Frank & Co

Co de Kloet

Frank & Co

Foreword by Dweezil Zappa

© 2020 Co de Kloet/Zivasound

All rights reserved

Publisher | Marjan Tulp, Haver Productions haverproducties.nl
Producer | Menno Kalmann
Copy editing | Rob Bradley, Turnaround Translations turn-trans.com
Graphic design | Ruben Stellingwerf rubenstelli.nl
Joost Kuijpers joostkuijpersontwerp.nl
Cover photos | Menno Kalmann (front) Mark van Schaick (back)
ISBN | 978 90 821095 4 2
NUR | 660

No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without prior permission in writing from the publishers.

Haver Productions

For Linde, Jasmijn Ziva & Fabian Jacobus

Foreword

THE BOOK you’re about to read will elucidate the important characteristics of a lasting friendship between my father, Frank Zappa, and the author Co de Kloet. The respectful and edifying conversations between them have been magnetically preserved by Co, and they reveal playful ease at times. This is quizzically uncustomary considering my father’s disdain for being interviewed. My father was more notoriously greeted with fear and trembling from lesser journalists as his comportment toward them appeared to grow more menacing in response to their aimlessly regurgitated questions. However, conversations with my father in “journalist”-free zones were very different. He was very curious, open, and anthropological. He was fascinated by people and the folklore surrounding their proclivities. His musical text is only a hint at his keen perception of humans in the wild. Some of his songs have content that could be ripped from today’s news headlines even though they may have been written more than fifty years ago. His countless interviews reveal an even deeper understanding of the underpinnings of society and his ability to predict foreboding world events. Fake news is not a new invention and he wanted people to be aware of their need to be critical thinkers at all times.

Since Co de Kloet is not necessarily a journalist by trade, rather more of a mysterious practitioner of inventive alliances, he was able to develop a rapport with my father, stratified with unusual regularity. Co has manned various positions in the world of production for music, radio, and television. Among other talents, he has a remarkable ability to create opportunities for atypical artists to work in the realm of orchestral music. He’s been described as a creative catalyst in that regard.

He’s been operating from “a secret conurbation of coastal dunes” for decades and has found a way to consistently include my father’s musical works in broadcasted radio specials and other important events. Because of his pure love of my father’s music and other non-conformist tendencies, he’s an enigmatic character. I’m grateful that he understands and appreciates the things that make my father’s music different and that he has the enthusiasm and ability to articulate the significance and value of those differences, in comparison to other entertainment. I’m glad he got to know my father as a person. That further informed his understanding of the Sisyphean undertaking it was for my father to create his work.

This book is somewhat analogous to a documentary movie for your brain. The details that unfold are sourced from authentic recordings of interviews over a period of more than twenty years. Whether my father is expressing his views of religion and politics as well his opinions of their ill-advised enmeshment or his bleak opinion about some of his former employees playing his music in public, he gives it to you straight. Well, he gave it straight to Co, and now he’s giving it to you! There are many things waiting to be uncovered by you during your exploration of this book.

For example, did you know that some of you consume music improperly? My father has thoughtfully described the existing problem, “The main way of consuming it is you don’t listen to it— You dress up to it. The music reinforces your wardrobe. And so, by the music being like this, it gives people the chance to act out this fantasy of how modern they think they are.”

What about other practical advice from my father? How about an idea called NEST, which stands for National Emergency Security Trust. He developed the idea back in the ’80s but unfortunately, it was not implemented. “Yeah, you start with a trust fund where all the people who advertise in the United States would put in one percent of their yearly advertising budget and if you started the fund off with that amount of money you could probably begin with a billion, a billion and a half dollars in the fund. And when there is an emergency someplace, the idea is that Congress always takes too long to appropriate the money, but the emergency fund would put the money out and Congress would in its time reimburse the fund, and of course the fund is gathering interest when it’s not being used.”

You’ll also find succinct explanations of world events through his theological filter such as this:

“Most of the world is endangered today, there are only certain places where people have comfortable lives, and everyplace else there’s nothing but imminent danger and death and destruction and pestilence and just horrible stuff going on. Well, who can we blame for that? Because if you blame the Devil then you have to think that the Devil is more powerful than that guy on the cloud. If the guy on the cloud is the boss, he’s the boss, he is making it happen. So what does he think? I don’t know. If he likes what he has created as it is said at one point, he was satisfied with what he built, then I am sure he is delighted. He is probably doing a little breakdancing up there.”

Some people that like my father and his music are considered to be unusual. If you’re reading this book you’re probably one of them. When you see Co, thank him in person for keeping the unusual music we love accessible on the airwaves.

- Dweezil Zappa

Prelude to the afternoon of writing a book

IT’S FEBRUARY 26th, 1979. I’m sitting in Frank Zappa’s room in the Amstel Hotel in Amsterdam.

Next to Frank sits a large cassette recorder, with a suitcase full of cassette tapes and a two-liter thermos of coffee.

Frank used to start his concerts with an amiable “Hello there!” I tell him that would be an appropriate title, if I were ever to write a book about him. I suggest that he should design the cover, as a sign of approval. He laughs, grabs my pen and paper, and writes:

Hello There/Frank Zappa/by Co de Kloet Jr. (A Personal Fantasy).

Apparently, that “sign of approval” wouldn’t be as easy to come by as I’d thought. That alone is reason enough to limit this book to actual quotes and conversations recorded, as it were, on the record. The “personal fantasy” elements are my memories of experiences with Frank. Fortunately I have an eidetic memory, and with every experience with Frank being an event unto itself, the memories are more or less self-refreshing.

It’s October 31st, 2009. Halloween.

I’m in a car with George Duke, driving past Amsterdam’s Concertgebouw. We’re working together on a production with the Metropole Orkest, featuring George and Napoleon Murphy Brock.

I tell George that it was in that building, on September 9th, 1973, that I first saw Frank Zappa and The Mothers of Invention perform live. Of course, George was in the band! Wide-eyed, he tells me that—despite his long history of working in Zappa’s bands—there’s only one Zappa poster in his home studio: a promo for that exact same concert. He promises me that he’ll make a scan of it when he gets home and send it to me. That poster, that day, that concert—it was the start of a musical journey that continues to this day.

