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46 of 49 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
CHAPTER 2: A QUANTUM LEAP, February 29, 2000
This review is from: Absolutely Free (Audio CD)
Frank Zappa's second release with the Mothers of Invention (following 1966's Freak Out!) displayed the awesome range of his vision (and capacity to achieve it) to a degree that even fans of its predecessor could scarcely comprehend. (In fact, most DIDN'T comprehend and still don't.) It is here that we first realize that Zappa is, first and foremost, a COMPOSER--he was writing modernist orchestral music before he ever picked up a guitar. The Mothers of Invention and the L.A. "freak" scene provided an opportunity for Zappa to get his compositions across in the marketplace and to be used as a weapon against cultural complacency, conformity, idiocy, and the repressive nature of the record industry itself. Absolutely Free succeeds on every level. Some have found the rapid changes of style on the album disorienting and incoherent. In fact, there is an exacting logic to every moment of the music, each section carefully constructed to be blown away by the proceeding section. The album is constructed as a suite of songs (actually two suites, originally separated thematically by sides on the LP), but each song functions as "mini-suites" in themselves, so rapidly do they change in musical directions. Yet there is an overwhelming propulsion to the sequencing that makes the album roar like a streamlined clown train from start to finish. You may not "get it" on the first listening or two, but stick with it, and the rigor of the musical structure will gradually unfold before you, much like reading James Joyce. If I'm making the album sound overly intellectual (and it IS intellectual--but not in the ordinary sense), let me not forget to mention that this is one of the funniest albums ever concocted. Hilarious lyrics, rug-pulling musical surprises, wild arrangements and rhythms abound. At certain points, you hear Ray Collins and Zappa force themselves to refrain from bursting out in laughter during their singing. This is one of the great lessons Zappa taught us, though--humor is a powerful artistic tool. With all of the sombre, pretentious "art albums" that continue up to the present day, thank God for this maniacal approach to serious art! From the "Louie-Louie"-inspired opener, "Plastic People," the gorgeous and absurd "Duke of Prunes" (Zappa's most elaborate satire of pop love songs to this date) to the ambitious "Call Any Vegetable" (read "vegetable" as "American"), the first suite is astounding. The seven-minute "Invocation and Ritual Dance of the Young Pumpkin" which separates its sections is Zappa and the Mothers at their fiercest improvosational best--its overwhelming power will either astound or annoy you, depending on your receptivity level--leads to the devastating, unexpected and multi-layered coda. The two suites are separated on CD by a 1967 single, "Big Leg Emma" and the blues-punk snarl of "Why Doncha Do Me Right?" They are very welcome, not only for the completist, but in providing some breathing room before the second suite kicks in. Zappa counts off, "One. Two. Buckle my shoe," before the disembowled lounge number "America Drinks" kicks in with its unwavering high-hat against the uncertain piano and vocals. THIS is jazz from hell, folks. A fast circus motif whirls us out of this and into the anti-high-school ditty, Status Back Baby,which swerves effortlessly into the heavy rock of "Uncle Bernie's Farm," a still-potent number concerning corporate greed exploiting childhood desires. Suzy Creamcheese's saga continues on "Son of," with its insane tempos that flash like electricity before the song vanishes in the puff of smoke like our now-not-so-innocent heroine herself. Then comes the big one. "Brown Shoes Don't Make It" is a towering masterpiece that deserves a review all its own. This multi-sectioned piece seems to sample every form of music imaginable, yet pulls you forward with incredible power. The setting is the sexually repressed world of suburbia, which Zappa associates with the unconscious. Out of this repressed environment, the "protagonist" of the song, City Hall Fred, forms a secret fantasy of a 13-year-old girl that may very well be his own daughter. Still uncomfortable to listen to after more than 30 years, "Brown Shoes" shocks and amazes like very little art even attempts. Instead of ending there, however, we return to "America Drinks and Goes Home," fully constructed now, in its proper lounge setting, complete with bar noise and stage patter, forever covering up the realities that the preceding material has just laid bare. I can only hint at the range and sound of the music on this album. You have to hear it to believe it. And if you're anything like me, who first heard it at the age of 15, it just might change your attitudes (not just toward music or art, but life) forever.
