1,001 Albums Project #6 — “Trout Mask Replica” by Captain Beefheart (1969)
My father’s got this readymade joke he makes whenever he overhears music I’m listening to that he thinks is “weird”:
He’ll start snapping his fingers like Sinatra and sarcastically say, “I was singin’ this in the shower this morning!” — then I roll my eyes.
Well, he certainly would have had gotten a LOT of mileage out of that joke if I played this album for him. To explain why, I will now commit the forbidden sin of high school english class and quote Wikipedia:
“Trout Mask Replica is the third studio album by American rock band Captain Beefheart and his Magic Band, released as a double album on June 16, 1969 by Straight and Reprise Records, and produced by Beefheart’s childhood friend Frank Zappa. Combining elements of R&B, garage rock, and blues with free jazz, avant-garde approaches, and other genres of American music,[3] the album is regarded as an important work of experimental music and art rock.[4]”
There’s something awe-inspiring about an album that does not appear to give a fuck about what you think.
The overwhelming curiosity and anticipation that comes from not having a clue of what you are about to experience has always been a palpable trait in “experimental music” and performance art alike. There’s a communal factor to it too, which is why I’ve found that live music settings that embody this phenomenon are so fun (and why I wish I were born 15 years earlier so I could have lived and breathed the DC Punk scene in its peak). There’s this indescribable sensation that takes place when you look up on stage, then over at a fellow concert-goer, truly shocked, and both think “did that just happen?”.
This is a quality that transcends every genre imaginable: punk, free jazz, atonal music, that guy who beats the crap out of his snare drum with a microphone(← seriously watch that). These acts all utilize human instruments, but the sounds produced are almost alien. Is enjoying this art form the musical equivalent of looking at a modern painting and being like “…yeah, I… get it…”?
Since the “experimental” and “avant garde” label spans over so many genres, it’s trivial to try to crown a single artist (or work) as the “origin” or “catalyst” of modern experimental music. However, there do appear to be many compositional milestones that have significantly influenced the development of this kind of music. Don Van Vilet (aka Captain Beefheart) manufactured one of these milestones thanks to his masterpiece of an album “Trout Mask Replica”, by masterfully incorporating of elements of free jazz, atonal structures, chance, etc. into the “rock” arena, with the help of his amazing band.
General Reactions
Despite having a fair amount of exposure to a variety of free/experimental music, I must admit that I found this record extremely challenging to listen to at times. I often found myself in a perpetual state of “listener anxiety”; taken aback by the onslaught of chaotic noise, and desperately trying to latch onto any resemblance of organized sound. If a fleeting moment of stable rhythm and tonality did come, my brain rejoiced, causing the same neurons to fire as when I hear the hook to my favorite song. It was trippy.
During this first listen, there was a question that kept persisting in my thoughts: “how much of this chaotic-sounding music was planned, and how much was “ad-lib” or “improvised”? Would anyone be able to tell if someone plays a “wrong note”? From a bit of research, I learned (astonishingly) that almost the entire album was meticulously rehearsed for 8 months in an abusive, cult-like work environment, until the band could play each of these songs the exact same way every time.
While Van Vliet’s detestable methods as a band leader (explained in detail later) are a bit horrifying, his poetry is magnificent. Here’s a quick example:
“It’s not too late for you, it is not too late for me
To find my homeland
Where a man can stand by another man
Without an ego flying
With no man lying
And no one dying by an earthly hand”
One of the “meta art” effects I noticed in this album was the juxtaposition between Van Vliet’s (often) eloquent poetry and his crude delivery; he often grunted it like a wild animal.
The guitar playing also stands out — angular, dissonant, and detached in quality, but more unique than anything; I found that I wanted to slow down each chord down to a soundscape and really live in it; it felt like each chord was its own complex universe, but still they whizzed by my ears like they were nothing. John Frusciante of the Red Hot Chilli Peppers claims that his “…most important inspiration is undoubtedly Zoot Horn Rollo’s playing on Captain Beefheart’s Trout Mask Replica. Saying, ‘If I listen to it first thing in the morning, I’m assured of a day of unbridled creativity.’”
