Hratche-plche
Hratche-plche
Hratche-plche
Hratche-plche

We see in the back of the City Hall mind
The dream of a girl about thirteen
Off with her clothes and into a bed
Where she tickles his fancy all night lonnnnnnnnng

His wife's attending an orchid show
She squealed for a week to get him to go
But back in the bed, his teen-age queen
Is rocking & rolling & acting obscene
Baby baby
Hratche-plche
Hratche-plche
Baby baby
Hratche-plche
Hratche-plche

And he loves it! He loves it! It curls up his toes
She bites his fat neck and it lights up his nose
But he cannot be fooled, old City Hall Fred
She's nasty! She's nasty! She digs it in bed!

Do it again and do it some more
That does it by golly, it's nasty for sure
Nasty nasty nasty, nasty nasty nasty
(Only thirteen and she knows how to nasty . . . )

She's a dirty young mind
Corrupted, corroded
Well she's thirteen today
And I hear she gets loaded
P-pum-m-mum-m-mum-m-mum
P-pum-m-mum-m-mum-m-mum
P-bum

If she were my daughter, I'd . . .
What would you do daddy?
If she were my daughter, I'd . . .
What would you do daddy?
If she were my daughter, I'd . . .
What would you do daddy?
Smother my daughter in chocolate syrup
And strap her on again, oh baby!
Smother that girl in chocolate syrup
And strap her on again
She's a teen-age baby and she turns me on
I'd like to make her do a nasty on the White House lawn
Gonna smother that girl in chocolate syrup—
And boogie till the cows come home

Time to go home—Madge is on the phone
Gotta meet the Gurney's
And a dozen grey attorneys
TV dinner by the pool
I'm so glad I finished school
Life is such a ball
I run the world from City Hall!

8. Concentration Moon 2:17

Mayfair & Apostolic Studios, NYC
July-October, 1967

Engineers: Gary Kellgren, Dick Kunc

FZ—guitar, vocals
Ian Underwood—piano
Don Preston—keyboards
Gary Kellgren—voice
Jimmy Carl Black—voice

UMRK, LA
c. 1984

Engineers: Mark Pinske and/or Bob Stone

Arthur Barrow—bass
Chad Wackerman—drums

Concentration Moon
Over the camp in the valley
Concentration Moon
Wish I was back in the alley
With all of my friends,
Still running free:
Hair growing out
Every hole in me
AMERICAN WAY
How did it start?
Thousands of creeps
Killed in the park
AMERICAN WAY
Try and explain
Scab of a nation
Driven insane
Don't cry
Gotta go bye bye
SUDDENLY: DIE DIE
COP KILL A CREEP! pow pow pow

Gary Kellgren: Tomorrow I get to do another Frank Zappa creation . . . and the day after that . . . and the day after that . . . also at the same time I get to work with The Velvet Underground which is as shitty a group as Frank Zappa's group

JCB: Hi, boys & girls, I'm Jimmy Carl Black, and I'm the Indian of the group

Concentration Moon
Over the camp in the valley
Concentration Moon
Wish I was back in the alley
With all of my friends,
Still running free:
Hair growing out
Every hole in me
AMERICAN WAY
Threatened by US
Drag a few creeps
Away in a bus
AMERICAN WAY
Prisoner: lock
SMASH EVERY CREEP
IN THE FACE WITH A ROCK

Don't cry
Gotta go bye bye
SUDDENLY: DIE DIE
COP KILL A CREEP! pow pow pow

9. Trouble Every Day 5:08

T.T.G. Studios, LA
March 9, 1966

Produced by Tom Wilson
Director of engineering for MGM: Val Valentin
Engineers: Ami Hadani & Tom Hidley

FZ—lead guitar, vocals
Ray Collins—tambourine, harmonica
Jim Black—drums
Roy Estrada—bass
Elliot Ingber—guitar
+
Neil LeVang—guitar?

Well I'm about to get sick
From watchin' my TV
Been checkin' out the news
Until my eyeballs fail to see
I mean to say that every day
Is just another rotten mess
And when it's gonna change, my friend
Is anybody's guess

So I'm watchin' and I'm waitin'
Hopin' for the best
Even think I'll go to prayin'
Every time I hear 'em sayin'
That there's no way to delay
That trouble comin' every day
No way to delay
That trouble comin' every day

Wednesday I watched the riot . . .
I seen the cops out on the street
Watched 'em throwin' rocks and stuff
And chokin' in the heat
Listened to reports
About the whisky passin' 'round
Seen the smoke and fire
And the market burnin' down
Watched while everybody
On his street would take a turn
To stomp and smash and bash and crash
And slash and bust and burn

And I'm watchin' and I'm waitin'
Hopin' for the best
Even think I'll go to prayin'
Every time I hear 'em sayin'
That there's no way to delay
That trouble comin' every day
No way to delay
That trouble comin' every day

Well, you can cool it,
You can heat it . . .
'Cause, baby, I don't need it . . .
Take your TV tube and eat it
'N all that phony stuff on sports
'N all the unconfirmed reports
You know I watched that rotten box
Until my head begin to hurt
From checkin' out the way
The newsman say they get the dirt
Before the guys on channel so-and-so

And further they assert
That any show they'll interrupt
To bring you news if it comes up
They say that if the place blows up
They will be the first to tell,
Because the boys they got downtown
Are workin' hard and doin' swell,
And if anybody gets the news
Before it hits the street,
They say that no one blabs it faster
Their coverage can't be beat

And if another woman driver
Gets machine-gunned from her seat
They'll send some joker with a brownie
And you'll see it all complete

So I'm watchin' and I'm waitin'
Hopin' for the best
Even think I'll go to prayin'
Every time I hear 'em sayin'
That there's no way to delay
That trouble comin' every day
No way to delay
That trouble comin' every day

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

Well, I seen the fires burnin'
And the local people turnin'
On the merchants and the shops
Who used to sell their brooms and mops
And every other household item
Watched a mob just turn and bite 'em
And they say it served 'em right
Because a few of them are white,
And it's the same across the nation
Black and white discrimination
Yellin' "You can't understand me!"
'N all that other jazz they hand me
In the papers and TV and
All that mass stupidity
That seems to grow more every day
Each time you hear some nitwit say
He wants to go and do you in
Because the color of your skin
Just don't appeal to him
(No matter if it's black or white)
Because he's out for blood tonight

You know we got to sit around at home
And watch this thing begin
But I bet there won't be many live
To see it really end
'Cause the fire in the street
Ain't like the fire in the heart
And in the eyes of all these people
Don't you know that this could start
On any street in any town
In any state if any clown
Decides that now's the time to fight
For some ideal he thinks is right
And if a million more agree
There ain't no Great Society
As it applies to you and me
Our country isn't free
And the law refuses to see
If all that you can ever be
Is just a lousy janitor
Unless your uncle owns a store
You know that five in every four
Just won't amount to nothin' more
Gonna watch the rats go across the floor
And make up songs about being poor

10. You're Probably Wondering Why I'm Here 3:36

T.T.G. Studios, LA
March 9, 1966

Produced by Tom Wilson
Director of engineering for MGM: Val Valentin
Engineers: Ami Hadani & Tom Hidley

FZ—guitar, vocals, kazoo
Ray Collins—vocals, tambourine, kazoo
Jim Black—drums
Roy Estrada—bass
Elliot Ingber—guitar
+
Eugene DiNovi—piano
Gene Estes—percussion
Neil LeVang—guitar

Bop bop-bop bop-bop bop-BOW
Bop bop-bop bop-bop bop-BOW

You're probably wondering
Why I'm here
And so am I
So am I

Just as much as you wonder
'Bout me bein' in this place
(Yeah!)
That's just how much I marvel
At the lameness on your face
You rise each day the same old way
And join your friends out on the street
Spray your hair
And think you're neat
I think your life is incomplete
But maybe that's not for me to say
They only pay me here to play

(I wanna hear Caravan with a drum sola!)

You're probably wondering
Why I'm here
And so am I
So am I

Just as much as you wonder
'Bout me starin' back at you
(Yeah!)
That's just how much I question
The corny things you do

You paint your face and then you chase
To meet the gang where the action is
Stomp all night
And drink your fizz
Roll your car and say "Gee whiz!"
You tore a big hole in your convertible top
What will you tell your Mom and Pop?

(Mom, I tore a big hole in the convertible)

You're probably wondering
Why I'm here
And so am I
So am I

Just as much as you wonder
If I mean just what I say
(Yeah!)
That's just how much I question
The social games you play

You told your Mom you're stoked on Tom
And went for a cruise in Freddie's car
Tommy's asking
Where you are
You boogied all night in a cheesy bar
Plastic boots and plastic hat
And you think you know where it's at?

You're probably wondering
Why I'm here
(Not that it makes a heck of a lot of a difference to ya)

11. We're Turning Again 4:55

includes little quotations from Honey Love (McPhatter/Gerald), The Hurdy Gurdy Man (Leitch), Sunshine Of Your Love (Brown/Bruce/Clapton), Purple Haze (Hendrix), Light My Fire (The Doors) and Monday, Monday (Phillips)

Basic track:
Santa Monica Civic Auditorium
December 11, 1981

Engineers: Mark Pinske and Bob Stone

FZ—guitar, vocals
Ike Willis—vocals
Steve Vai—guitar
Ray White—guitar, vocals
Tommy Mars—keyboards
Bobby Martin—keyboards, vocals
Ed Mann—percussion
Scott Thunes—bass
Chad Wackerman—drums

Turn turn
Turn turn
We're turning again
Turn turn
Turn turn
We're turning again

They took a whole bunch of acid
So they could see where it's at
(It's over there, over there,
Over there, over there
And under here also)
Doont, da-doodem doodem!
They lived on a whole bunch of nothing
They thought they looked very good
They'd never ever worry
They were always in a hurry
To convince themselves that what they were
Was really very groovy
Yes, they believed in all the papers
And the magazines that defined their folklore
They could never laugh
At who or what they thought they were
Or even what they thought
They sorta oughta be
They were totally empty
(Totally empty)
And their lives were really useless
So what the fuck?
They didn't have no sense of humor
(Oodly-oodly-yeah!)
Now they got nothing left
To laugh about
Including themselves

Turn turn
Turn turn
We're turning again
Turn turn
Turn turn
We're turning again

Bprr . . . bprr . . . the year 1967
Drug-crazed youth discovered vagrancy as a way of life
EWW-WW!
Dey were mellow
Dey were yellow
Dey were wearing smelly blankets
Dey looked like DONOVAN fans
(HU-UR-DE-EE
GU-UR-DE-EE)