1973

Take-off on radio

RADIO STATIONS were already a familiar scene for me in 1973. As a kid, I’d accompany my father (my namesake—he’d produced the first pop music program on Dutch public radio) to the VARA broadcasting complex on Heuvellaan in Hilversum. When I was about ten years old, I played in a youth radio orchestra called De Muzikantenclub. I was invited also to work as an interviewer on various programs for school radio. Every time I was there, I felt a sense of magic in those long corridors, the weird doors with strange little round windows, the reel-to-reel machines and microphones. And then there were the colorful characters—the programmers, the musicians, the actors, the bohemians—people from all walks of life, all forms of worship, both religious and sexual: the tone-setters who made this media world so magnetic and special.

One of the programs my father produced was called Z.O.: an initialism for Zaterdagochtend or “Saturday Morning.” I was fourteen in August 1973. For my very first foray into radio, I joined the show’s presenters, Herman Stok and Letty Kosterman, to talk about my idol Frank Zappa, who had an upcoming performance in Amsterdam’s Concertgebouw a few weeks later. My recollection of what I said is blurry, but I remember that I was allowed to play a few tunes, so I chose “Mr. Green Genes” and “Uncle Meat.” I was rewarded for my appearance with two tickets to the show, and so it was that on September 9th, 1973 I was sitting in the main hall of the Concertgebouw and saw Frank Zappa and The Mothers of Invention for the first time. One of the band members that day was a pianist with whom I went on to work as a radio producer years later: George Duke. More on that follows later in this book.

I’d been turned on to FZ by Tessel Blok, a girl in first grade with me (who went on to work in radio also). Through her father, she’d discovered an album by The Mothers of Invention called Freak Out. I recognized the title—my father had the same album. I went home, put it on, and experienced what so many experience when they first hear it: my musical perception was completely changed forever. I was already quite fanatical by then about playing the recorder (and later, saxophone). I loved baroque and “normal” pop music, and frequently heard music by Sinatra and similar artists at home. In spite of this solid foundation, I still felt like I’d been thrown into the deep end —especially when I first heard 200 Motels, my second Zappa album. The tone had been set.

Herman Stok, the host of my father’s Z.O. show, lived with his partner Kees van Maasdam in a magnificent house at Prinsengracht 714, on one of Amsterdam’s historical canals. He ran his company Popstudio from the basement. It was a small space, bursting at the seams with LPs, all organized by alphabet. It contained also a handsome stereo installation and a state-of-the-art four-channel headset. My parents and I were frequent visitors, and during those visits I would be dumped (not entirely against my wishes) in the basement, where I’d spend hours on end playing albums. More often than not, it was Zappa that I listened to. It was on that headset that I first heard “Billy The Mountain.” All the Zappa albums were in mint condition, as I was the only one who ever played them. One day, my “uncles” told me it would best if I took the LPs home with me—it would clear out some much-needed room in the basement. In a single afternoon, I acquired a complete FZ collection.

So that’s how something began, back in 1973, that would become a cornerstone of my professional life: I professed my love for Frank Zappa’s music (even though I didn’t completely understand it) on the radio. What I couldn’t possibly have foreseen was that I’d get the opportunity, just a few short years later, to shake his hand—catalyzing a personal and professional friendship with my hero.

1974

Gaining status in high school

IN HIGH SCHOOL in Hilversum, I was interested in learning English mostly to better understand the lyrics to the songs on all the albums I was listening to at home. A “progressive” bookstore in Hilversum sold illegal books full of lyrics, sloppily thrown together and full of typos (as well as misheard lyrics, as I later discovered). They also had some Zappa books. Even with all the mistakes, they gave me something to study and collect. I knew about two special documentaries made by Roelof Kiers for broadcaster VPRO. The first had been recorded in Zappa’s home and on his U.S. tour, and the second was filmed at Pinewood Studios in England while Zappa was recording 200 Motels, a movie that was casting more and more of a spell on me. Although I’d unfortunately missed the original broadcast, a very kind lady at VPRO (whose name I’ve regrettably forgotten) arranged for me to visit one of the broadcasting station’s villas (one of several located on ’s-Gravelandseweg in Hilversum) one day after school. Seated at an actual editing table with a small screen, I got to watch both documentaries. There I sat, by myself, watching two films that would leave an indelible impression on me—even if most of the actual subject matter went over my head. I saw Zappa working on scores, Flo & Eddie in top form, and Frank confessing how much he loved to share his bed with ladies on tour. I watched the now-infamous scene from his house where he places the nozzle of a vacuum cleaner (while it’s still running) over his nipples, and then over Miss Lucy’s, of the GTOs. Then he shoves the vacuum between her legs, declaring, “It also works on pie.” Lucy catches her breath enough to reply, “It does!” Fascinating television for young and old alike—and in fact it led to questions in Dutch parliament about the “adult” nature of the films, and VPRO found itself in hot water for a while.

Controversy notwithstanding, the documentaries helped to establish Zappa’s name as a permanent fixture in the Dutch television landscape. I was captivated by this whole new world, and a lot of that had to do with the concept of “freedom.”

1975

Collecting

I STARTED to collect everything I could lay my hands on, and spent a good portion of my modest means on bootlegs, scored from stores along Utrecht’s Oude Gracht canal. I still have one of those LPs: a green vinyl concert recording called Zubin and The Jets, featuring the Los Angeles Philharmonic with Zubin Mehta at the helm and a few of the Mothers. Most of the material would later be reused on 200 Motels. In the hall at that show were two singers who formed the group The Turtles: Mark Volman and Howard Kaylan (Kaylan was also related to Zappa’s manager Herb Cohen). Years later, I spoke with Mark and Howard about that night—but that’s another story, which I tell later in the book.

1976

Napoleon

I CAN’T REALLY explain why, but I didn’t see Zappa perform again until 1976. When I did, it was a fantastic concert in Amsterdam’s Jaap Edenhal on March 6th. The band that night again included some people with who I went on to work later: Napoleon Murphy Brock (“Napi”) and Terry Bozzio. Zappa was on guitar, Napi wore a mask, and on bass (from the very first Mothers lineup) was Roy Estrada—who I feel is still an underappreciated musician. I was seventeen by that time, my English was coming along nicely, and I had the night of my life. My father had gotten free tickets, but it wasn’t really his kind of music (he’d rather have gone to see the other Frank perform), so he gave them to me. Since I didn’t have a driver’s license at that age, I went to the concert with a local primary school teacher called Willem Degekamp. After seeing this spectacular performance, I knew I’d never miss another Zappa show in Holland—and I didn’t. I was fortunate enough to see every show from that night right up until May 4th, 1988—Zappa’s final Dutch appearance.