Another thing that shocked me, given the abrasive nature of the sounds on this album, was the universal critical acclaim that this record has received over time. Just look at this:
Either that’s a lot of people pretending to “get it”, or there really is something to this record. Those are *masterpiece* ratings.
My favorite critic review snippet comes from Lester Bangs, who writes:
“[Trout Mask Replica] was not even ‘ahead’ of its time in 1969. Then and now, it stands outside time, trends, fads, hypes, the rise and fall of whole genres…”
I really don’t have much more to say besides I am so floored from listening to this album (and a bit exhausted). I have to listen to it a few more times before I can really form any other kind of opinion, so I may post back later.
One thing I can say with confidence: if you can listen through this album, you can listen through any album. And furthermore, anything you listen to immediately AFTER you listen to this record will (comparatively) sound like the most pristine and polished top 40 song ever recorded, even if it’s not.
Here are some shocking facts I discovered about the creative process of this album:
In preparation (for “Trout Mask Replica”), the group rehearsed Van Vliet’s difficult compositions for eight months, living communally in a small rented house in the suburb
Van Vliet berated [members of the band] continually, sometimes for days, until the musician collapsed in tears or in total submission to Van Vliet.[7]According to John French and Bill Harkleroad these sessions often included physical violence. French described the situation as “cultlike”[8] and a visiting friend said “the environment in that house was positively Manson-esque”.[9]
…the group survived on a bare subsistence diet. French recounted living on no more than a small cup of soybeans a day for a month[10] and at one point band members were arrested for shoplifting food (with Zappa bailing them out).[11]
Band members were restricted from leaving the house and practiced for 14 or more hours a day.
…most of the songs on the album were written in a single eight-hour session with Beefheart incoherently whistling and banging on a piano (of which he had no formal training). Then, the drummer, John French, transcribing parts for all of the band members to learn.
…each song was played in exactly the same way every time, contradicting the improvisation in favor of an approach more like a formal, classical composition.
Instead of singing while monitoring the instrumental tracks over headphones, he heard only the slight sound leakage through the studio window.[23] As a result, the vocals are only vaguely in sync with the instrumental backing;
***side note [The fact that Van Vliet, on one hand, was so strict and abusive toward his musicians in order to get them to play the music “right”, while on the other hand, recording his vocals in this loose and sloppy fashion actually disturbs me quite a bit — but hey, art right?] ***
Cartoonist and writer Matt Groening tells of listening to Trout Mask Replica at the age of 15: “I thought it was the worst thing I’d ever heard. I said to myself, they’re not even trying! It was just a sloppy cacophony. Then I listened to it a couple more times, because I couldn’t believe Frank Zappa could do this to me — and because a double album cost a lot of money. About the third time, I realised they were doing it on purpose; they meant it to sound exactly this way. About the sixth or seventh time, it clicked in, and I thought it was the greatest album I’d ever heard”.[10][37] John Harris of The Guardian later discussed the idea that the album requires several listens to “get it”, concluding it still sounded “awful” after six listens
Of course, there’s a “music industry” layer here. This video of Frank Zappa routinely gets shared on social media to illustrate how much the music industry has changed as far as risk management and the lack of “chances” mainstream labels will take these days. I’ve always appreciated the message communicated, but it’s especially important to consider in the context of this album — what if it never got released?
Would I Listen to This Album Again?
Yes. In fact, I think I have to.
Bonus Album Recommendation
No formal album recommendation this week… but suddenly, the inspiration for Dave King’s side project “The Gang Font” is fairly obvious
Oh and just to reassure you that Captain Beefheart was (probably) not an alien, here’s one of his more “commercial” sounding songs
“Too Much Time” — Captain Beefheart
Next Album on the Docket from “1,001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die”