Dey walkin' 'round
With stupid flowers
In dey hair an' evvywhere
Dey tried to stuff 'em up de guns
Of all the cops and other servants of the law
(LA LA-LA-LA LA-LA)
Who tried to push 'em around
And later mowed 'em down
But they were full of all that shit
That they believed in
(PHEW!)
So what the fuck?
(WHAT THE FUCK?)
Now I seen 'em tightenin' up dey headbands
On the weekend and dey get loaded
When dey came to town
Dey walk around in GREEMICH VILLAGE
To buy posters dey could hang up
In dem smelly little secret
Black light bedrooms
On LONN-ISLAND
Singin': "JIMI COME BACK!"
Now come back and regulate de boy's FURZ-tone
Yo' HAZE was so PURPLE
It caused your AXIS to be BOLD AS LOVE
(JIMI-JIMI-JIMI-JIMI-JIMI FEED BACK)
Now Jimi gimme some feedback
Come back and feed back on my knapsack
You can feed back the fuzz tone from your WAH-WAH
While you bend down
And set your stuff on FIRE

Turn turn
Turn turn
We're turning again
Turn turn
Turn turn
We're turning again

We can turn it around
We can do it again
We can go back in time
Through the canyons of your mind
On the EVE O' DESTRUCTION
We can act like we are something really special
WOOOH, we'll just jump in the bath-tub
With that other guy JIM
And make him be more careful
We can visit Big Mama
And whap her on the back
When she eats her sandwich
(LA LA LA LA)
We can take care of Janis
When she gets so depressed
She can't take it no more
We can laugh at Keith Moon's jokes
(HA HA HA HA HA)
And the colour TV
(HA HA)
He threw out de windum
Fum de second flew-ah!
(YEAAHHHHHH!)
Everybody come back
No one can do it like you used to
If you listen to the radio
And what they play today
You can tell right away:
All those assholes really need you!

Turn turn
Turn turn
We're turning again
Turn turn
Turn turn
We're turning again

Turn turn
Turn turn
We're turning again
Turn turn
Turn turn
We're turning again

12. Road Ladies 4:08

Whitney Studios, Glendale
The Record Plant, LA
August 28-29, 1970

Engineers: Dick Kunc and/or Stan Agol

Frank Zappa—guitar & vocal
Ian Underwood—rhythm guitar
Jeff Simmons—bass & vocal
George Duke—organ
Aynsley Dunbar—drums
with The Phlorescent Leech & Eddie—vocals

Don't it ever get lonesome?
(Yeah! Sure gets lonesome . . .)
Don't it ever get sad when you go out on the road?
(Oh, there was one time in Minneapolis . . . when I thought I had the clap for sure)
Don't it ever get lonesome?
(Lonesome ain't the word)
Don't it ever get sad when you go out on a thirty day tour?
(Oh, I'll take away . . .)
You got nothing but groupies and promoters to love you
And a pile of laundry by the hotel door

Don't it ever get lonesome?
Don't it ever give a young man the blues?
Don't it ever get lonesome?
Don't it ever make a young man wanna go back home?
When the P.A. system eats it
And the band plays some of the most terriblest shit you've ever known

Don't you ever miss your
House in the country and your
Hot little mama too?
Don't you ever miss your
House in the country and your
Hot little mama too?
Don't you better get a
Shot from the doctor
What the Road Ladies do to you?

I know someday I will never
I'll never go out on the road again, oh, yeah . . .
I know someday I will never
I ain't gonna roam the countryside
No more
I'm gonna hang up them ol' Holiday Inns, yeah
And heal my knees up
From when I was doin' it on the floor
See me doing it
See me do it on the floor

Don't you ever miss your
House in the country and your
Hot little mama too?
Don't you ever miss your
House in the country and your
Hot little mama too?
Don't you better get a
Shot from the doctor
What the Road Ladies do to you?

13. What Kind Of Girl Do You Think We Are? 4:33

includes a quotation from Daddy, Daddy, Daddy which includes a quotation from Tell Me You Love Me

Fillmore East, NYC
June 5-6, 1971

Engineers: Barry Keene & Toby Foster

FZ—guitar & dialog
Mark Volman—lead vocals & dialog
Howard Kaylan—lead vocals & dialog
Ian Underwood—woodwinds, keyboard & vocals
Aynsley Dunbar—drums
Jim Pons—bass, vocals & dialog
Bob Harris—2nd keyboard & vocals
Don Preston—Minimoog

Howard:
What's a girl like you
Doin' in a place like this?

Mark:
I left my place after midnight
And I came to this hall
Me and my girlfriend, we came here
Lookin' to ball

Howard:
You came to the right place
This is it
This is the swingin'-est place
In New York City

Chorus:
NO SHIT!

Mark:
How true that is!

Howard:
Oh, how true indeed

Mark:
Yeah, me and my,
Me and my girlfriend, we come here
Every Friday 'n Saturday night looking for that
Hot romance we need
We like to get it on—
Do you like to get it on, too?

Howard:
Well now, what did you have in mind?

Mark:
Well, I'll tell ya
Well I get off bein' juked
With a baby octopus
And spewed upon with creamed corn . . .
An' my girlfriend, she digs it
With a hot Yoo-hoo bottle
While somebody's screamin':
CORKS 'N SAFETIES
PIGS 'N DONKEYS
ALICE COOPER, baby . . .
WAAAAH!

Bob:
Well, it gets me so hot
I could scream

Chorus:
ALICE COOPER, ALICE COOPER! WAAAAH!
ALICE COOPER, ALICE COOPER! WAAAAH!

Howard:
You two chicks sound real far out and groovy
Ever been to a Holiday Inn?
Mna-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-haaa . . .
Magic Fingers in the bed (Picture it!)
Wall-mounted TV screens
Coffee-Host plugged into the bathroom wall
Formica's really keen!

Chorus:
(What kind of girl?)
What kind of girl do you think we are?
(What kind of girl?)
What kind of girl do you think we are?
(I ain't no groupie)
Don't call us groupies
That is going too far
(What kind of girl?)
We wouldn't ball you
Just because you're a star

FZ:
These girls wouldn't let just anybody
Spew on their vital parts
They want a guy from a group
With a big hit single in the charts!

Howard:
Funny you should mention it
Our new single made the charts this week
With a bullet!
With a bullet!
Just let me put a little more
Rancid Budweiser on my beard right now, baby
And you can show me how
A young girl such as you
Might be thrilled and
Overwhelmed by me, ho-ho . . .

Mark:
What hotel did you say you were staying at?

Howard:
Wanna split right away?

Mark:
Not so fast, you silly boy . . .
There's one thing I gotta say

Chorus:
We want a guy from a group who's got a thing in the charts
We want a guy from a group who's got a thing in the charts
We want a guy from a group who's got a thing in the charts
We want a guy from a group who's got a thing in the charts
And if his dick is a monster
If his dick is a monster
If his dick is a monster
They will give him their hearts

Howard:
Hold it! Please hold it!

14. Camarillo Brillo 3:53

Whitney Studios, Glendale, CA
April 4, 1973

Engineers: Barry Keene, Terry Dunavan, Fred Borkgren, Steve Desper and/or Kerry McNabb

FZ—guitar & lead vocals
Ralph Humphrey—drums
Sal Marquez—trumpet & vocals
George Duke—keyboards & synthesizer
Tom Fowler—bass
Bruce Fowler—trombone
Ruth Underwood—marimba, vibes & percussion
Ian Underwood—flute, clarinet, alto & tenor sax
Jean-Luc Ponty—violin & baritone violin

She had that
Camarillo brillo
Flamin' out along her head,
I mean her Mendocino bean-o
By where some bugs had made it red

She ruled the Toads of the Short Forest
And every newt in Idaho
And every cricket who had chorused
By the bush in Buffalo

She said she was
A Magic Mama
And she could throw a mean Tarot
And carried on without a comma
That she was someone I should know

She had a snake for a pet
And an amulet
And she was breeding a dwarf
But she wasn't done yet
She had gray-green skin
A doll with a pin
I told her she was awright
But I couldn't come in
(I couldn't come in right then . . . )

And so she wandered
Through the door-way
Just like a shadow from the tomb
She said her stereo was four-way
An' I'd just love it in her room

Well, I was born
To have adventure
So I just followed up the steps
Right past her fuming incense stencher
To where she hung her castanets

She stripped away
Her rancid poncho
An' laid out naked by the door
We did it till we were un-concho
An' it was useless any more

She had a snake for a pet
And an amulet
And she was breeding a dwarf
But she wasn't done yet
She had gray-green skin
A doll with a pin
I told her she was awright
But I couldn't come in
(actually, I was very busy then)

And so she wandered
Through the door-way
Just like a shadow from the tomb
She said her stereo was four-way
An' I'd just love it in her room

Well, I was born
To have adventure
So I just followed up the steps
Right past her fuming incense stencher
To where she hung her castanets

She said she was
A Magic Mama
And she could throw a mean Tarot
And carried on without a comma
That she was someone I should know

(Is that a real poncho . . . I mean
Is that a Mexican poncho or is that a Sears poncho?
Hmmm . . . no foolin' . . . )

15. Find Her Finer 3:34

Record Plant, LA
c. May-June, 1976

Engineers: Michael Braunstein, Davey Moire, FZ

FZ—guitar, bass, keyboards, synth, vocal
Terry Bozzio—drums, bg. vocal
Donnie Vliet—harmonica
Roy Estrada—bg. vocal
Ruben Ladron de Guevara—bg. vocal

Find her finer, sneak up behind her
Wrapped like a mummy till you finally unwind her
Find her blinder, see who designed her
Act like a dummy till you finally grind her

If you should see a girl on the street
Now maybe you might think she is sweet
But if you wanna tickle her treat
Now really, what should you do?
(Rat-tat-tat-tat ta-da!)

Don't never let her know you are smart
The universe is no way to start
You gotta play it straight from the heart
She gwine renunciate you
(That's why you gotta . . . )

Find her finer, sneak up behind her
Wrapped like a mummy till you finally unwind her
Find her blinder, see who designed her
Act like a dummy till you finally grind her

Now maybe you might think this is crude
And maybe you might think I am rude
And maybe this approach I have spewed
Is not the one for you
(Rat-tat-tat-tat ta-da!)