TV guide Varagids ran an announcement: on November 19th, at 10:45 p.m., German TV station ZDF would broadcast a Zappa concert as part of its show Vernissage. In the band were Ruth and George, who were also on stage for the performance I’d seen in 1973. It’s impossible to imagine nowadays, but back then we couldn’t receive German television channels in Kortenhoef, the tiny village where I lived, so that evening I got on my bike (with my dinky little cassette recorder and a handheld microphone) and rode over to my grandparents’ house in Hilversum. I parked myself in front of the screen of their enormous television that received German channels, dangled my mic in front of the speaker, and sat down to enjoy both the amazing show and Bruce Bickford’s wonderful claymations. That KCET TV special has held a special place in my heart ever since. George Duke told me later that Herb Cohen still had hours of unused material from the show—I have no idea where that material is now.

I have many fond memories of this time. I ended up cultivating an enduring professional and personal relationship with Napoleon Murphy Brock. I consider his concerts with the Metropole Orkest, and especially the 2009 show with George Duke, to be some of my best work.

1977

The first interview

1977 WAS A pivotal year. Zappa was playing in Holland, I was eighteen and about to graduate from high school. I’d built up a reputation already among my friends as the great Zappa ambassador. My record collection was growing all the time, thanks to his absurdly prolific output, and through Frank I’d discovered other music also, for example the orchestral works of Edgard Varèse. Frank too had his idols, he too was an ambassador.

I had a dream, one that I shared with so many fans: I wanted to meet Zappa in person and interview him. Easier said than done: by that point, Zappa had been hiring bodyguards for years, and it was around this point in his career that he became genuinely busy. He’d abandoned the name “Mothers of Invention,” even “Mothers,” and the band now simply went by the name “ZAPPA.” He’d fired his manager Herb Cohen and was wrapped up in a series of lawsuits with his record label Warner Bros.

In Holland, his records were distributed by WEA, whose Head of Promotion was Jan Bult—a legendary figure in the Dutch media land of Hilversum, who passed away too soon. My father knew Jan, and WEA boss Henk Penseel. Through them, I managed to wrangle a brief moment to talk with Frank. I was ridiculously excited, of course, but in fact too young and inexperienced to know what to do with the precious time I’d been allotted. I boarded the train on February 4th anyway, and “signed in” at the Pulitzer Hotel in Amsterdam. Jan told me that Frank wasn’t there yet, and that I’d have to wait in the bar. It took forever (or maybe it just seemed that way), and I wandered out of the bar and took a seat in the lobby, by the elevator. Soon, a group of men passed me to take the elevator, and I recognized drummer Terry Bozzio and bass player Patrick O’Hearn. They were followed shortly afterwards by a pair who I didn’t recognize, but who immediately picked up on my fandom. They were part of the crew: Coy Featherstone and Tex Abel. By then I was doubting whether I’d ever get my Zappa interview, so I asked if I could interview them in the meantime. They agreed, and I went to their hotel room and recorded a short conversation.

Afterwards, I went back downstairs to the empty lobby and sat down again to wait. There wasn’t a soul in sight—suddenly a man was standing next to me, waiting for the elevator. His hair was drawn into a tight ponytail (no curls), his face was shaved except for a small imperial moustache and goatee, and he was wearing a designer jacket, and he had a briefcase in his right hand. He fixed me with a glare, his eyes clearly saying, “Who are you, what are you doing here, and where is my bodyguard?” It was just me and my idol alone in a room, and all I could manage to say was, “Are you Frank Zappa?” What a stupid thing to say—if there was one question I could have answered myself, it was that. He smiled and replied, “I sure am.” The elevator doors opened, he disappeared, and I called after him, “See you later!”

Half an hour passed. Jan Bult appeared and told me to follow him. We went to a room where Zappa was already being interviewed by a lady named Brenda. There were pictures being taken and I joined in—Jan said it was fine. Everyone left and Jan said to Frank, “This is Co, he’s a friend of mine. His father is a radio producer and Co’s a huge fan. He’d like to tape a short interview.” Zappa fixed me with that glare again, and said, “Really? And you still had to ask whether or not it was me when you saw me in the lobby?” Then he broke into a grin and shook my hand, and with that I’d learned a valuable lesson: don’t fuck up when dealing with this man. “You were just being careful, huh?”

The following are a few excerpts from that first taped conversation with FZ.

JB(Jan Bult/Warner Bros.) The last thing we do is, we’ll have dinner. At your request dinner will be ready in the restaurant when we get there.

FZWhat time is it now?

CdKTen past six.

JBIn thirty-five minutes from now we’ll have the car ready. Tonight, you have one more journalist coming and one radio guy. And then you have the photo session with Claude, who sends his regards.

“Claude” was Claude Vanheye, who has since become a close friend of mine, and we’ve worked together on numerous projects. That day, he made a portrait of Frank that would go on to become quite famous: Frank is smoking—no surprise there— and wearing a white shirt that George Harrison had worn in a shoot with Claude earlier that month. This was Frank’s last photo session with Claude: their relationship was complicated by the fact that Claude’s representative in California was Herb Cohen. At the time, Frank and Herb were embroiled in a lawsuit, and Frank’s relationship with Warner Bros. was best illustrated by the slides Frank showed on stage—and, of course, by the T-shirts he sold with the message “Warner Bros sucks!” In terms of Frank’s Dutch friends, I “took up the baton” from Claude, in a sense. It would be wonderful to have a “Frank and Claude” book, because the splendid photos that Claude took deserve a publication all of their own.

I met Claude again in 2011, during a project I was producing with Todd Rundgren. At the time, I wasn’t aware that this little piece of recording from 1977 would be so prophetic.

CdKThe name you chose for your new group is just “Zappa.”

FZYes—like Montrose.

CdKIs there a special reason for it?

FZYes, it’s easier to remember.

CdKIs it?

FZYou’ll always think of the guy sitting on a toilet.

CdKWas that a commercial joke?

FZActually, it was an accident. It was designed to be a picture to go with an article in the International Times, you remember, that magazine from England? And it was supposed to be used as publicity for our first concert in 1967. But the photographer who took it made a poster and sold it for his own profit, and that poster was bootlegged all over Europe and then eventually went into the United States, and millions of them were sold and I couldn’t stop him from doing it.

CdKYou couldn’t?

FZNo, because in London the photographic copyright laws are different than in the United States. If somebody takes your picture in the U.S. they can’t make commercial use out of it without your permission. But in England, if somebody takes your picture, the photographer owns it and he can do what he wants with.

CdKWhen you look at pictures of yourself doing projects with quite large orchestras, like Lumpy Gravy or 200 Motels, you always seem to be quite happy. Do you like working with big orchestras, and if you do—?

