ZAPPANALE #19
Wednesday
Well. Well...the
festivities started even earlier for me and my cohorts this year when we
visited Amaretto Mick, who happily escorted us around his home city of Hamburg
and to St Katharinen’s Church where we met many other
friends (including the mighty Gamma) to witness the Bogus Pomp Low Budget
Semi-Acoustic Orchestra. It was truly a wondrous day (saw the sleazy Kaiserkeller and the ‘under construction’ Beatles-Platz) and, as expected, the band played great. But sadly
the acoustics of the bodacious basilica made the sound not so great. Bach
apparently played the church’s organ when he was sixteen and now it’s in need
of some repairs. So it was all in a good cause and we happily boosted the
profits by buying bottles of German beer. A little blasphemious, maybe? Mors! Mors! What you gonna do when the
well runs dry? Well, well. The powerful Pomp’s set got off to a magnificent
start with Blessed Relief – a song that surprisingly we’d hear a number
of times in the next few days. But rather that than a dozen Cosmik Debrises, right? Six Bach pieces
were played solo on the organ by Gabriele Hufnagel,
who played like a bird released on a jazzy improv with BP – one of many
highlights…Overture To A Holiday In Berlin…an instrumental Mom & Dad…Holiday In
Berlin, Full-Blown with Jerry Outlaw playing a masterful solo on an Ovation
worthy of one. And then came snappy Napi to sing The Idiot Bastard Son with updated
lyrics. I’d seen him in the porch minutes before and commented on what a sharp dressed
man he was. Always smiling; always very professional.
Now, if I thought the first set was good, how about a second kicking off with Amnerika and Sleep Dirt – initially I didn’t
realise that the main solo was being played by Rick Olson, as he’d sat behind
his keyboards and was out of view. These pieces were followed by a vibe-piloted
Uncle Meat then Black Napkins. Napi
returned for Oh No! and Uncle Remus, the band were introduced, and they ran through a
great Tom Trapp arranged Absolutely Free Medley. And how about Sofa
and Strictly Genteel for an ending, with Little
House/King Kong as an encore? I couldn’t wait to hear them more
clearly in Bad Doberan. Bwana-ma-coo-bah.
NDR filmed the event and it was supposedly televised the next night. I'd love
to see that on DVD so as to fully appreciate the Bogus
sound.
Thursday
And
so, to Molli-Land. Princess Helen got thrown off the train before we hit
Rostock (wrong ticket), but we were reunited later when she
then had the Amazing Mr Bickerton in tow. While guarding
our baggage outside Lidl’s, I met the crew for a
French documentary now in production examining Frank’s legacy. Nice guys – so
why did I agree to be a talking head for it!? The Fab
3 were taken to the Kamp Theater
‘welcome party’ in an eight-seater built for more.
Magdalena Dave blasted Regyptian Strut
as me and Uncle Ian hid in the boot. Two street bands played (Burnin! Blankets and Tonlast)
and I snuck in to see a bit of Fritz Raus’s
all-German lecture – where me and the dynamic Thomas Reinicke
were told to shush. So I wept in the box office, Dawn. I left when Fritz’s acoustical guitarist started playing some Brooce. The rest of the night is a bit of a blurp, I’m afraid. But I know it was all good fun among
friends, and you don’t need to remember the details. Shiny
happy people, followed by very rapid eye movement. Nuff
said.
Bogus Pomp Low Budget
Semi-Acoustic Orchestra
Friday
There seemed to be
more than ever wasps at the Galopprennbahn this year,
which had Gamma conducting experiments on them. J-Roc got stung on the elby-bone by one of the big man's 'pets'. Great teeth of Cissoko: it’s the Anti-Aggressive Action Band
featuring front man, Stephen Murphy Brock, on teeny weeny
little micro-sax and percussion, Kilissa Gonzalez on
sax and keyboards, outlaw Jerry Kime on guitar,
Professor Alex Griffin on bass, Mark ‘Traps’ Travers on the, er, traps, and special guest Annemarie K. Raymondwhite on violin. They started with a sax mad bit of discordantness, then clattered
into Tell Me You Love Me and a great Chunga’s with
sax, guitar and violin solos. Some funky improv
followed, then 20 Small Cigars, We Are Not Alone and a crowd fully
behind them. Stephen reprised his mad dancing for Electricity (available on last year’s CD) and amended the final
lyrics for Carolina to “It might seem strange to Gail and Dweez: Zappanale hard-core ecstasy.” Ooh no:
cease and desist ye titters, madam. Next up, the cool Wrong Object flew into their klezmer Eat That Question/Honeypump Riff opener and followed up with some by now familiar pieces of
their own (like Wet Weather Wet and Strangler Fig – the latter one of the
five pieces for which Frank’s nephew, Stanley
Jason Zappa, joined them on tenor saxamaphone
with his musical partner, Nick Skrowaczewksi, on
percussion). They also knocked-off the likes of five-Five-FIVE! and Filthy Habits, and their great drummer, Laurent Delchambre,
also got to do an interesting solo during their set. I later spotted
saxophonist Fred Delplancq, but didn’t recognize him
with his shoes on. He too performed a wicked solo during a new TWO piece, the
name of which I didn’t catch (sorry, Michel). The Paul Green School of Rock Music wasted no time in getting special
guest Denny Walley
out for their second number, Willie The Pimp (great li’l bass-boy
on this one). Denny remained on stage
for several numbers (including a storming Moonlight
On Vermont), but had sadly left them for It Just Might Be A One-Shot Deal, which
thus saw one of the kids assume the steel finger (it was rigid and stiff) to
emulate Sneaky Pete’s ace solo. But he was back for City Of Tiny Lites and
Nowadays A Woman's Gotta
Hit A Man.