But believe me later on you'll find
As you impress her with your mind
That you would just be left behind
For a wiser fool
(So you might as well)

Find her finer, sneak up behind her
Wrapped like a mummy till you finally unwind her
Find her blinder, see who designed her
Act like a dummy till you finally grind her

Find her finer, sneak up behind her
Wrapped like a mummy till you finally unwind her
Find her blinder, see who designed her
Act like a dummy till you finally grind her

Find her finer, sneak up behind her
Wrapped like a mummy till you finally unwind her
Find her blinder, see who designed her
Act like a dummy till you finally . . .

16. Dinah-Moe Humm 6:02

Bolic Sound, Inglewood
March 19, 1973

Engineers: Barry Keene, Terry Dunavan, Fred Borkgren, Steve Desper and/or Kerry McNabb

FZ—guitar & vocals
Kin Vassy—vocals
Sal Marquez—vocals
George Duke—keyboards & synthesizer
Tom Fowler—bass
Ralph Humphrey—drums
Ruth Underwood—percussion
Tina Turner, Debbie & Lynn (The Ikettes)—backing vocals

I couldn't say where she's coming' from,
But I just met a lady named Dinah-Moe Humm

She stroll on over, say look here, bum,
I got a forty-dollar bill say you can't make me cum
(Y'jes can't do it)

She made a bet with her sister who's a little bit dumb
She could prove it any time all men was scum

I don't mind that she called me a bum,
But I knew right away she was really gonna cum
(So I got down to it)

I whipped off her bloomers 'n stiffened my thumb
An' applied rotation on her sugar plum

I poked 'n stroked till my wrist got numb
But I still didn't hear no Dinah-Moe Humm,
Dinah-Moe Humm

Dinah-Moe Humm
Dinah-Moe Humm
Where's this Dinah-Moe
Comin' from
I done spent three hours
An' I ain't got a crumb
From the Dinah-Moe, Dinah-Moe, Dinah-Moe
From the Dinah-Moe Humm

Got a spot that gets me hot, ow!
An' you ain't been to it
(No no no no!)
Got a spot that gets me hot, ow!
An' you ain't been to it
(No no no!)
Got a spot that gets me hot
But you ain't been to it
(No no no no no!)
Got a spot that gets me hot
But you ain't been to it
'Cause I can't get into it
Unless I get out of it
An' I gotta get out of it
Before I get into it
'Cause I never get into it
Unless I get out of it
An' I gotta be out of it
To get myself into it

(She looked over at me with a glazed eye
And some bovine perspiration on her upper lip area
And she said . . . )

Just get me wasted
An' you're half-way there
'Cause if my mind's tore up,
Then my body don't care

I rubbed my chinny-chin-chin
An' said my-my-my
What sort of thing
Might this lady get high upon?

I checked out her sister
Who was holdin' the bet
An' wondered what kind of trip
The young lady was on

The forty-dollar bill didn't matter no more
When her sister got nekkid an' laid on the floor
She said Dinah-Moe might win the bet
But she could use a little ______ if I wasn't done yet

I told her . . .
Just because the sun
Want a place in the sky
No reason to assume
I wouldn't give her a try

So I pulled on her hair
Got her legs in the air
An' asked if she had any cooties in there

(Whaddya mean cooties! No cooties on me!)

She was buns-up kneelin'
BUNS UP!
I was wheelin' an dealin'
WHEELIN' AN' DEALIN' AN' OOOOH!
She surrender to the feelin'
SHE SWEETLY SURRENDERED
An' she started in to squealin'

Dinah-Moe watched from the edge of the bed
With her lips just a-twitchin' an' her face gone red
Some drool rollin' down
From the edge of her chin
While she spied the condition
Her sister was in
She quivered 'n quaked
An' clutched at herself
While her sister made a joke
About her mental health
Till Dinah-Moe finally
Did give in
But I told her
All she really needed
Was some discipline . . .

Kiss my aura . . . Dora . . .
M-M-M . . . it's real angora
Would y'all like some more-a?
Right here on the flora?
An' how 'bout you, Fauna?
Y'wanna?

MMM . . . sound like you're chokin' on somethin'

Did you say you want some more?
Well, here's some more . . .

(Oh, baby . . . )

Oh, sure . . . look,
D'you think I could interest you
In a pair of zircon-encrusted tweezers?

MMM . . . tweezers!
Wait a minute, lemme sterilize 'em . . .
Gimme your lighter . . .

I couldn't say where she's coming' from
But I just met a lady named Dinah-Moe Humm

She stroll on over, say look here, bum,
I got a forty-dollar bill say you can't make me cum
(Y'jes can't do it)

I whipped off her bloomers 'n stiffened my thumb
An' applied rotation on her sugar plum

I poked 'n stroked till my wrist got numb
An' you know I heard some Dinah-Moe Humm
Some Dinah-Moe Humm
Dinah-Moe Humm
Dinah-Moe Humm
Dinah-Moe
Dinah-Moe
Some Dinah-Moe
An' a little Dinah-Moe
An' some Dinah-Moe
An' some Dinah-Moe
An' some Dinah-Moe
An' a little Dinah-Moe
An' some Dinah-Moe
An' some Dinah-Moe
An' some Dinah-Moe
An' a Dinah-Moe again
An' Dinah-Moe
An' Dora too, lil' Dinah 'n Dora
An' Dinah-Moe
Kiss my . . .

17. Disco Boy 4:19

Record Plant, LA
c. May-June, 1976

Engineers: Michael Braunstein, Davey Moire, FZ

FZ—guitar, bass, keyboards, synth, vocal
Terry Bozzio—drums, bg. vocal
Davey Moire—bg. vocal
André Lewis—bg. vocal
Roy Estrada—bg. vocal
Sparkie Parker—bg. vocal

Disco Boy
Run to the toilet, honey,
Comb your hair

Disco Boy
Pucker yer lip,
'N check yer shoulder,
'Cause some dandruff might be
Hidin' there!

Disco Boy,
You're the DISCO KING!
Aw, the Disco-Thing
Made you think
Someday,
That you
Just might GO SOMEWHERE!

Disco Girl!
You're 'out-a-site'!
You need a Disco Boy
To treat you right
He'll do a little dance;
Take you home tonight
(Leave his hair alone,
But you can kiss his comb)

Disco Boy!
Run to the toilet boy,
'N comb your hair

Disco Boy!
Shake it more than three times 'n yer playin' with it
(WOW!)
While yer standin' there!
(Well . . . )

Disco Boy!
Do the Bump every night, 'til the Disco Girl
Who's REALLY RIGHT
Gonna fall for yer line,
'N feed you a box fulla
Chicken Delight!

Disco chit-chat; so demure!
Pump that booty all across the floor!
A disco drink
A disco wink
"You never go doody!"
(That's what you think)
"You never go doody!"
(That's what you think)
"You never go doody!"
(That's what you think)

Doody
Ah, go doody
Doody
You never go doody
Doody
You never go doody
Doody
You never go doody
Doody
You never go doody
Ah, baby, doody
Ah, baby, doody

Disco Boy!
You got one more chance
To comb your hair again

Disco Boy!
They're closin' the bar,
And she's leavin' with your friend!

Disco Boy,
That's the way it goes,
So wipe your nose,
'N try it again,
To get a little laid tomorrow!

Disco Boy,
No one understands,
But thank THE LORD
That you still got hands
To help you do that jerkin' that'll
Blot out yer Disco Sorrow!

It's Disco Love tonight
Make sure you look all right
It's Disco Love tonight
Make sure you look all right

18. 200 Years Old 4:30

Record Plant, LA
January-February, 1975

Engineers: Kerry McNabb, Mike Braunstein

FZ—guitar, vocals
Captain Beefheart—harp, vocals
George Duke—keyboards
Tom Fowler—bass
Chester Thompson—drums

I was sitting in a breakfast room in Allentown, Pennsylvania . . .
Six o'clock in the morning . . .
Got up too early . . .
It was a terrible mistake . . .
Sittin' there face-to-face with a
75¢ glass of orange juice
About as big as my finger
And a bowl of horribly fore-shortened corn flakes
And I said to myself
"This is the life . . . "

She's 200 years old
So mean she couldn't grow no lips
She's 200 years old
So mean she couldn't grow no lips
(Boy, she'd be in trouble if she tried to grow a mustache . . . )

She's 200 years old
Squatting down
And poppin' up
In front of the juke box
Like she had true religion
Boy
She's 200 years old
Squattin' down
Poppin' up
Front o' the juke box
Just like she'd had true religion
Boy
Hoy! Hoy! It's 200 years
Half of this, none of that
Was 50 . . .
Oh squat, yeah, oh, now
She got religion now, boy
Oh, she's 200 years old
Oh, she told me
She just, she just can't grow no lips
Squat
Down
So mean she
Can't grow no lips
200 years old
Whaddya mean she can't grow no lips . . .
Squattin' down
Poppin' up 'n down at the juke box
OWW!
She got the true religion, boy
Boy

disc 2

1. I'm The Slime 2:35

Recorded at Bolic Sound, Inglewood, CA
March 19 or 20, 1973

Engineers: Barry Keene, Terry Dunavan, Fred Borkgren, Steve Desper and/or Kerry McNabb

FZ—guitar & lead vocals
Ralph Humphrey—drums
Sal Marquez—trumpet & vocals
George Duke—keyboards & synthesizer
Tom Fowler—bass
Bruce Fowler—trombone
Ruth Underwood—marimba, vibes & percussion
Ian Underwood—flute, clarinet, alto & tenor sax
Jean-Luc Ponty—violin & baritone violin
Kin Vassy—announcer
Tina Turner, Debbie & Lynn (The Ikettes)—backing vocals

I am gross and perverted
I'm obsessed 'n deranged
I have existed for years
But very little has changed
I'm the tool of the Government
And industry too
For I am destined to rule
And regulate you

I may be vile and pernicious
But you can't look away
I make you think I'm delicious
With the stuff that I say
I'm the best you can get
Have you guessed me yet?
I'm the slime oozin' out
From your TV set

You will obey me while I lead you
And eat the garbage that I feed you
Until the day that we don't need you
Don't go for help . . . no one will heed you
Your mind is totally controlled
It has been stuffed into my mold
And you will do as you are told
Until the rights to you are sold