FZWell, the process of working with an orchestra is very exasperating because orchestras hate music. People in orchestras do not like music, they only like money and they only like their pensions. They couldn’t give a fuck about your music, doesn’t make any difference whose music it is, they hate music. It’s a job, it’s just like going in there to saw a piece of wood when they’re playing their violins.

CdKAre they terrible to work with?

FZYeah, except for one thing. I happen to like the way orchestras sound. And I am crazy enough to put up with that other bullshit just so I can hear something that I write for an instrumental combination. It’s more fun to play with a small group that likes what they’re doing than to work with the biggest orchestra in the world that’s sitting there waiting to collect their pension and take their union break.

Later that afternoon I saw a completely different side to Zappa. Jan Bult wanted to see if he could sell the TV special that Frank had recorded in L.A. (the same KCET special that I’d seen on German television) sliced up in short segments. This triggered Frank’s increasing irritation with Warner Bros., while my little tape recorder was still running.

JBThere’s one question I would like to ask you. There’s a video with animation in it, a beautiful show and I’d like to sell it to Dutch TV. Claude Knobs gives you his regards, he serviced me with a Sony cassette of it, but the thing is we don’t have any pop programs that run that long. If I could give you the time that it should run, could you edit it down yourself?

FZNo.

JBNo way of editing it?

FZNo way, I will not cut it down.

JBOK

FZFirst of all, it’s not a pop program. It’s a piece of video art! And it shouldn’t be judged as a pop program, a pop program is something—

JBBut it’s not up to me to judge that.

FZBut that’s—If I was going to sell it to the television station, I would have to explain it to them that way. Just because I’m working in pop music doesn’t mean anything in regard to that show, because the music in it isn’t especially pop and the video effects that are in it are on a very high artistic level. It’s a beautiful show.

JBIt is!

FZAnd when it was shown in France the people went crazy over it.

JBI know, but the thing is, in our television situation it’s very hard to fit it in.

FZWell, what can I say?

Long silence. Frank indicated that I could proceed.

CdKWhy was “Black Napkins” censored in, uhm…

FZCanada?

CdKYeah.

FZBecause the guy that put the—You know how they censor, they took a piece of paper tape and put it on the record, and they just covered up “Black Napkins” and “The Torture Never Stops.”

CdKAnd they didn’t give you any reason?

FZWell, they thought that the screams on “The Torture Never Stops” would arouse Canadians to, uhm—

CdKCanadians get aroused by that?

FZYeah, to unwanted heights of passion!

CdKAnd are you allowed to play numbers that have been censored on records, can you play them wherever you like in Canada?

FZYou mean on the stage?

CdKYeah.

FZOf course I play them on the stage. Not only that, we have a tape of the screams from “The Torture Never Stops” that we use in the concert. It’s the second song in the show.

A few hours after my interview, FZ was in the studio with Claude!

After my meeting with Frank, I was in the elevator with Terry Bozzio and Patrick O’Hearn. Talking about Bozzio, Frank had just told me, “The fact that he is cute doesn’t mean he can’t play!” I used those exact words (albeit in a different order) in the liner notes to my 2003 CD production with Terry and the Metropole Orkest, conducted by Dick Bakker. The album came out on Favored Nations/NPS OUTPUT, a collaboration between the NPS and Steve Vai’s label.

So there it was. I’d met my hero. I had the tapes and the photos. It was another step in what was to become a long journey. The concert the next day was phenomenal, and the last time Frank ever played the Jaap Edenhal. In fact, it was the last time Zappa ever performed in Amsterdam.

1978

Fuck you, Captain Tom!

FEBRUARY 13TH: After Amsterdam, Zappa was back in Rotterdam’s Ahoy venue.

The city was blanketed in snow. We were in my uncle’s DAF— the car got a flat tire right outside Ahoy, and we missed the first five minutes of the show.

A shirtless Frank appeared onstage. He still believed that “Ahoy is the stupidest name for a concrete building.” The band was unbelievable, and he introduced us all to his latest discovery: Adrian Belew. I was surprised to see Belew back in Ahoy a few months later, this time featuring on guitar for David Bowie. Brian Eno later told me that he and Bowie were in the audience that fateful night in Berlin. They hated the show, but Adrian’s performance blew them away. Only Adrian knows what really went down, but there’s an infamous quote by Zappa, allegedly speaking to Bowie in a restaurant or nightclub in Berlin that they both happened to be surreptitiously visiting at the same time: “Fuck you, Captain Tom!”

1979

Olive?

ZAPPA WAS with CBS by now. Their promotion department had an office in Hilversum, and I was doing a lot of freelance work for the radio. I got an invitation to a press conference on February 26th, in the gorgeous room at the top of the Okura Hotel in Amsterdam. This time, I had a real Nagra instead of my dinky cassette recorder. The room was full of journalists, photographers, and booze. Zappa came in, and someone offered him a drink. He asked for a coffee, but no one had considered that possibility, so one of the CBS guys was sent off to fetch Frank’s favorite drink. So much for doing their research. The press conference, scheduled to discuss a few items but mainly to promote the release of the Sheik Yerbouti album, was a disaster: the questions were stupid, Frank was bored, and several awkward silences fell. I was sitting next to Frank, and he knew I was a big fan. He asked me why I wasn’t asking any questions, and without thinking I gave the best possible answer: that I was there, unpaid and on my own time, to record him for my radio show—but that my show wouldn’t be broadcast for a few more weeks. I explained that I didn’t want to see his answers to my questions published the next day by journalists who couldn’t be bothered to do their homework. Not very supportive of my fellow journalists, perhaps—but it was true. He smiled, and said, “Come to my hotel later and we’ll record it. I can also play you some new tapes with my ghetto blaster.” He told me that his whole band was going to Amsterdam’s Carré theater to see the Jacksons perform, and that he was “of course not going. I’m only here to make music!”

In a nutshell, the press conference went like this:

GirlFrank, you want an olive?

FZNo thanks, I had one yesterday. It was really exciting.

CdKThere have been titles, I think it was in the Melody Maker, and one of them was Zappa Orchestral Favorites, another one was Martian Love Games. Can you tell us what happened to those titles?

FZYeah, an album called Zappa Orchestral Favorites is still in the possession of Warner Bros., although they haven’t paid me for the tapes. Nor have they paid for the tapes of Studio Tan, Sleep Dirt, or Zappa In New York. I delivered these tapes to them as finished albums in order to conclude my contract with them. And they didn’t pay me for them and so there is a lawsuit filed over that, and they still have the tapes for Zappa Orchestral Favorites and that probably will be released the next time I release another album on CBS. Just like they released this Sleep Dirt album at the same time as Sheik Yerbouti.