And then came the big reunion with Napi
for some Advance Romance. I’m not
sure if Napoleon was trying to make a particular point when he gave his sales
pitch for the ZPZ DVD but, ever the pro, backstage he would not be drawn on
questions about a Zappa family rift: "If they pay me, I'll play for them -
that's what I do." And doesn’t he do it well? Backstage, Paul Green kept
making overtures to J-Roc, tenderly kissing him on the back of the neck
whenever he came near. This practice continued and spread over the next few
days. What a love-fest this turned out to be. Indukti from Poland
played next, but I was eager to again see (and hear) Bogus Pomp. And they didn’t disappoint. Playing many of the numbers
performed in Hamburg,
they completely blew my hat off when they skillfully navigated their way
through Sinister Footwear, Mo’s Vacation and Clownz On Velvet. Good God! Still reeling from
the onslaught, I’m sure I heard Electric
Orange unexpectedly take a stab at The
Torture Never Stops and Dirty Love before
retiring. I always thought
Friday would be the best day musically this year, and I don’t think I was
wrong. But there were still some great surprises ahead…
Saturday
The sight of a weasel running around the tents and
under the caravans on Saturday morning was atypical. I assumed it was a family
pet as three folk gave chase after it around the racetrack. But apparently they
just wanted to catch it, like Gamma with his wasps. It would have ripped their
flesh, I'm sure, so just as well they didn't achieve their aim. Panzerballet
were first on stage today and were incredibly tight. I’m sure I heard extracts
from Sleep Dirt, Sinister Footwear, Oh No!, Tiny Lites and
America Drinks, but they pretty much
made them their own and their set was largely complex jazz and metal originals.
Like Paul Green’s joke about the Polish Zappa tribute band. No surrender. Poet,
saxophonist and flautist Elliott Levin
was next on, and this was a different kettle of fish: “free improvised” music,
which actually went somewhere. Elliott toured for many years with Harold Melvin
& The Bluenotes, but more recently showed up on
Don Preston's Akashic
Ensemble’s The Inner Realities Of Evolution CD. A bit of a leap,
then. And what a thoroughly nice chap, when I
got a chance to meet him later. He played in London
just before the festival, so a great shame that I didn’t know beforehand.
Parisian collective, the Delicious Band
Research Kitchen, started with a great piano solo medley that included Village Of The Sun.
Their set wasn’t as ‘mainstream’ as they feared – Evelyn, A Modified Dog followed Dickie’s Such An Asshole – and was muchly enhanced by the star at the centre of our solar
system. Andreas Rausch made a little
speech then…in the Arf tent, on his first-rate Zappaesk comic
book. Such a quiet, dignified soul. Hopefully, with Ms
Pinky’s help, he’ll have it translated into English one day. The Low Budget Research Kitchen from the land
of the golden footed spot-kick missing fool, though, were
the day’s highlight for me. They tend to play long instrumental medleys of
familiar tunes, substantially rearranged. Before Zappanale, drummer Tony Carbone told they told me they needed a female vocalist for
a couple of songs, so I put them in touch with Dr Dot. And it looked like it
was gonna happen until Dot had to pull out from
attending. But she sent her pal, Debutante
Daisy, to be their special guest. She sang I’m The Slime and Montana
and, lo, there was much rejoicing and a beaming Napoleon at the side of the
stage. Next was Ben Watson’s quiz.
He said he’d made it a little simpler this year. Aided by Gamma and daughter
Iris (who recited Lewis Carroll’s Jabberwocky),
I felt an overwhelming urge to enter under an assumed name. The Cosmic Debris Band’s ‘Zappa Circus’ was
kinda odd. They had a large very gentleman and cute
contemporary dance lady on stage with them. The grocer told me what they did
with bread. Very different from how I remember them at #13. I was visiting
God’s mead stall when they played; I felt that would help me better appreciate
Paul Green’s kids playing the music of Yes. It worked – though I managed to
miss Alamaailman Vasarat
completely, who “tore the bloody house down” according to the flightless Robin Jones. Oh, Finland,
Finland,
Finland
- the country where I quite want to be.