That's right, folks . . .
Don't touch that dial

Well, I am the slime from your video
Oozin' along on your livin' room floor

I am the slime from your video
Can't stop the slime, people, lookit me go

I am the slime from your video
Oozin' along on your livin' room floor

I am the slime from your video
Can't stop the slime, people, lookit me go

2. Be In My Video 3:37

UMRK
c. 1982-84

Engineers: Mark Pinske and/or Bob Stone

FZ insinuations
harmony: Ike Willis, Ray White, Napoleon Murphy Brock
Bobby Martin—saxophone & falsetto
Brad Cole—piano
Scott Thunes—bass
Chad Wackerman—drums

Be in my video,
Darling, every night
I will rent a cage for you
And mi j-i-nits dressed in white
(teeny-little-tiny-little . . . )

Twirl around in a lap dissolve
Pretend to sing the words
I'll rent a gleaming limousine;
Release a flock of
Ber-herna-herna-herna
Herna-her-nerds

Wear a leather collar
(Wear a leather collar)
And a dagger in your ear
(A dagger in your ear)
(Stabbinitin-stabbinitin-stabbinitin-stabbinitin-YOU!)
I will make your nose smell the glove
And try to look sincere, then we'll

Dance the blues
(Oh yes)
Let's dance the blues
(We'll dance the blues)
Let's dance the blues
(We'll dance them very much)
Under the megawatt moonlight

Pretend to be Chinese,
(One-hung-low)
I'll make you wear red shoes
There's a cheesy atom bomb explosion
All the big groups use

Atomic light will shine
(Will shine)
Through an old venetian blind
(Venetian blind)
Making patterns on your face,
(On your face)
Then it cuts to outer space

With its billions & billions &
Billions & billions

Be in my video
(In my video)
Darling, every night
(Darling, every night)
Everyone in cable-land
(Everyone in cable-gable-land)
Will say you're 'outa-site'
(I say they'll say you're 'outa-site')

You can show your legs
(You can show the pretty legs)
While you're getting in the car, then
(In my red hot-rod car, then I . . . )
I will look repulsive
(With my big ears and all)
While I mangle my guitar

Reen-toon-teen-toon-teen-toon
Tee-nu-nee-nu-nee,
Moo-ahhhh

Reen-toon-teen-toon-teen-toon
Tee-nu-nee-nu-nee,
Moo-ahhhh

Reen-toon-teen-toon-teen-toon
Tee-nu-nee-nu-nee,
Moo-ahhhh

Tee-nu-nee—moo-ahhhh
Tee-nu-nee—moo-wah-wah-wah-ooo

After all the close-up shots
Of you in bondage leather
They'll spray an alley with a hose
And we'll escape together, while we

Dance de blude agin
(I'm dancing the blues)
(Oh yes, we'll dance the blues)
Led dance de blude agin
(I'm dancing the blues)
(Sure we will)
Led dance de blude agin
(I'm dancing . . . )
(We'll dance them blues)
In de middle o' de alley

Let's dance your face
(Let's dance your face)
Let's dance your lips
(And dance your lips)
Let's dance your nose
(We can dance your nose)
And then we'll dance your sinus
MOO-AHHHH!

3. I Don't Even Care 3:48

(Zappa/Watson)

Basic track:
soundcheck
c. 1981-82
Overdubs:
UMRK
c. 1982-84

Engineers: Mark Pinske and Bob Stone

Johnny "Guitar" Watson—lead guitar & lead vocals
FZ—guitar, vocals
Ike Willis—guitar?, vocals?
Steve Vai—guitar?
Ray White—guitar?, vocals
Bobby Martin—vocals
Arthur Barrow—bass
Chad Wackerman—drums

Would ya b'lieve it
Uh-huh, don't even care
Uh-huh, listen!
I said
(I-I-I-I)
Talkin' 'bout this evenin'
(DON'T EVEN CARE)
So let me tell you why this evenin'
Listen! Not enough have been said
(I-I-I-I)
About the white, the blue and the red
(DON'T EVEN CARE)
So everybody just a-runnin' off scared
And I, OW!
I tell you that
(I-I-I-I)
Talkin' 'bout ME, y'all
(DON'T EVEN CARE)
I don't even care
No I don't, no I don't
Listen! Standin' in the bread line
(I-I-I-I)
Everybody lyin' an' lyin'
(DON'T EVEN CARE)
Ain't nobody doin' fine
O-OW! Let me tell you why
I said, OW!
(I-I-I-I)
I'm talkin' 'bout I
Don't even . . .
(DON'T EVEN CARE)
Don't give me no incentive
Don't give me no incentive
I know you know what I'm talkin' 'bout
(I-I-I-I)
Uh-huh, yeah!
(DON'T EVEN CARE)
Oh no, I don't
Now listen . . .
Everybody's sayin' be big hearted
(I-I-I-I)
Everybody's sayin' be big hearted
(DON'T EVEN CARE)
How in the world has this mess got started
I never know, never know got started
OW!
(I-I-I-I)
Yes sir! I don't even care
(DON'T EVEN CARE)
Uh-huh, yes sir!
(I-I-I-I)
(DON'T EVEN CARE)
(I-I-I-I)
Help me! Uh-huh
(DON'T EVEN CARE)
Don't care no more
Don't you . . . don't you know!
(I-I-I-I)
Everybody's doin' line in tellin' them lies 'n
They want me to b'lieve it!
(DON'T EVEN CARE)
Everybody's tryin' to offer me somethin'
Ain't nothin' I need to leave it
I said
(I-I-I-I)
Yeah! Don't even . . .
(DON'T EVEN CARE)
Lemme tell you why
What was whole
Now what was whole
(I-I-I-I)
What was whole is . . . is just less than half
(DON'T EVEN CARE)
What was whole is less than half
Lemme tell you
OW!
(I-I-I-I)
Hey, you can't hold on to it 'cause it ain't gonna last!
(DON'T EVEN CARE)
So listen, lemme tell ya
The cow used to jump over the moon!
An' now he's jumpin' over the fence!
(I-I-I-I)
Is that cold?
It don't make no sense, do it?
OW!
(DON'T EVEN CARE)
Say, look, they thought it was a man in the moon,
I wonder was it a woman
(Just don't care! Yeah yeah hey!)
I said
(I-I-I-I)
YEAH!
(Well well hey)
(DON'T EVEN CARE)
Somethin' in the mornin'
I don't care in the evenin'
I don't care at night
(No no, I just don't care, I said that . . . )
(I-I-I-I)
Say would you b'lieve they tried to send me up to fix the satellite?
(Oh no . . . )
(DON'T EVEN CARE)
OW! No good!
(AAAAAAAH!)
Listen, talkin' 'bout
(I-I-I-I)
(Said I don't care)
(DON'T EVEN CARE)
Woh! No, I don't this evenin'
(No I don't! I don't care! Yeah! Sayin' that)
(I-I-I-I)
(You know I said, I . . . )
(DON'T EVEN CARE)
Oh no . . . ha ha . . . Oh lordy
(Oh no, tell you, I don't really . . . )
(I-I-I-I)
Somebody better hold me this evenin'
(Say it again)
'Cause I don't even care
(DON'T EVEN CARE)
(Want you to know, want you . . . know that I said . . . )
Hold me tight, hold me tight, hold me tight this evenin' 'cause
(I-I-I-I)
B'lieve it!
(Tell ya what, tell ya what, I don't)
(DON'T EVEN CARE)
Lord have mercy! Pull them guitar strings!
OW!

4. Can't Afford No Shoes 2:38

Caribou Ranch, Nederland, Colorado
December, 1974
The Record Plant, LA
January 9, 1975

Engineers: Kerry McNabb, Gary O, Michael Braunstein

Frank Zappa—guitar, vocals
George Duke—keyboards, vocals
Napoleon Murphy Brock—vocals
Chester Thompson—drums
Ruth Underwood—percussion
James "Birdlegs" Youmans—bass

Heh-heh-heh . . .
Have you heard the news?
(News? What news?)
Can't afford no shoes
(Ow! Get a deal on tape)
Have you heard the news?
(News? Can't afford a paper)
Can't afford no shoes
(Hi-yo-hi)

Went to buy some cheap detergent
Some emergent nation got my load
Got my load
Got my toad
That I stowed

Well, well,
Hey lawdy mama,
Can't afford no shoes
Maybe there's a bundle of rags that I could use
Hey anybody,
Can you spare a dime
If you're really hurtin', a nickel would be fine
Hey everybody
Nothin' we can buy
Chump Hare Rama, ain't no good to try
Recession
Depression

Wah-ooh-wah-ooh WAH-WAH
Wah-ooh-wah-ooh WAH-WAH

Well, well,
Hey lawdy mama,
Can't afford no shoes
Maybe there's a bundle of rags that I could use
Hey anybody,
Can you spare a dime
If you're really hurtin', a nickel would be fine
Hey everybody
Nothin' we can buy
Chump Hare Rama, ain't no good to try
Recession
Depression

5. Heavenly Bank Account 3:16

UMRK
July-September 1980

Engineers: Mark Pinske, Alan Sides, Bob Stone

FZ—vocals; lead guitar
Ike Willis—vocals; rhythm guitar?
Ray White—vocals; rhythm guitar?
Bob Harris—vocals?
Steve Vai—stunt guitar
Tommy Mars—keyboards
Arthur Barrow—bass
David Logeman—drums

He's got twenty million dollars
In his Heavenly Bank Account . . .
All from those chumps who was
Born again
Oh yeah, oh yeah

He's got seven limousines
And a private plane . . .
All for the use of his
Special Friends
Oh yeah, oh yeah

He's got thousand-dollar suits
And a Wembley Tie . . .
Girls love to stroke it
While he's on the phone
Oh yeah, oh yeah

At the House of Representatives
He's a groovy guy . . .
When he Gives Thanks
He is not alone . . .

He is dealin'
He is really dealin'
IRS can't determine
Where The Hook is

It is easy with the Bible
To pretend that
You're in Show Biz
(And a-one, and a-two, and a . . . )

They won't get him
They will never get him
For the naughty stuff
That he did

It is best in cases like this
To pretend that
You are stupid
(DUH . . . )

He's got Presidential Help
All along the way
He says the grace
While the lawyers chew
Oh yeah
They sure do

And the Governors agree to say:
"He's a lovely man!"
He makes it easier for
Them to screw
All of you . . .
Yes, that's true!