CdKIs it true that the song on Sleep Dirt, “Filthy Habits,” was originally planned for Zoot Allures?

FZYeah, and also “The Ocean Is The Ultimate Solution.” Both of those things—in fact all the material on that album was recorded between ’74 and ’76.

CdKCan you give us more specific details about the personnel on that?

FZYeah, “Filthy Habits” is me on guitar, Terry Bozzio on drums, and Dave Parlato on bass, and I am doing all the keyboard overdubs and stuff. And “The Ocean Is The Ultimate Solution” is Bozzio on drums, Patrick O’Hearn on bass, and me on guitar. And “Regyptian Strut” is Chester Thompson on drums, Bird Legs Youman on bass, Ruth Underwood on percussion, George Duke on keyboards, and Bruce Fowler playing all the horns and stuff. And I am also playing percussion. And on “Spider Of Destiny” and “Flambay” and that stuff, it is Ruth and George and Chester and Patrick O’Hearn, overdubbed bass.

CdKIs Warner still in possession of the Martian Love Games tapes?

FZNo, no, Martian Love Secrets was the original title for the Sheik Yerbouti album. I changed the name of the title when they took that picture because I thought that would be a better title for it.

CdKWas the name “Sheik Yerbouti” something that you made before or did you do it after seeing the picture?

FZWell, I made the name up a long time ago, and when they took that picture and I saw the way it came out, I thought, “That’s what’s gonna be on it.”

One of the awkward silences was broken by a rather grim interaction between Frank and one of the journalists, who was making a big deal out of the fact that Frank’s new vocalist singer Ike Willis was taking over the parts originally sung on the album by Napoleon Murphy Brock. The general argument was that, in the journalist’s eyes, Willis was a poor imitation of Brock. After FZ put him down sternly, and defended Willis, it seemed the perfect moment to ask about Zappa’s song “Packard Goose.”

CdKIs it true you made a song about rock ‘n’ roll journalists?

FZYeah.

JournalistLike so many other rock ‘n’ roll stars.

FZHuh?

JournalistLike so many other rock ‘n’ roll stars!

FZWell, it’s a good thing to do, you know. It’s nice to commemorate them. Because the only other way a rock ‘n’ roll journalist has of being famous is to dress weird, form a group himself, or herself. It’s pretty difficult to distinguish yourself with a typewriter, you know. So, it’s better just to be an asshole and wait for a group to write a song about you.

Understandably, the silences grew longer and more awkward after that.

And then the press conference was over. Frank said, “See you in the Amstel Hotel.” I asked if I could bring a friend (guitarist Jos Houniet), and Frank replied, “Sure!”

I announced myself at the hotel that evening, and Jos and I were escorted in by Frank’s bodyguard (not Smothers, he was sick). We poured ourselves some coffee and got to talking.

I was making a program for broadcasting station VARA at the time, working for Willem van Beusekom. We kicked off with a station call.

CdKThat will be fine.

FZOK… Hello, this is Frank Zappa talking to you on ElpeeTuin.

CdKGreat! Well a question that is asked by listeners as well is, “Why do you never or almost never use the Stratocaster… Fender when you are on stage?”

FZI have two guitars on stage in case I break a string and it’s a different playing style to use a Stratocaster and I’ll use it—

[Tape check]

CdKHello, that’s OK

CdKYou’ve said in interviews that you like particular guitar players in the past, like Johnny “Guitar” Watson on some records.

FZMm-hmm.

CdKDo you have any new likes in guitar playing nowadays?

FZWell, I’ve heard a few things that I liked. I like some of the stuff that Brian May plays, and I like… Who’s the guy that plays with ZZ Top? I like that way he sounds.

CdKMm-hmm?

FZThat’s about it. Oh, there’s a jazz musician I think is good, what was his name…? Pat Martino.

CdKAnd another item that you talk a lot about in interviews is cynicism, being cynical.

FZMm-hmm?

CdKMost people would say that you are very cynical in your lyrics, and the very frequent answer that you give is that being cynical is the only way to survive.

FZWell, I think that cynicism is a positive value, and if you think that it’s not then that’s your misfortune. I think that being cynical is the only rational behavior.

CdKYeah. You also said in a Dutch interview that politics, religion, and items like that is not something that you discuss in public. You still have that opinion? Or—?

FZWell, I’ll talk about them if I have to, but I always think that it’s boring.

CdKYou just still believe—as you said early in interviews in the ’60s and beginning of the ’70s, that you still believe in personal freedom?

FZI believe that personal freedom starts at home, that is to say if you want to be free it starts inside of you. It’s not something that somebody legislates.

CdKMm-hmm… And the subjects on the new album, Sheik Yerbouti, they’re all still very English-orientated. I mean, “Flakes” is very personal experience-like.

FZMm-hmm.

CdKAnd on other albums you have more things that are more abstract or just made up. And this is, again, real, everyday life. Do you intend to do that more frequently in the future, or what?

FZNo, I’ll do whatever I feel like.

CdKMm-hmm, is that what you always do?

FZYeah.

CdKDo you think that—could you tell us about your coming events on CBS or another record company?

FZWell—

CdKTitles or what?

FZWhat, you mean the name of the next album and stuff like that?

CdKYeah.

FZI could tell you, but I’m not going to.

CdKIs that because you feel like it? Or is it—?

FZIt’s because you should pay attention to this record and don’t worry about the next one.

CdKMm-hmm! Did you, the recording and the mixing, was that done in America?

FZYes, the mixing was done in America.

CdKAnd the live tapes that you used were only from the Hammersmith Odeon and some of—?

FZNo, there’s a couple from New York City and two from the Deutschlandhalle in Berlin, and another one from a hall just outside of Nuremberg, and the rest of them are from the Odeon Hammersmith.

CdKYou did an English tour last month or this month.

FZYeah.

CdKThat was through England or was it mainly London?

FZNo, it was through England.

CdKAnd how did the English…?

FZHow did they respond? They responded like English people.

CdKHow is that?

FZWell, English people don’t respond. You know, they just kind of sit there. Except for the last audience at the Odeon Hammersmith. They got quite excited. And we also recorded there again.

CdKAgain?

FZYeah, and we’re also recording here in Holland. We’re recording all these concerts.

CdKYou’re recording everything you do?

FZYeah.

CdKAnd the big guitar pieces now, from every concert, like “Rat Tomago”?

