Apr. 1st, 2004

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35 minutes? In hip-hop?

Turns out it doesn't feel even that long, because the last track is such an afterthought: a so-so song featuring the album's only guest appearance (Phonte, from producer 9th Wonder's crew) and Murs's only uninspired rhymes. Pretend the record ends with the statement-of-purpose "And This Is For..."

Murs delivers good punchlines occasionally, but his main strength lies in telling unexceptional stories well. (And in sounding, for the most part, like he respects the women who he tells not to expect an emotional committment from him.) I'm glad he's sharpened his skills to the point of laying down 32 solid minutes and nearly knowing when to quit, and 9th Wonder handles the production just fine despite having either no ideas or no skills (can't tell which). I just can't get too fired up about a record that settles for not-bad-good-enough whenever convenient, no matter how satisfying the high points.

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Interesting pair. BWS sounds like a transitional record, keeping the carnival atmosphere of the original Mothers lineup but going long and instrumental in composition (I hear Uncle Meat may be similar). Weasels has horns and violin that present the same facade but the recordings look like a sketchbook of experiments discarded while making BWS -- not horrible dead ends, just siblings ideas presented with less individual restraint, making for a more difficult overall listen.

If it were 1970 and I picked these up as a Zappa fan I'd be disappointed with both and fearful that buying whatever came next would constitute being strung along rather than demonstrating open-mindedness or perseverance or loyalty. As an archaeologist now, though, I don't mind much. BWS's "The Little House I Used To Live In" held my attention for more of its length than any of the other 20-minute instrumental pieces I've heard before, but... see, I think the fact that I can't describe what I found more interesting about it may be intimately related to the fact that I don't find that kind of thing memorable much, and can never get to know it well even when I'm sure I like a given piece.

(My 17th and 18th Zappa records, his 9th and 10th.)

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Spent the few first tracks mentally composing a critique along these lines: Zappa had totally lost it by 1981 (whether 'it' was 'talent' or 'interest in rock music'), cranking out boring music with rote 80s studio gloss and, worst of all, stupid lyrics. Okay, so he'd never cared that much about lyrics -- he still knew how to fill up a song with amusing poodle dogs and pancake breakfasts if he wanted to; he's fully responsible for any irritation caused by his later polemical verbal sludge.

But I don't learn, do I? As has happened several times before, the 'accessible' tedious opening style gave way to the kind of thing I hoped for; in this case, two side-length interlocking suites of densely-arranged rock songs. (What would have been side 4 isn't bad either, but the satire gets dumber and the songs don't mesh so tightly.)

Zappa's increased grandiosity might have helped his lyrics here, because he's no longer content to skewer people he himself doesn't like. He's got to take on bigger problems, which means implicitly admitting there's an "us" involved. He's no more incisive on the subject of TV preachers than he was on disco, for example, but one glimpses the humane desire for society to unfuck itself eclipsing Sheik Yerbouti's "you kids get offa my lawn!" attitude.

(Gender politics note: I didn't catch any anti-gay lyrics, but women don't do as well. I hardly know what to make of the fact that the two female objects of derision we meet are named "Charlie" and "Jumbo". As my friend Jeff has pointed out, Zappa's take on race had more substance to it, even though if anything he painted racial caricatures more broadly. YAWYI has Ike Willis on a few tracks; I've heard bits of his Thing-Fish vocals and wondered at why I didn't find them offensive.)

(My 19th, Zappa's 34th.)

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Dorothy Fennel

February 2016

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