'Cause he helps put The Fear of God
In the Common Man
Snatchin' up money
Everywhere he can
Oh yeah
Oh yeah

He's got twenty million dollars
In his Heavenly Bank Account
You ain't got nothin', people
You ain't got nothin', people
You ain't got nothin', people
Thank the man . . . oh yeah

As we end another broadcast day
Let me say
That you ain't got nothin'
And he's got it all
And your miserable self
Is against the wall
The only thing you have not tried
It's the sport of chumps
That's SUICIDE

6. Cocaine Decisions 2:52

UMRK
c. 1981-82

Engineers: Mark Pinske and/or Bob Stone

FZ—vocals
Roy Estrada—vocals
Bob Harris—vocals
Craig "Twister" Steward—harmonica
Bobby Martin—keyboards
Tommy Mars—keyboards
Scott Thunes—bass
Chad Wackerman—drums

Chop a line now . . .
Cocaine decisions . . .
You are a person with a snow job
You got a fancy gotta-go job
Where the cocaine decision that you make today
Will mean that millions somewhere else
Will do it your way

Cocaine decisions . . .
You are a person who is high class
You are a person not in my class
And the cocaine decision that you make today
Will mean nothing later on
When you get nose decay

I don't wanna know
'Bout the things that you pull
Outta your nose
Or where they goes
But if you are wasted
From the stuff you're stickin' in it
I get madder every day
'Cause what you do 'n what you say
Affects my life in such a way
I learn to hate it every minute!

Cocaine decisions . . .
You are a doctor or a lawyer
You got an office with a foyer
And the cocaine decision that you make today
Will not be discovered till it's over 'n done
By the customers you hold at bay

Cocaine decisions . . .
You are a movie business guy
You got accountants who supply
The necessary figures
To determine when you fly
To Acapulco
Where all your friends go

Cocaine decisions . . .
We must watch the stuff you make
You have let us eat the cake
While your accountants tell you Yes Yes Yes
You make EXPENSIVE UGLINESS
(How do you do it?—Let me guess . . . )
Cocaine decisions . . .
Cocaine decisions . . .
Cocaine decisions . . .
Cocaine decisions . . .
Cocaine decisions . . .
Cocaine decisions . . .

7. Dumb All Over 4:03

UMRK
July-September 1980

Engineers: Mark Pinske, Allen Sides, Bob Stone

FZ—lead vocals; lead guitar
Ike Willis—vocals; rhythm guitar?
Ray White—vocals; rhythm guitar?
Jimmy Carl Black—voice
Tommy Mars—keyboards
Arthur Barrow—bass
David Logeman—drums

Ay!

Hotel room mo-mo-mo-mom mo-mo-mom
Hotel room mo-mo-mo-mom mo-mo-mom
Ay-ay-ay-ay!

Whoever we are
Wherever we're from
We shoulda noticed by now
Our behavior is dumb
And if our chances
Expect to improve
It's gonna take a lot more
Than tryin' to remove
The other race
Or the other whatever
From the face
Of the planet altogether

They call it THE EARTH
Which is a dumb kinda name
But they named it right
'Cause we behave the same . . .
We are dumb all over
Dumb all over,
Yes we are
Dumb all over,
Near 'n far
Dumb all over,
Black 'n white
People, we is not wrapped tight

Nurds on the left
Nurds on the right
Religious fanatics
On the air every night
Sayin' the Bible
Tells the story
'N makes the details
Sound real gory
'Bout what to do
If the geeks over there
Don't believe in the book
We got over here

You can't run a race
Without no feet
'N pretty soon
There won't be no street
For dummies to jog on
Or doggies to dog on
Religious fanatics
Can make it be all gone
(I mean it won't blow up
'N disappear
It'll just look ugly
For a thousand years . . . )

You can't run a country
By a book of religion
Not by a heap
Or a lump or a smidgeon
Of foolish rules
Of ancient date
Designed to make
You all feel great
While you fold, spindle
And mutilate
Those unbelievers
From a neighboring state

TO ARMS! TO ARMS!
Hooray! That's great
Two legs ain't bad
Unless there's a crate
They ship the parts
To mama in
For souvenirs: two ears (Get Down!)
Not his, not hers (but what the hey?)
The Good Book says:
"It gotta be that way!"
But their book says:
"REVENGE THE CRUSADES . . .
With whips 'n chains
'N hand grenades . . . "

TWO ARMS? TWO ARMS?
Have another and another
Our God says:
"There ain't no other!"
Our God says
"It's all okay!"
Our God says
"This is the way!"

It says in the book:
"Burn 'n destroy . . .
'N repent, 'n redeem
'N revenge, 'n deploy
'N rumble thee forth
To the land of the unbelieving scum on the other side
'Cause they don't go for what's in the book
'N that makes 'em BAD
So verily we must choppeth them up
And stompeth them down
Or rent a nice French bomb
To poof them out of existence
While leaving their real estate just where we need it
To use again
For temples in which to praise

OUR GOD
("Cause he can really take care of business!")

And when his humble TV servant
With humble white hair
And humble glasses
And a nice brown suit
And maybe a blonde wife who takes phone calls
Tells us our God says
It's okay to do this stuff
Then we gotta do it,
'Cause if we don't do it,
We ain't gwine up to hebbin!
(Depending on which book you're using at the time . . . Can't use theirs . . . it don't work . . . it's all lies . . . Gotta use mine . . . )
Ain't that right?
That's what they say
Every night . . .
Every day . . .
Hey, we can't really be dumb
If we're just following God's Orders
Hey, Let's get serious . . .
God knows what he's doin' . . .
He wrote this book here
An' the book says:
"He made us all to be just like Him," so . . .
If we're dumb . . .
Then God is dumb . . .
(An' maybe even a little ugly on the side)

DUMB ALL OVER
A LITTLE UGLY ON THE SIDE
DUMB ALL OVER
A LITTLE UGLY ON THE SIDE
DUMB ALL OVER
A LITTLE UGLY ON THE SIDE
DUMB ALL OVER
A LITTLE UGLY ON THE SIDE

8. Promiscuous 2:03

Royal Oak Music Theatre, Detroit, Michigan
February 26, 1988

Engineers: Bob Stone and Harry Andronis

FZ—lead guitar/vocal
Ike Willis—guitar/vocal
Mike Keneally—guitar/synth/vocal
Bobby Martin—keyboards/vocal
Ed Mann—percussion
Walt Fowler—trumpet
Bruce Fowler—trombone
Paul Carman—alto sax
Albert Wing—tenor sax
Kurt McGettrick—baritone sax
Scott Thunes—bass
Chad Wackerman—drums

Here we go!

The Surgeon General, Doctor Koop
S'posed to give you all the poop
But when he's with P.M.R.C.
The poop he's scoopin'
Amazes me

C-Span showed him, all dressed up
In his phoney Doctor God get-up
He looked in the camera and fixed his specs
'N gave a fascinating lecture
'Bout anal sex
ANAL SEX
ANAL SEX
ANAL SEX
ANAL SEX

He says it is not good for us
We just can't be promiscuous
He's just a doctor—he should know
It's the work of the Devil, so
Girls, don't blow!
DON'T BLOW
DON'T BLOW

Don't blow Jimmy, don't blow Bobby
Get yourself another hobby
(If Jesus practiced medicine
I'm sure he'd do it
Just like him)

Is Doctor Koop a man to trust?
It seems at least that Reagan must
(And Ron's a trusting sort of guy—
He trusts Ed Meese
I wonder why?)
I WONDER WHY
WONDER WHY

The A.M.A. has just got caught
For doin' stuff they shouldn't ought
All they do is lie and lie
Where's Doctor Koop?
He's standin' by

Surgeon General? What's the deal?
Is your epidemic real?
Are we leaving something out?
Something we can't talk about?
A little green monkey over there
Kills a million people?
That's not fair!
Did it really go that way?
Did you ask the C.I.A.?
Would they take you serious,
Or have THEY been
Promiscuous
Have THEY been Promiscuous
Have THEY been Promiscuous
Have THEY been Promiscuous

9. Thing-Fish Intro 2:56

guitar track:
Stadthalle, Vienna, Austria
June 28, 1982 (soundchek)
overdubs:
UMRK, c. 1982-84

Engineers: Mark Pinske and Bob Stone

Ike Willis—THING-FISH
FZ—rhythm guitar
Tommy Mars—keyboards
Arthur Barrow—bass
Chad Wackerman—drums

Thing-Fish:

Once upon a time, musta been 'round October, few years back, in one o' dose TOP SECRET LABMO-TORIES de gubbnint keep stashed away underneath Virginia, an EVIL PRINCE, occasion'ly employed as a part-time THEATRICAL CRITICIZER set to woikin' on a plot fo de systematic GENOCIDICAL REMOVE'LANCE of all unwanted highly-rhythmic individj'lls an' sissy-boys!

De cocksucker done whiffed up a secret POTIUM . . . an' right 'long wid it, de ATROCIOUS IDEA dat what he been boilin' up down deahhhh jes' mights be de FINAL SOLUTIUM to DE WHITE MAIN'S 'BOIDENNN', ef yo' acquire my drift . . .

Well, he were sure he had a GOOD THING GOIN' . . . but, dere was always de possobility dat somethin' might fuck up, so, he planned to have a little test, jes' to check it all out befo' he dump't it in de wattuh supply.

Sho'tly denafter, wit HIGH-LEVEL GUBNINT COROBBERATIUM, he arranged to have a good-will visit to SAN QUENTIM, 'long wit some country-westin mu-zishnin's, 'n sprinkle a little bit of it on some of de boys in deahhh (since dey done used a few of 'em befo' when dey was messin' wit de ZYPH'LISS).

So, heah dey come wit de POTIUM, dump'nit all in de mash potatoes!

Den dey wen' up to de warden's office fo' some HOT TODDY, watchin' a little football while dey's waitin' to see what gone happen!

Fact o' de matter were: NOTHIN' HAPPENED, so dey went off'n dribbled it in a special shipnint of GALOOT CO-LOG-NUH dat went out 'bouts NOVEMBER!

Next thing y'know, fagnits be droppin' off like flies . . . 'long wit a large number of severely-tanned individj'lls, pre-zumnably of HAY'CHEN EXTRAKMENT!

But NOT DE BOYS IN DE REST HOME! Oh no! Mixin' de shit wit de mash potatoes done SMOOTHED IT OUT a little, so's it wouldn't KILL yo' ass, BUT, it sho' would make y'ugly! 'N ef y'was already UGLY, it'd make yo ass MEAN 'n UGLY . . . 'n ef you was already MEAN 'n UGLY, it'd turn ya into a strange, UNKNOWN KREETCHUH, never befo' seen on BROADWAY!

