How different would my terrestrial teen age ears have been without the Mothers? They were the gateway for me to the world of "other"; music concrete, 20Th century classical, tape music, etc.
When I was first turned on to the Mothers of invention, and this album in particular, it was in Easter 1987. A friend and I had by chance encounter made the instant friendship with these two for lack of a better word freaks. His name was David, and regretfully the girlfriends name escapes me. He and her were older than my companion and I by a good 10 years. I'm not sure how I came to talk to them, but by the end of the day we all had become fast friends. Perhaps this is testimony to teenage naivety, or two 30 somethings desperate to relive the innocence of the first Be In held 20 years earlier, but all for of us stood out like sore thumbs in the tail end of Reagan's 1980's so a kinship was struck.
We all went back to David's apartment, who's location I don't recall, but it was the proverbial crash pad of someone with money. Darkly painted walls, well placed modernist lithographs hung on them, attempts to keep furnishings with the style of the railroad apartment. This place was everything a teenage mind feverish to escape the then still 50's suburbia of eastern Queens.
To say we didn't get stoned would be a lie. Nothing heavy, but we smoked pot and to my friend and I relatively unused lungs it certainly worked like it should. That night in an expansive state I heard three records that would forever spoil music for me. The first was second Silver Apples record - "Contact", The Electric Prunes "I Had Too Much To Dream (Last Night), and The Mothers of invention's "We're Only In It For The Money". Nothing on the radio sounded like this. Screw the Beatles, they were overthrown from the opening seconds of You And I's airplane sound. By the time The Mother's LP was placed, my mind was sufficiently opened to all sort of sonic possibilities. While the preceding records all sounded fantastic and would dictate what music I would prefer from that night after, the edge was given to Zappa's lyrics. Falling somewhere between insightful and singable, he was completely saying a clear screw this to conformity - even if that conformity at the time was being practiced by Hippies. So amazed by that record, I requested to my hosts to play the record again...they we're more that happy to oblige.
Like all good altered states it ends and come the morning we all bid goodbye. While my friend and I saw them around a few times after here and there, the magic as all spent in that one evening...
So what to make of We're Only In It For The Money now? Even after a ill conceived CD remix by Zappa in 1986, and subsequent return of the (relatively) original mix later, none of the punch has been lost. The social commentary is sharp as ever, and the mixture of garage band and Music Concrete / 20Th century classical is jaw dropping. There is a cohesive whole to the LP that few before and after have had. Sargent Pepper is avant lite compared to this. I'm sure the Beatles heard of Stockhausen, they may have even had one of his recording's lying around in their homes, but Zappa lived and breathed the music. And as such, when it came to using unusual sounds, there isn't a taming town to their capabilities.
As the sonics is amazing, so is the packaging. Turning Sargent Peppers graphics inside out - literally, Zappa had created the ultimate fuck you. The Pop Art harmony of Peter Blake is given a swift kick to the balls by Carl Shenkel. Where the Beatles are surrounded by their idols (how egotistical can you get?), Zappa and Shenkel create a Dadaist nightmare crowd of anti hero's (Nosferatu, Jack Ruby), Freaks (members of United Mutations, and a young Don Vliet), machinery, and Jimi Hendrix...he doesn't play on the record, but appears as a honorary Mother.
Using the Sargent Pepper's inside photo as template for the cover, in either a move that skewers The Rolling Stones drag photo shoot for Have You Seen Your Mother, Baby. Standing In The Shadows? or calling the Fab Four a bunch of ladies, there sits the Mothers snarling and uneasy. A bunch of old guys in a teen age rock and roll band, now in dresses and wigs.
Staring out in Mona Lisa deadpan is Jimmy Carl Black (as stated on the record: "Hi boys and girls, I'm Jimmy Carl Black, and I'm the Indian of the group. heeh hehh heh"), who passed away this week at the age of 70.
Please click on the review title for selected track: Who Needs The Peace Corps?
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