FZYeah.

CdKAnd the piece “Yo Mama”?

FZYeah.

CdKNow, I think you just pick the good one from all the concerts and you then put it on the record if you can use it, of course.

FZYeah.

CdKThat is so?

FZYeah, I mean, there are other ones that are better than that, but they weren’t done with that band. I tried to keep only the things that were done with that band. Because there are a lot better ones now that I have on tape.

CdKI think the last one you did in Rotterdam last year—

FZYeah.

CdKWas very good in “Yo Mama.”

FZOh yeah?

CdKExcellent, yeah.

FZI listened to the cassette of it and I don’t think that it was as good as the one from Neuenkirchen.

CdKNo?

FZNo. Well, it was OK, but not as good as that other one.

CdKYou told us last year, on stage, that you had some nasty experiences with the direction of the Ahoy Hall. You know, they forced you to have an intermission and stuff like that. How much does that effect your behavior on stage? How much do you worry?

FZI don’t worry about it, but it interrupts the show. The show is designed to be played straight through, and so at the end of the show there’s a certain experience that you have from that.

CdKMm-hmm?

FZBut if you have to stop it in the middle, and everybody goes out and gets their popcorn, or whatever, and they come back, then you have to start building the show all over again and it interferes with my structure.

CdKAnd tomorrow night, is there another break in there?

FZProbably.

CdKYou don’t know yet?

FZDon’t know yet.

CdKIt’s not planned?

FZNo.

CdKYou have a show that’s designed again for playing straight through?

FZWell, that’s the way we always do it. It’s always straight through.

CdKYeah, in some shows you have, if you look at the overall buildup of a show, some shows have a very strong comic character.

FZMm-hmm.

CdKLike you did in ’76, and ’77, with the poodle kind of thing and all that. And then again you come back with long instrumental phrases. What do you think the overall buildup will be tomorrow night?

FZWell, the structure of this show is basically vocals. There’s very little talking to the audience. There is very little instrumental music, because the only solos in the main part of the show are the guitar solos that I play and then one solo that Denny plays.

CdKYeah?

FZAnd other than that it’s all vocals and it’s mostly songs that people are familiar with. If they know the albums then they’ll know these songs. And then about thirty to forty percent of the show is stuff that hasn’t been recorded yet.

CdKSomething that always shows up again is that many people who are really fond of your music and listen to it quite a lot and have all your albums and all that… most of the time also like the albums of David Bowie. Do you find any stage appearance—things that you have in common with him? I mean, what do you think in general about his way of making music?

FZI don’t know anything about it. I’ve only seen him live one time, and I only stayed for about fifteen minutes. The only records I ever heard of his were singles that were played on the radio.

CdKYou’re not really, uh…?

FZNo.

CdKYou don’t really know his stuff? Your guitar player that you had with you last year went to him.

FZYeah.

CdKDid he leave your group for that or had you finished the tour by that time?

FZHe went directly to work for Bowie as soon as our tour was done because Bowie offered him twice as much money. Simple American arithmetic.

CdKIs Belew an American, by the way?

FZYeah.

CdKThere have also been letters sent to me and to others at events from a guy in, I believe it was London, who says that there is a very heavy story behind the inside cover of your Live in New York album. He says that there is some sort of religious message behind that. I mean, do you put things like that in your covers?

FZAbsolutely not. Don’t believe anything an English person tells you, and especially anything an English person tells you about me.

CdKThey have a very characteristic and own way of responding to your—everything you do.

FZWhat, the English?

CdKYeah.

FZYeah they do, they are really specialized.

CdKYou called them once “the most eccentric, the only real eccentric people that there is.”

FZNo, I think that I would modify that to say that there are probably a few eccentric people elsewhere in the world, but I think that there’s probably more eccentric people per square foot in that country than any place else. Except for Los Angeles, and the number has gone up in Los Angeles because so many English people have moved there.

CdKWhat we would like to ask you is, the fretless guitar I talked to you about earlier this afternoon.

FZYeah.

CdKWhat type was it?

FZIt was a prototype that was made by, you know the Acoustic amplifier company?

CdKMm-hmm?

FZAt one time they tried to make guitars, and this was a prototype for a fretless guitar that they wanted to manufacture. And I found it in a store in Hollywood, I paid seventy-five dollars for it. The guy says, “I’ll sell it to you but you have to take the name off.” You know? Because the company didn’t want anybody to know that—because they didn’t make any more after that, it was never popular, you see. So they took this chisel and scratched the name off the end and I bought it.

CdKThis latest album is very—it has a very direct sound. I mean, the Studio Tan album and the Sleep Dirt album, as for the selection on them, seem just music, but some vocals on this album seem like you are just standing in the room with us and talking to us. For instance, at the end of “Dancin’ Fool,” how do you do that? Is it just very—?

FZWell, one way that—one reason why the Warner Bros. records don’t sound right is because they have the master tapes, but they don’t have the master tones. You know what that is?

CdKNo.

FZA tone is a… Well, when you go to put the tape onto the disc, you have to align the machine that’s playing back the tape to a set of specifications so that the sound coming off of that playback machine onto the disc is correct. And you do this with a piece of tape called the master tones, and they don’t have the master tones. Moreover, I wasn’t there in the disc cutting room at the time that the discs were cut, so I couldn’t supervise it and I couldn’t make it perfect, see? They just took the tapes, didn’t pay me, and made these records out of it. And so they don’t sound as good as the stuff that I spend all my time working on. On the Sheik Yerbouti album, I did everything up to the point where it goes to the factory, I’m with it all the way. When they are putting it on the disc I’m there putting the final touches on it. And that’s why it sounds that way.

CdKThey didn’t pay you for those albums?

FZNo, they haven’t.

CdKNo?

FZNope.

CdKBut there’s still a lawsuit going on isn’t there? That’s what I understood.

FZYes, it’s still going on.

CdKYou’ve also said in interviews when some journalist was talking about you about the Wild Man Fischer things, and the Lenny Bruce tapes—

FZMm-hmm?

CdKThat you are also planning an album about the killing of John F. Kennedy. What ever happened to that?

FZNo, it wasn’t the—it was the killing of Robert Kennedy.

CdKRobert Kennedy.

FZA man came to us with some tapes. He had been making a documentary album about the assassination of Robert Kennedy and he’d interviewed all these people and he put together this really fantastic album. That was when we had the Bizarre label. And the deal with Warner Bros. on the Bizarre label was, we could bring projects to them and they had the right to refuse ’em.