Thass right! It'd turn ya' into a 'MAMMY NUN'! Head like a potato . . . lips like a duck . . . big ol' hands, puffin' up! BIG ONES! Science! ME-jev'l re-LIJ-mus costumery all over yo' BODY! Yow! Oh yeah! Mmmm-hmmm!

10. The Central Scrutinizer 2:50

Village Recorders, LA
April, 1979

Engineers: Joe Chiccarelli, Mick Glossop & Steve Nye

FZ—vocals
Warren Cuccurullo—rhythm guitar
Denny Walley—slide guitar
Peter Wolf—keyboards
Arthur Barrow—bass
Ed Mann—percussion
Vinnie Colaiuta—drums

Central Scrutinizer:

This is the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER . . . it is my responsibility to enforce all the laws that haven't been passed yet. It is also my responsibility to alert each and every one of you to the potential consequences of various ordinary everyday activities you might be performing which could eventually lead to The Death Penalty (or affect your parent's credit rating). Our criminal institutions are full of little creeps like you who do wrong things . . . and many of them were driven to these crimes by a horrible force called MUSIC!

Our studies have shown that this horrible force is so dangerous to society at large that laws are being drawn up at this very moment to stop it forever! Cruel and inhuman punishments are being carefully described in tiny paragraphs so they won't conflict with the Constitution (which, itself, is being modified in order to accommodate THE FUTURE).

I bring you now a special presentation to show what can happen to you if you choose a career in MUSIC . . . The WHITE ZONE is for loading and unloading only . . . if you have to load or unload, go to the WHITE ZONE . . . you'll love it . . . it's a way of life . . .

Hi, it's me, I'm back.

11. Porn Wars Deluxe 25:51

includes Bow Tie Daddy, SEX and parts of It Can't Happen Here, Brown Shoes Don't Make It, What's The Ugliest Part Of Your Body?, Who Are The Brain Police? and He Used To Cut The Grass

T.T.G. Studios, LA
March 9 & 12, 1966

Produced by Tom Wilson
Director of engineering for MGM: Val Valentin
Engineers: Ami Hadani & Tom Hidley

FZ—vocals & vocals
Ray Collins—vocals
Jim Black—drums & vocals
Roy Estrada—bass & vocals
Elliot Ingber—guitar
+
Eugene DiNovi—piano
Gene Estes—percussion
Neil LeVang—guitar
+
And maybe some other freaks

—oOo—

Mayfair & Apostolic Studios, NYC
July-October, 1967

Engineers: Gary Kellgren, Dick Kunc

FZ—guitar, vocals
Ian Underwood—piano
Don Preston—keyboards
Roy Estrada—bass
Billy Mundi—drums
Jimmy Carl Black—drums

—oOo—

Piano people voices from Apostolic Studios, NYC
October, 1967

Engineers: Dick Kunc

Spider Barbour—voice
All-Night John Kilgore—voice
Monica—voice

—oOo—

Village Recorders, LA
April, 1979

Engineers: Joe Chiccarelli, Mick Glossop & Steve Nye

Ike Willis—lead vocals
Peter Wolf—keyboards
Patrick O'Hearn—bass
Vinnie Colaiuta—drums

—oOo—

Hammersmith Odeon, London, UK
February 17-19, 1979

Engineers: Mick Glossop, Bob Stone

FZ—lead guitar & vocals
Ike Willis—rhythm guitar & vocals
Warren Cuccurullo—rhythm guitar & vocals
Denny Walley—slide guitar & vocals
Tommy Mars—keyboards & vocals
Peter Wolf—keyboards
Ed Mann—percussion
Arthur Barrow—bass & vocals
Vinnie Colaiuta—drums

—oOo—

UMRK
c. July-October 1982

Engineers: Mark Pinske and/or Bob Stone

FZ—guitar, vocals
Ray White—vocals
Bob Harris—vocals
Ike Willis—vocals
Tommy Mars—keyboards
Arthur Barrow—bass
Chad Wackerman—drums

—oOo—

Thing-Fish section (including some dialog from Galoot Up-Date) from UMRK
c. 1982-83

Engineers: Mark Pinske and/or Bob Stone

Ike Willis—Thing-Fish voice, rhythm guitar?
Steve Vai—guitar?
FZ—rhythm guitar?
Tommy Mars—keyboards
Arthur Barrow—bass
Chad Wackerman—drums

—oOo—

Voices from the Committee on Commerce, Science and Transportation
September 19, 1985

Senator Danforth (R-Missouri)
Senator Hollings (D-South Carolina)
Senator Trible (R-Virginia)
Senator Hawkins (R-Florida)
Senator Exon (D-Nebraska)
Senator Gorton (R-Washington)
Senator Gore (D-Tennessee)
Tipper Gore
Reverend Jeff Ling
FZ

—oOo—

UMRK, c. 1985

Engineer: Bob Stone

FZ—Synclavier

Chairman (John Danforth): The reason for this hearing is not to promote any legislation. Indeed, I don't know of any suggestion that any legislation be passed. But to simply provide a forum for airing the issue itself, for ventilating the issue, for bringing it out in the public domain. Senator Hollings.

Senator Hollings: I've had the opportunity to, ah, attend a, a showing, you might say, or presentation of, ah, this porn rock, as they call it. In the test of pornography, one of the things to look at is it, it does not have any redeeming social value. Ah, there could be an exception here, because having attended that pres, presentation, the redeeming social value I find that is inaudible. I have a hard time understanding it, then. Paul, since I traveled the country for 3 years, 'n they said they could not understand me. Maybe I could make a good rock star; I don't know. Heh . . . But in all candor, I would tell you it's, it's outrageous filth. So, I'll be looking from this Senator's standpoint, not just to bring pressures but to try to see if there is some constitutional provisions to tax, or approach that can be used on the Congress to limit this outrageous filth.

Bow tie daddy dontcha blow your top
Everything's under control
Bow tie daddy dontcha blow your top
'Cause you think you're gettin' too old
Don't try to do no thinkin'
Just go on with your drinkin'
Just have your fun, you old son of a gun
Then drive home in your Lincoln

Senator Exon: What is the reason for these hearings in front of the Commerce Committee?
FZ: Sex!
Senator Hawkins: Well . . .
FZ: Sex!
Senator Hawkins: Thank you. I think that statement tells the story to this committee.
Rev. Jeff Ling: "Listen you little slut, do as you are told"
Senator Exon: What is the reason . . .
FZ: Sex!
Senator Exon: For these hearings in front of the Commerce Committee?
FZ: Sex!
Underwear
FZ: Bondage!
Rev. Jeff Ling: Listen you little slut
Rev. Jeff Ling: Listen you little slut, do as you are told
FZ: Sex, and lots of it
Rev. Jeff Ling: Fixed her good.
FZ: Sex! Sex! Sex! Sex! . . .

Senator Hawkins: I'd be interested to see what toys your kids ever had.
FZ: Why would you be interested?
Senator Hawkins: Just as a point of interest in this . . .
FZ: Well, come on over to the house. I'll show 'em to you . . . Really!
Senator Hawkins: I . . . I might do that.

Senator Trible: Rape, incest, sexual violence . . . is like sandpaper to the soul . . .
Senator Trible: Now, the effects of such lyrics on a well adjusted child may not be cataclysmic
Senator Hollings: It's outrageous filth!
Senator Trible: Rather the emotional damage is more subtle
Senator Hawkins: Fire and chains and . . . other
Senator Hollings: It's outrageous filth!
Senator Hawkins: Objectionable . . . tools of gratification in some twisted minds . . .
Johnny Guitar Watson: YEAH!
Senator Trible: Now the effects of such lyrics on a well adjusted child may not be cataclysmic . . .
Senator Hollings: Porn rock
Senator Hollings: Willy nilly over the air
Senator Trible: Rather the emotional damage is more subtle
Senator Hawkins: Fire and chains and . . . other
Senator Hollings: If I could find some way constitutionally to do away with it, I would.
Senator Hawkins: Objectionable . . . tools of gratification in some twisted minds . . .

Senator Trible: Now the effects of such lyrics on a well adjusted child may not be cataclysmic . . .
Johnny Guitar Watson: YEAH!
Senator Hollings: Something that we have got to give some kind of attention to.
Senator Trible: The mere announcement of this hearing led to cries of censorship.

Senator Trible: Now the effects of such lyrics on a well adjusted child may not be cataclysmic . . .
Senator Hollings: Porn Rock
Senator Trible: Now the effects of such lyrics on a well adjusted child may not be cataclysmic . . .
Senator Hollings: If I could find some way constitutionally to do away with it, I would.
Senator Trible: Rather the emotional damage . . .

Chairman: Thank you very much, Mr. Zappa. You understand that the, the, ah, previous witnesses were not asking for legislation. And I, I don't know, I can't speak for Senator Hollings, but I think that the prevailing view here is that nobody is asking for legislation. The question is just focusing on what a lot of people perceived to be a problem, and you have indicated that you at least understand that there is another point of view.

Senator Hollings: Willy nilly over the air
Senator Hollings: Willy nilly over the air
Senator Hollings: Willy nilly over the air

Chairman: Senator Gore.

Senator Gore: Thank you very much, Mr. Chairman. I found your statement very interesting and, ah, let me say although I disagree with some of the statements that you make and have made on other occasions, I have been a fan of your music, believe it or not. And I, I, ah, respect you as a true original and a tremendously talented musician.

Spider: Ooh, wait a minute!

Senator Exon: I was surprised that Senator Gore knew and liked your music. I must confess that I have never heard any of your music, to my knowledge.
FZ: I would be more than happy to recite my lyrics to you.

It can't happen here
It can't happen here
I'm telling you, my dear
That it can't happen here
Because I been checkin' it out, baby
I checked it out a couple a times

But I'm telling you
It can't happen here
Oh darling, it's important that you believe me
(Bop bop bop bop)
That it can't happen here

Who could imagine that they would freak out somewhere
in Kansas . . .
(Kansas . . . Kansas . . . Kansas . . . Kansas . . . )
(Kansas, Kansas, do-do-dun to-to
Kansas, Kansas, la la la)
(Kansas, Kansas, do-do-dun to-to
Kansas, Kansas)
Who could imagine that they would freak out in Minnesota . . .
(Mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi
Mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi . . . )
(Mama Minnesota, Mama Minnesota, Mama Minnesota,
Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma Mama Minnesota,
Mama Minnesota, Mama Minnesota,
Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma Mama Minnesota)
Who could imagine . . .