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10 of 10 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Two Mini-LP's In One Release, May 22, 2006
This review is from: Absolutely Free (Audio CD)
On the original LP, I played Side One more often than Side Two, as it seemed to flow better. The butchering of "Louie Louie" at the beginning of "Plastic People" sets the mood, as when the Mothers Of Invention were a bar band only, under the name of "The Soul Giants," they played such songs on demand to drunk, unruly crowds constantly, and this can make a person hate such a song. But there is obviously a fondness for it, as virtually all of Zappa's work has at least one passing reference to "Louie Louie" in it. Other versions of it, released later, are more true in structure to "Louie Louie," and are pretty funny to listen to. Here, it just permutates into a similar song, but obviously, they got away from that idea.
Organized incoherence becomes the theme of this performance, as "Duke Of Prunes," silly title and words that it has, starts with a soft, soothing melody, building up steam until the bridge, "Amnesia Vivance," which is basically a blitzkrieg of sound, clashing time signatures and different themes assailing the listener's ears at once, cleaning itself up to form the reprise of "Duke," the last verse being subtitled "The Duke Regains His Chops," a faster rendition of "Duke Of Prunes." Segue into "Call Any Vegetable," structurally the same as the "Duke" segment, but with more textures. This song sounds top-heavy and unbalanced, but quickly, one can tell it's intentional. There is a section of sour notes on the instruments, but they are played with deliberation, much like a lot of Captain Beefheart's music, and when it seques into "Invocation And Ritual Dance Of The Young Pumpkin," it's like a tense spring is being released. The extended jam is more about the mood of the piece, than what's actually being played. Seven minutes of frantically paced, free-form jamming, featuring soloing on guitar by Zappa, accompanied by an electronically treated soprano sax solo being simultaneously played by Bunk Gardner, and the the two musicians appear to be ignoring one another; each is going where he pleases here, held together with a remarkable job by the rhythm section. Some written credits have Jim Black playing drums with Billy Mundi (who looks amazingly like John Belushi, by the way), while Ray Collins is playing tambourine, but film clips from this era, have Black playing tambourine. When they hired Mundi, Black rarely played drums. He focused on singing. He sings a lot on the Mothers' records. But this forms into "Soft Sell Conclusion, which is actually the coda of "Call Any Vegetable." Very complex in texture, melodies and themes crashing into one another, while Zappa takes the last verse (you can hear Collins playing harmonica in the background), bringing the first half of "Absolutely Free" to its end.
The second half is just as accomplished, but is peppered with more short selections that lampoon society and American culture, with humor practically being another instrument. It is book-ended with the "America Drinks" theme, just Collins singing in a style like that of a lounge singer; they skewer teenagers in "Status Back Baby," relationships in "Son Of Suzy Creamcheese," and consumerism in "Uncle Bernie's Farm."
The most elaborate piece is "Brown Shoes Don't Make It," which is structured in such a way, it seems to be geared toward those with short attention spans, the A.D.D. Anthem. It is full of lots of nasty little themes about illicit (and illegal) sex, and rebellion, lines like "Be a loyal plastic robot for a world that doesn't care." It reaches a cacophonous conclusion, and closes with "America Drinks And Goes Home," a reprise of the original theme. Only this time, it has more instruments, and sounds from a crowded bar getting more and more out of control. Every musician who has ever played in a bar can identify with this.
It takes a little getting used to, but "Absolutely Free" is a very good record from possibly the wildest band ever to enter a studio.
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6 of 6 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Absolutely Indispensible, December 23, 2003
This review is from: Absolutely Free (Audio CD)
I found the vinyl version over 20 years ago. This album still represents for me one of Zappa's absolute best. From begining to end it is flawless. It is especially meaningful to those my age (46) and a bit older who have strong memories of the time period. If you buy the CD version, play it without Big Leg Emma and Why Don'tcha Do Me Right (neither on the vinyl). While good songs, they just don't fit the homogeneous feel of the rest of the work. Put on the headphones and marvel at the quality of this mid-sixties excercise in studio wizardry. See if you can find the bit taken from Stravinsky's Rites of Spring. And for a true Zappaphile it is a treasure trove of "continuity" references. Get this album!!
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