Stanley Jason Zappa & The Idiot
Sunday
Having spent first light
snoozing in a caravan with Gamma, I got up for an early morning glory squirt to
be accosted by three young coves from the catering crew saying they needed a
fourth player for a game of table tennis. So there I was at the crack of sparrows
playing wiff-waff backstage with three German punks
listening to The Vibrators. Kind of surreal. Both
matches were close, but I and my partner lost them both. Me
then decamped back to my tent with faithful Uncle Ian, who later recorded my
snores on his mobile. Bastard. UZVA followed a similar path to yesterday’s Panzerballet,
but were a little more my cup of Darjeeling: not so intense and more melodic. From the first
day, the members of Jazzprojekt Hundehagen
were in evidence and are now very much a loved and respected part of Zappanale.
Would they be giving us another surprise like last year – another Mahavishnu set? Guitarist Michael Käckenmeister
told me that that stuff was too hard, but they did start with a McLaughlin
number. They then made that vital transformation and the rest was traditional
Zappa fare (Dirty Love, I’m The Slime, Muffin Man, etc.), which was kind of
unexpected. As was Michael’s Mrs
Mop outfit and the wigs and bathrobes worn by the other members. They certainly
seemed to be having a lot of fun up there. Italy’s Fattore Zeta
followed a similar path to yesterday’s LBRK, hovering somewhere between jazz
and Latin music. With their horns of many colours,
they performed Stolen Moments, Little Umbrellas and (surely a first for
this festival?) Planet Of
My Dreams, which had me bulging at the seams. Jeans for the genies, dresses
for the dreamies, fighting for a place in the front
row: The New Texture Pantonal
Fellowship featuring Stanley Zappa came next, following a similar path to
yesterday’s Elliott Levin. A real reed-blowers convention, oh
my. I had a good chat with Stanley beforehand. He’s a pretty funny guy, who has a day
job at Bovine University. He was talked into attending Zappanale by the
silver tongued Deville from Wrong Object (with whom he guested
on Friday), but was apprehensive about his own set ("hopefully it won't be
one of those situations where it's more rewarding for me than for the musicians
or audience - though I can't imagine how it will be anything but that," he
told Peter van Laarhoven of United Mutations). A
groovy disbeliever, all dressed in white so nobody
sees him. Ben announced the winners of yesterday’s competition after, and first
place was shared by Amaretto Mick Zeuner, Mr Bob Head (all smiles, following his recent Vault visit)
and Joe Schmoe (“WAAAAAAAAH...! That's me! That's me!
Oh...”). Seems Princess Helen’s entry got misplaced. As Mick had retreated back
to the country, it was down to Bob and me to dance-off for first prize. The performance
is poor; watch the audience laugh as my head hits the floor. But happily little
Iris selected ‘Joe’ as the winner (helped by the fact that I’d been playing
with her earlier, no doubt). Bob and I swapped our prizes anywho.
A return to Uncle Frankie with the excellent Finnish Zappa Tribute Band, containing
members of UZVA. A busy day for some of these boys,
who also helped Stanley out. I think this band was the biggest surprise for
most of us, and once again the Arfs gauged a great
‘headline’ band. The set was chock-full of crowd pleasers, performed in such a
way as to bring most to their knees. Then it was the usual ‘goodbye session’,
with as many musicians as possible. And Paul Green asked me and J-Roc to join
in as he wanted about 50 folk singing A Little Green Rosetta. Gad, I didn’t expect him to announce
me and pass me the mike to lead it off though. Rather than inflict my dulcet
tones on the masses, I opted to blow my harmonica for a wee while. Denny jammed
with the still be-skirted Michael Käckenmeister. Mr Green joined in, and it was great fun to be up there –
especially being hugged by Denny and the lovely Janet “the Planet” centre stage
when it was all over. Like a real rock star, I threw my harmonica into the
crowd. The night continued on backstage, but me and
John spent most of it with some Paul Green kids and the proudly obnoxious Blurp! boys out under the stars. Jamming.
Denny Walley and Janet “the Planet” with The
Idiot
Monday
The French film crew
insisted on filming me, couldn’t avoid it. As they had done for the other
interviewees, they asked me to sing some Frank. But like last night, I refused:
Julie Sexburger’s the only one who has to suffer
that. Anyway, I talked rubbish for the camera and you may get to see a snippet
in the eventual DVD, slated for release on the 20th anniversary of FZ’s death. Tents unpitched,
sleeping bags furled, we got a bus into town (only rode Molli
the once this weekend) for a cuppa in the wasp-shop
before making the long journey home. All in all, another marvellous festival – especially musically, I think. Yes, it
was more varied than ever this year. Thanks as always go to my two most
excellent companions, Uncle Ian and Canadian John from London. And of course to all the other friends – both old
and new: the list is getting longer and longer and it’s just too much to
mention them all by name. But they know who they are. And I look forward to
seeing them all again next year (if not before) for the BIG ONE.
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