CdKMm-hmm?

FZAnd they heard that and refused it, and that’s why it never came out.

CdKWere they too afraid of—?

FZThey were afraid of it. Yeah.

CdKThe effects it could eventually have?

FZYeah, they wouldn’t touch it.

CdKI think you were sorry about that, weren’t you?

FZWell, I think everybody should have been sorry about it, it was a pretty frightening album. I mean, it’s not something that’s gonna make the hit parade, but it had a lot of interesting things in there that you didn’t know before. But Warners wouldn’t touch it, they wouldn’t distribute it.

CdKI’ve also read that with the Lenny Bruce tapes there would be intermissions between his talking, played by your old Mothers formation.

FZNo, in the Lenny Bruce tapes the original idea that was offered to me in around 1966, when we were recording with MGM, they had some Lenny Bruce tapes and they wanted me to make music to go with the tapes so they could release an album that was Lenny Bruce and The Mothers, you see? And I thought about it and I said, “That man doesn’t need my music to make his ideas go,” so I refused to do it.

CdKYeah, that’s why—And you only brought out one album on your label, only the Berkeley?

FZYeah.

CdKAnd what’s the original title for that? Our Man in Nevada?

FZOur Man in Nirvana.

CdKNirvana?

FZYeah.

CdKOr is that something different?

FZNo, Our Man in Nirvana was the title for the album that they wanted me to do with music.

CdKWith the Mothers…?

FZYeah.

CdKYou still own the name “Mothers” of course, but do you have any intention of using that again?

FZNo.

CdKThat’s finished?

FZThat’s right. That’s for the archives now.

CdKAnd you must have a lot of material recorded in those days. What’s going to happen with that if the Mothers is for the archives now?

FZWell, maybe there’ll be a Mothers archive recording.

CdKBut you’re not intending to do anything with them?

FZNo.

CdKAnd the original nine- or ten-record set that you were going to bring out, were there unreleased items included?

FZOh, it was all unreleased.

CdKIt was all unreleased?

FZYeah. In fact, I have cassettes of some of that stuff here.

CdKBut that’s for later times, isn’t it?

FZYeah, that’s for a later time.

CdKDo you intend to release records on a Zappa Records label? Or is that for other products?

FZWell, the way my contract goes is Zappa Records is for the U.S. and Canada, and the deal with CBS states that the first three must be on a CBS label and then after that they may come out on the Zappa label if I want. It would still be distributed by CBS.

CdKIn Europe?

FZYes.

CdKAnd Phonogram will still take care of it in America?

FZYeah.

CdKYou said at the press conference this afternoon that there won’t be much guitar playing by you tomorrow night. I mean, not as much as we’re used to.

FZWell, it depends on how much you want to hear, you know. The show opens up with me playing guitar, I play for eight to ten minutes, roughly. And then we start the show, I introduce the members of the band, and then we play a series of songs. And about the fifth song I’ll play a short solo, and then there’ll be one more vocal and then on the next song there is a medium-length solo. And there’s two or three more vocals and then there’s a little longer solo, and that’s it.

CdKAnd the other guitar playing is done by the other members of the group?

FZYeah.

CdKHow many guitarists do you have? Three?

FZThree besides me, yeah, total of four. Sometimes I play a solo at the end of the show, it just depends on what the audience wants.

CdKYeah, I think they’ll want.

FZYou think they’ll want?

CdKYeah. You said that to the guy that asked you about your guitar playing, you said, “Do you think there’s any demand for me playing guitar?” and he said, “Well…” And you said there’s a demand for hearing what’s on the record.

FZMm-hmm.

CdKI very much doubt that. I think there is a big demand for you playing guitar, even if it’s something not on the record. I mean, if you saw the reaction of the people with the response last year when you played “Yo Mama” for the first time in Europe, I mean in Holland—

FZWell, I couldn’t tell. I mean, I can’t—

CdKThat they were quite hilarious about that. So do you really believe there’s not a demand?

FZI don’t think that there’s a same kind of demand. I think that maybe you like it, and maybe you like it, and maybe ten other people like it, but most of the people in the audience are there for something else. They want a show. They don’t have the patience to sit there and figure out what I’m doing. You know? And I’m not gonna jump around and do all the rest of the stupid stuff that other guitar players do. If I play, I just want to play my notes and get it over with.

CdKYeah, that’s important of course.

FZYeah, but see, if the show isn’t like a show then a lot of people get bored with it. The largest percentage of the audience—[Jos offers a Marlboro] No thanks… I’ll have this American swill here. The largest percentage of the audience would rather see something that was more like amusement, you know? I mean, I like to play the guitar, I really enjoy doing it. But I don’t want to play the guitar and bore people with it. Because most of them spent a lot of money to buy a ticket and they want to have a good time.

CdKSo you also include quite a vast number of recognizable things in your shows?

FZWell yeah, play a lot of stuff, especially in this show, there is a lot of songs that they’ll recognize.

CdKThe critics I read on the Knebworth festival, but again that is an English reaction, is that they were quite surprised when you had an encore that was a new song. Because they said, “Well, all the old groups played their old favorites and there came Zappa on stage and he played a new song.” I believe it was “Bamboozled by Love” you played as an encore. And they were quite shocked at that, because you didn’t play “Muffin Man” or “Camarillo Brillo” or anything—

FZWe’re trying not to do those songs anymore, you know? I’m tired of doing ’em. I mean, if we’re playing in a place for the first time and somebody requests it, maybe I’ll do it. Just because it’s the first time the people in the city have seen the group, and so if they want to hear it, OK. But all the cities that we’ve come back to year after year, I mean we’ve been playing “Camarillo” and “Muffin Man” and all that stuff for, what, three or four years over here? So we have some different songs for encores now.

CdKThe first thing the members of the group have to play when they are first in your band, is that “Peaches en Regalia” for an audition or anything?

FZNo, the first thing that they play, the auditions that we held this year, the first thing they had to play was this little vamp figure in 21. 21/8. And if they could play that then they got on to the next step, which was I show ’em a piece of music and see if they can read. And if they can read, then they go on to the next step, which is to see whether or not they can sing. And then they go to the next step, which is to see whether or not they got a sense of humor, and then the next step is to find out whether or not, if they’re a rhythm section player, whether they can play a background that’s comfortable for me to play a guitar solo on. And then after they pass those tests, then we try the next person and see how he does, and then we evaluate it like that. But I mean, the criteria for picking somebody to be in the band varies from tour to tour, depending on what kind of material is going to be on that tour.