Who could imagine
That they would freak out in Washington, D.C.

Senator Exon: Can we forgo that?
Senator Gore: You, you've probably never heard of the Mothers Of Invention.
Senator Exon: I have heard of Glenn Miller and Mitch Miller. Did you ever perform with them?

Spider: They don't even understand their own music . . . of course nobody does, but . . .
John: They don't, they don't even know what they're doing
Spider: No!
John: I've, I've seen 'em a couple of times . . .
Spider: Did . . . did you see their uniforms?
John: Unbelievable!
Monica: Which ones? They, the red ones?
John: All those rhinestones over their rings and things like that
Monica: Do you know what I . . .
John: Gold lamé hoof-covers . . . Unbelievable!

Senator Hollings: Maybe I could make a good rock-star
Senator Hollings: Maybe I could make a good rock-star
Rev. Jeff Ling: Gonna drive my love inside you
etc.
Senator Hollings: It's outrageous filth
Senator Hollings: It's outrageous filth
Rev. Jeff Ling: Come with daddy!
etc., etc.
Senator Hollings: Maybe I could make a good rock-star
Rev. Jeff Ling: Come with daddy!
Senator Hollings: Maybe I could make a good rock-star
Rev. Jeff Ling: Come with daddy!
Senator Hollings: Maybe I could make a good rock-star
etc., etc.

Chairman: Sorry. Your time has expired.

A world of secret hungers
Perverting the men who make your laws
Every desire is hidden away
In a drawer in a desk by a Naugahyde chair
On a rug where they walk and drool
Past the girls in the office

Senator Hollings: Rock, rock, Porn Rock!
Senator Hollings: Rock porn
etc.
Senator Hollings: Willy nilly over the air

Senator Hollings: An' I think your suggestion is a good one. If you print those words, that would go a long way to satisfying everyone's objections, I . . .
FZ: All we have to do is find out how it is going to be paid for.

Senator Hawkins: This issue is too hot not to cool down.
Senator Hawkins:Pyromania. Burn the building! Burn! Burn! Burn! No question. Burn the building! Burn! Burn! Burn!
Senator Trible: The mere announcement of this hearing led to cries of censorship
Johnny Guitar Watson: YEAH!
Senator Trible: Not the self-appointed guardians of the national morality, as some would suggest
Senator Hollings: If I could find some way constitutionally to do away with it I would
Senator Hollings: Within the constrictions of free speech
Senator Hollings: Willy nilly over the air
Senator Hawkins: This issue is too hot not to cool down
Senator Hollings: So, I'll be looking from this Senator's standpoint, not just to bring pressures but to try to see if there is some constitutional provisions to tax, or approach that can be used on the Congress to limit this outrageous filth.
Johnny Guitar Watson: YEAH!

Thing-Fish:
We'll get back to de wimp and his low-budget conceptium of personal freedom in just a moment. But foist, welcome to: WHAT DE FUCK GWINE ON HERE? (A celebratium o' de American way o' life!)

Senator Hollings: I noticed on the media yesterday morning something about a tax bill. I have looked into that. That does not pertain to this particular hearing, but we do know that the matter of the broadcast airwaves gives more or less, the most limited of protected speech, because the airwaves do belong to the American public. They invade the privacy of the homes. And we do know under the law of pornography that children are given a special protection. I want everyone to know I'm keeping that foremost in mind, and I am asking the best of constitutional minds, if there's some way in the world to try to limit it as we go along with the voluntary labeling. I commend those who are now beginning to label. That's what we would like to have, truth in labeling. I don't think we can outlaw pornography. I do not have that in mind at all. But to take 6 to 7 hours—that's the average listening time, Senator, as I understand, by the youngsters of this particular rock porn and rock music and everything else of that kind. Well, let's say rock music and intersperse it with pornography. This is a matter of national concern, and it's something that we have got to give some kind of attention to within the constrictions of free speech. So, I'll be looking from this Senator's standpoint, not just to bring pressures but to try to see if there is some constitutional provisions to tax, or approach that can be used by the Congress to limit this outrageous filth.

ALL YOUR CHILDREN ARE POOR
UNFORTUNATE VICTIMS OF
SYSTEMS BEYOND THEIR CONTROL
A PLAGUE UPON YOUR IGNORANCE & THE GRAY
DESPAIR OF YOUR UGLY LIFE

Where did Annie go
When she went to town?
Who are all those creeps
That she brings around?

Chairman: Senator Trible.
Senator Trible: I believe this may well be the most important hearing conducted by the Commerce Committee this year. I look forward to working with you and my colleages on this committee, the Parents Music Resource Center, the recording and broadcast industries, and responsible citizens everywhere to come back to respond to this very real problem.

ALL YOUR CHILDREN ARE POOR
UNFORTUNATE VICTIMS OF LIES YOU BELIEVE
A PLAGUE UPON YOUR IGNORANCE THAT KEEPS
THE YOUNG FROM THE TRUTH THEY DESERVE . . .

Chairman: Senator Gore.
Senator Gore: Thank you very much, Mr. Chairman. And I would like to thank you and commend you for calling this hearing. Because my wife has been heavily involved in the evolution of this issue, I have gained quite a bit of familiarity with it, and I have really gained an education in what is involved. I was interested when the hearing was first announced to have the opportunity to ask the heads of the record companies whether or not they felt some responsibility. I am told by staff that every single one of the chief executive officers invited to participate chose to decline that invitation. I fully understand that, but I wanted to note that fact for the record, and I think that they should take a look at what their companies are doing and just ask themselves as human beings whether or not this is the way they want to spend their lives, if this is the way they want to earn a living, if this is the kind of contribution they want to make to the society in which we live. No one is proposing or contemplating the government answering that question for them.

Senator Exon: While I think these hearings should not have been held if we are not considering legislation or regulations at this time, I emphasized earlier that they might follow. I simply want to say to you that I suspect that, unless the industry "cleans up their act"—and I use that in quote words again—there is likely to be legislation. And it seems to me that it would not be too far removed from reality or too offensive to anyone if you could follow the general guidelines, right, wrong, or indifferent, that are now in place with regard to the movie industry.

Senator Hollings: To be perfectly candid with you, I would look for regulations or some kind of legislation, if it could be constitutionally accomplished, unless of course we have these initiatives from the industry itself.

What will you do when the label comes off,
And the plastic's all melted,
And the chrome is too soft?

WHO ARE THE BRAIN POLICE?

Chairman: Senator Hawkins, we are delighted to have you here.
Senator Hawkins: I commend you, Mr. Chairman and the committee, for holding this all important hearing. As chairman of the Children, Family, Drugs, and Alcoholism Subcommittee, this is a subject that I am very familiar with. Much has changed since Elvis' seemingly innocent times. Subtleties, suggestions, and innuendo have given way to overt expressions and descriptions of often violent sexual acts, drug taking, and flirtations with the occult. The record album covers to me are self-explanatory. And I'd like to show a sampling . . . Porn Rock. "I— It's My Life," and "I Love Sex" . . . With obviously a lot of fire and chains and . . . other objectionable . . . tools of gratification in some twisted minds. There is no question about the message. And I still hear art is art, and in America artists are supposed to be free to express themselves. And who has the responsibility to answer that question? Parents? The music industry? The Government? I speak as a legislator—I speak as a parent—a veteran who has brought up three children through adolescence. I know the temptations dangled in front of teenagers and I know the frustrations parents experience all through this process. The sense of hopelessness when you get the feeling your child won't listen to you. There is in these times often a need to look to a force outside yourself for help. The question we must ask is, should the force be the Government, and that is what this hearing is designed to determine. I believe it will be helpful before we proceed any further to get an idea of what it is we are talking about. One criticism of the rock industry is the way it portrays values in rock videos which are viewed by the kids, while we are all busy here being legislators. There are suggestions that the move to label rock albums be extended to videos as well. I don't watch much television. I'm not sure how many of my colleagues get much opportunity to watch any of the music video shows now available on cable and free TV. I brought along two videos from which to choose which I believe are representative of the kind of presentations which has caused the furor.

What's the thing that they's talkin' about everywhere?
SEX
When they wanna be suave 'n debonair
SEX

What's poppin' up the most from coast to coast
SEX
At yer bongo party an' yer weenie roast
SEX

Do ya do or don't ya don't
SEX
Bet yer lyin' if ya say ya won't

Some girls try it 'n go on a diet
Then they worry 'cause they's too fat
Who wants t'ride on an ironin' board?
That ain't no fun . . . I tried me one

Grow that meat all over yer bones
Work the wall with the local jones
'N while you do it, remember this line
The Sniffer says it all the time

"THE BIGGER THE CUSHION, THE BETTER THE PUSHIN'
THE BIGGER THE CUSHION, THE BETTER THE PUSHIN'
THE BIGGER THE CUSHION, THE BETTER THE PUSHIN'
THE BIGGER THE CUSHION . . . "

Makes no difference if yer young or old
SEX
Don't you act like it's made of gold
SEX

Ladies they need it just like the guys
SEX
Maybe you could use a protein surprise
SEX

Any time, anywhere
SEX
Why d'ya think it's growin' there?
SEX

Some girls try it 'n they don't like it
They complain 'cause it don't last
Who wants to ride on a debutante?
They talks too much . . . they moves too fast

Watch the scenery while you ride
You can be very warm inside
'N when the train goes 'round the bend
Check the shrub'ry on the other end

"THE BIGGER THE CUSHION, THE BETTER THE PUSHIN'
THE BIGGER THE CUSHION, THE BETTER THE PUSHIN'
THE BIGGER THE CUSHION, THE BETTER THE PUSHIN'
THE BIGGER THE CUSHION . . . "

Senator Hawkins: That video— That video is called—
Chairman: Now— Now, wait a second. Senator Hawkins, just a minute. Now, this is a very large crowd today. We have allowed people in beyond the capacity of this room. We are not going to have any demonstrations. No applause, no demonstrations of any kind.

Thing-Fish:
I see some o' y'all be FROWNIN' . . . 'cause mebbe y'think what I's tellin' ya' is a LIE! Am I right? Les' jes' have a test . . . How many o' you nice folks think I knows what I's talkin' 'bout? RAISE Y'HAIN UP! Uh-huh! An' how many thinks my potato been bakin' too long? RAISE YO MIZZABLE HAIN UP! Uh-huh! Now . . . how many you folks is CONVINCED de gubnint be totally 'UNCONCERNED' wit de proliferatium o' UNDESIRABLE TENANTS in de CONDOMINIUM o' LIFE? An' how many folks believe THEY number won't come up, next time de breeze blow fum de Easterly directium? Les' face it, peoples! Ugly as I mights be, I AM YO' FUTCHUM! Ain't that right, SISTER OB'DEWLLA? Hmm hmm! Oh, oh yeah! Thass right!

Chairman: Senator Gorton.
Senator Gorton: Mr. Zappa, I, ah, am astounded at the courtesy and soft-voiced nature of the comments of my friend, the Senator from Tennessee. I can only say that I found your statement to be boorish, ah, incredibly and insensitively insulting to the people that were here previously; that you could manage to give the first amendment of the Constitution of the United States a bad name, if I felt that you had the slightest understanding of it, which I do not. You do not have the slightest understanding of the difference between Government action and private action, and you have certainly destroyed any case you might otherwise have had with this Senator.

We see in the back
Of the City Hall mind
The dream of a girl about thirteen
Off with her clothes and into a bed
Where she tickles his fancy
All night long

Chairman: Mr. Zappa, thank you very much for your testimony.
FZ: Thank you.
Chairman: Next witness is John Denver . . .
Senator Hollings: We haven't got 'em whipped on this one yet. You got a bear by the tail here, uh? Jeezis!

I'm out at last
Boy, the world sure looks different
Wow . . . there's hardly anything fun to do
Since they made music illegal
But I'm hooked
I got the habit
I've got to have it
I need to play
But there's no musicians anymore
They're all gone
Wait! I've got it!
I'll be sullen and withdrawn
I'll dwindle off into the twilight realm
Of my own secret thoughts
I'll walk through the parking lot
In a semi-catatonic state
And dream of guitar notes
To go with the loading zone announcements.

 

12. Tinsel Town Rebellion 3:43

includes quotations from Black Sabbath (Iommi/Osbourne/Butler/Ward) and Sunshine Of Your Love (Brown/Bruce/Clapton)

Berkeley Community Theater
December 5, 1980 (early and late shows)

Recording engineer: Tom Flye
Remix engineer: Bob Stone

FZ—lead guitar & vocals
Ike Willis—rhythm guitar & vocals
Ray White—rhythm guitar & vocals
Steve Vai—rhythm guitar & vocals
Tommy Mars—keyboards & vocals
Bob Harris—keyboards, trumpet & high vocals
Arthur Barrow—bass & vocals
Vinnie Colaiuta—drums

From Madam Wong's to Starwood
To the Whiskey on the Strip
You can hear the crashing, blasting strum
Of bands that come to be real hip
And get a record contract
From a talent scout some day
They'll sell their ass, their cocks and balls
They'll take the check 'n walk away
If they're lucky they'll get famous
For a week or two perhaps
They'll buy some ugly clothes to wear
And hope the business don't collapse
Before some stupid magazine
Decides they're really good
They're a Tinsel Town Rebellion Band
From downtown Hollywood

Tinsel Town Rebellion,
Tinsel Town Rebellion Band
It's a little bitty Tinsel Town Rebellion
A Tinsel Town Rebellion Band

They used to play all kinds of stuff
And some of it was nice
Some of it was musical
But then they took some guy's advice
To get a record deal, he said,
They would have to be more punk
Forget their chops and play real dumb
Or else they would be sunk
So off they go to S.I.R. to learn some stupid riffs
And practice all their poses
In between their powder sniffs

Chop a line now, snort it up now

And when they think they've got it
They launch a new career
Who gives a fuck if what they play
Is somewhat insincere

Tinsel Town Rebellion,
Tinsel Town Rebellion Band
A Tinsel Town Rebellion,
A Tinsel Town Rebellion Band
Did you know that in Tinsel Town the people down there
Think that substance is a bore
And if your New Wave group looks good
They'll hurry on back for more
Of leather groups and plastic groups
And groups that look real queer
The Tinsel Town aficionados
Come to see and not to hear
But then again this system works
As perfect as a dream
It works for all of those record company pricks
Who come to skim the cream
From the cesspools of excitement
Where Jim Morrison once stood
It's the Tinsel Town Rebellion
From downtown Hollywood

13. Jesus Thinks You're A Jerk 9:18

includes quotations from Light Cavalry Overture (von Suppé), The Battle Hymn Of The Republic (Steffe/Howe), The Twilight Zone Theme (Constant), Entry Of The Gladiators (Fučík), The Old Rugged Cross (Bennard), Dixie (Emmett), Louie Louie (Richard Berry), Rock Of Ages (Toplady/Hastings), and a fragment of One Man—One Vote

Tower Theater, Upper Darby, PA
February 13 & 14, 1988
&
Royal Oak Music Theatre, Detroit, Michigan
February 26, 1988
&
Cumberland County Civic Center, Portland
March 15, 1988
&
Rothman Center, Teaneck, New Jersey
March 20, 1988
&
Civic Center, Providence
March 16, 1988
&
Nassau Coliseum, Uniondale, NY
March 25, 1988
&
Warner Theatre, Washington DC
February 9, 1988
&
Wembley Arena, London, UK
April 19, 1988
&
Shea's Theater, Buffalo
March 9, 1988
&
War Memorial Auditorium, Rochester, NY
March 11, 1988
&
Unknown location & date

Engineers: Bob Stone and Harry Andronis

FZ—lead guitar/vocal
Ike Willis—guitar/vocal
Mike Keneally—guitar/synth/vocal
Bobby Martin—keyboards/vocal
Ed Mann—percussion
Walt Fowler—trumpet
Bruce Fowler—trombone
Paul Carman—alto sax
Albert Wing—tenor sax
Kurt McGettrick—baritone sax
Scott Thunes—bass
Chad Wackerman—drums
guest vocalist: Eric Buxton

Yes, friends . . . Pass the plate around, friends . . . Join us, friends . . .

There's an ugly little weasel 'bout three-foot nine
Face puffed up from cryin' 'n lyin'
'Cause her sweet little hubby's
Suckin' prong part time
(In the name of The Lord)

Get a clue, little shrew
Oh yeah, oh yeah
Jesus thinks you're a jerk
Would he really choose Tammy to do His Work? Unh-unh

Hallelujah!
(Yes, friends . . . )

Robertson says that he's The One
Oh he sure is, if Armageddon
Is your idea of family fun,
An' he's got some planned for you!
(Now, tell me that ain't true)

Give me that old time religion!

Now, what if Jimbo's slightly gay,
Will Pat let Jimbo get away?
Everything we've heard him say
Indicates that Jim must pay,
(And it just might hurt a bit) Just a bit!
But keep that money rollin' in,
'Cause Pat and naughty Jimbo
Can't get enough of it (let's dance!)

Perhaps it's their idea
Of an Affirmative Action Plan
To give White Trash a 'special break';
Well, they took those Jeezo-bucks and ran
To the bank! To the bank! To the bank! To the bank!
And every night we can hear them thank
Their Buddy, up above
For sending down his love
(While you all smell the glove)

Henry Cisneros, ladies and gentlemen!

Jim and Pat should take a pole
(Right up each saintly glory-hole),
With tar and feathers too—
Just like they'd love to do to you

('Cause they think you are bad—
Yes, they do!
And they are very mad)

'Cause some folks don't want prayer in school!

(We'd need an ark to survive the drool
Of Micro-publicans, raised on hate,
And 'Jimbo-Jumbo' when they graduate)

Convinced they are 'The Chosen Ones'—
And all their parents carry guns,
(Hey, look! Godzilla!)
And hold them cards in the N.R.A.
(Ah, hellfire, Melvin, hey hee!)
(With their fingers on the trigger
("It's hot.")
When they kneel and pray)
("I mean that . . . ")

With a Ku-Klux muu-muu
In the back of the truck,
If you ain't Born Again,
They wanna mess you up, screamin':
"No abortion, no-siree!"
"Life's too precious, can't you see!"

(What's that hangin' from a neighbor's tree?
Why, it looks like 'colored folks' to me—
Would THEY do THAT . . .
They've been doin' it for years!
Seriously?)

And now, ladies and gentlemen, the dynamic Eric Buxton

Imagine if you will,
A multi-millionaire TV Evangelist,
Saved from Korean Combat duty by his father, a U.S. Senator

Studied law—
But is not qualified to practice it

Father of a "love child"
Who, in adulthood, hosts the remnants
Of papa's religious propaganda program

Claims not to be a "Faith Healer,"
But has, in the past,
Dealt sternly with everything from hemorrhoids to hurricanes

Involved with funding for an 'undeclared war' in Central America
Claiming Ronald Reagan and Oliver North as close friends

Involved in suspicous 'tax-avoidance schemes',
(Under investigation for 16 months by the I.R.S.)

Claims to be a MAN OF GOD;
Currently seeking the United States Presidency,
Hoping we will all follow him into—
The Twilight Zone

But, hey! What if Pat gets in the White House,
(No fuckin' way, Ike,
You know what I mean)

The rights of 'certain people' disappear
Mysteriously?

Now, wouldn't that sort of qualify
As an American Tragedy?
(Especially if they cover it up, sayin'
"Jesus told it to me!")
(I mean vapor tight, we're like this, okay?
I mean that)

I hope we never see that day,
(I mean that. Right here. It's hot. It's hot.)
In The Land of The Free—
Or someday will we?
(92?)
Will we?
(96?)

And if you don't know by now,
The truth of what I'm tellin' you,
Then, surely I have failed somehow—
Surely I have failed somehow
Surely I have failed somehow

And Jesus will think I'm a jerk, just like you—
If you let those TV Preachers
Make a monkey out of you!

I said:
"Jesus will think you're a jerk"
And it would be true!

There's an old rugged cross
In the land of the Stainless Maiden—
It's just burnin' on the lawn
But this person looks like Tom Braden!

Jim and Tammy!
Oh, baby!
You gotta go!
You really got to go!
Jim and Tammy got to go

FZ: Ladies and gentlemen, this is intermission. Get your butt out there and register to vote! Would you please? See you in a half an hour!

 

All compositions by Frank Zappa except as noted
Site maintained by Román García Albertos
http://globalia.net/donlope/fz/
Original transcription from the original albums
Transcription for new material from Record Labeling with corrections by Román and Charles Ulrich
This page updated: 2017-11-02