CdKAbout the Pignose, you use it on “The Torture,” isn’t it?

FZYeah.

CdKHow do you use it? With two microphones in front of it?

FZWhat I did on “The Torture” is I took the Pignose and I put it in the echo chamber, the live echo chamber in the studio, and sent the signal through the echo “send” directly into the Pignose, and then had two microphones in the echo chamber to pick it up.

CdKIt’s a cool thing, the Pignose.

FZYeah, I think so.

CdKI think so. Can we—? Uhm, I see we’re running out of tape. Before it’s too late, can you give a final message to your regular listeners what they can expect, what they cannot expect and—?

FZWell, one thing I’m working on now that may surprise everybody is a guitar album. That’s going to be available by mail order only.

CdKWhere?

FZWell, all over the world, it’s called Shut Up and Play Your Guitar. And all it is is guitar solos. You know, all those tapes from all over the world?

CdKMm-hmm…?

FZWell, I’m throwing the songs away and just keeping the guitar solos, and it’s one guitar solo after another. If you wanna hear me play the guitar—

CdKYou’re serious what you’re telling me?

FZYeah!

CdKYeah?

FZYeah!

CdKSo that’s the response for the demand of your guitar playing?

FZYeah.

CdKYeah?

FZYeah! So you can get it through the mail.

CdKThat’s a very good idea!

FZYeah.

CdKNot on a certain label.

FZI’ll probably put it on NCP.

CdKWhat…?

FZStands for “‘No Commercial Potential.”

[Tape ends]

Thanks to Frank, I learned long ago that there’s no such thing as a coincidence. The whole time I knew him, the strangest things would keep happening. When we spoke at the Amstel Hotel, we discussed the song “Flakes” from Sheik Yerbouti, in which a toilet explodes—you’re not supposed to flush tampons. At precisely that moment, FZ’s bodyguard interrupted us. He had Gail on the phone, Frank’s wife. A few minutes later, Frank came back into the room and announced that he was “pissed off.” Gail had told him about of one of the toilets in their home that was blocked, and it had exploded. It had damaged some irreplaceable pieces of film downstairs. He didn’t stay pissed off for long though (coffee and a cigarette helped), and he played a primitive version of “Dupree’s Paradise” for Jos and me. From a cassette, on a ghetto blaster, next to a two-liter thermos.

Our conversation was interrupted a few times by the telephone. Four times, Frank said, “Not now, I’m talking to a friend.” Right before we left, Frank tore a page out of a notepad, wrote his initials and an address on it, and told me, “At this address, there’s always a cup of coffee waiting for you.”

What? I was invited to Frank Zappa’s home? Yep!

I was walking on air as we returned to the lobby, where we met a man who appeared to be aggrieved for some reason. It turned out to be the Vice President of CBS, who’d wanted to say hello to Frank. He’d called the room four times, and after two hours he finally got his turn.

1980

Working for Zappa

THE YEAR began with a surprise. I knew that FZ would be touring with a new band, and that the tour was scheduled for the spring. VARA had even been talking to Zappa’s management about recording one of the shows for radio.

One afternoon in January, I arrived home to hear the phone ringing. My father answered, and then (laconic as always) informed me, “I have Zappa’s manager on the phone for you.” I dashed to the phone, and in the middle of saying, “Hello, this is Co,” I heard a click and Zappa himself broke in with, “Is this Co? Hey, Co—wanna see a movie?”

As is turned out, he was in Amsterdam for a press screening of Baby Snakes in The Movies on Haarlemmerdijk. I sat down with around thirty others and spent the next three and a half hours watching the partially animated movie. It included footage of a Halloween show from ’77, with the same band as had played Ahoy in ’78—with a bunch of special guests. I was honored to have been invited personally, of course, and I took the opportunity to record another short conversation with FZ, boasting a new, short hairstyle.

CdKI just wrote some short things down. Would you mind speaking a bit in there, because there is very much background noise?

FZOK Hello, hello, hello, hello.

CdKFirst, about the film. I read an interview where it was in the title Baby Snakes – Gas Masks that there was Warner Brothers money in, is that true?

FZNo. The only money that’s in the film is my money.

CdKNo CBS—?

FZNo. I paid for the whole thing myself.

CdKI’ve heard that you are going to do a piece—some pieces with a big orchestra in Holland. Which one is that? And when is it happening?

FZThere is no definite plan to do that and it’s better not to talk about that until there’s a contract.

CdKDo you mind if I talk about Joe’s Garage?

FZSure!

CdKA lot of Zappa listening friends of mine say that the atmosphere of Lumpy Gravy is on the album. How do you feel about it? I mean, it’s—2 and 3 are mostly old songs on there.

FZNo.

CdKI mean, things that you have been doing—?

FZNo, there is only two old songs on 2 and 3. One of them is “Token of My Extreme” and the other is “Stick It Out.”

CdKYou did that in Holland—?

FZYeah.

CdKThere has been a radio broadcast by Carlos Hagen, the producer who broadcasted some of your pre-Mothers work. A piece called “Opus 5.”

FZYeah.

CdKDo you have any plans to bring that period of your career to the attention of the listeners again?

FZNo.

CdKBut there’s very—I mean, how old were you when you did that “Opus 5” concert?

FZAbout twenty, twenty-one.

CdKI mean, it’s hard to find, nowadays, composers who have an output like that by twenty or twenty-one, so it’s very—

FZYup, it’s hard to find ’em, but they’re around.

CdKDo you still write music inspired by that period?

FZNo.

CdKI mean, it was a very hard period for you with the—

FZI don’t write in that style anymore.

CdKNo chamber music?

FZVery little.

CdKThere was some in this film, I mean things you conduct—

FZOh, conducting? Oh yeah. Well if you call that chamber music, sure.

CdKYou’ve talked about, in Dutch papers, about a nine- or ten-record set.

FZYes.

CdKIs that going to be released?

FZNot this year.

CdKNot this year?

FZNo.

CdKBecause the thing that I read is that there is such an album on sale in Australia.

FZNo.

CdKThat is not genuine?

FZNot true.

CdKIt’s called—The title that they gave, probably a bootleg I think, but the title that they gave to it is The History and Collective Improvisations of the Mothers of Invention. Is that the title of the nine-record set you are going to release?

FZYup.

CdKSo that’s a fake.

FZYes.

CdKRecord Review, the magazine, there was a review of Läther. You broadcasted it on the air, somewhere in America—

FZYeah.

CdKI can’t remember where. All the titles that were mentioned are titles that we know. Are those the same versions?

FZSome are the same, some are not.