Frank Zappa: King of Artistic Offence
A composer, producer, director, musician, and artist walk into a restaurant. The host asks, “table for one?” Frank Zappa grins back from beneath his coarse mustache. “Ram it up yer poop chute.”
Okay, so maybe that never happened. But I’d like to think that’s how the Zappa-fied joke would go. Arguably the most eccentric musician of the twentieth century, the late Zappa pushed the envelope with every lyric, winking at the listener through his music. He explored countless genres; most notable were his contributions to rock, alternative-rock, comedy-rock, and jazz-fusion. Turning out an impressive sixty-two albums and another fifty released posthumously, Zappa worked tirelessly writing and performing near-impossible guitar riffs and unique genre fusions extending far beyond the realm of existing music. Arriving on the scene in the mid-sixties and making a name for himself in the seventies, Zappa pioneered the edgy, taboo-filled music we listen to today. His musical expertise was undeniable — but his controversial, racy, and at times offensive lyrics led to pushback and dismissal of his work.
My father, an avid Zappa fan, and I share a similar first experience with Zappa’s music. At fifteen, my dad found his raunchy stanzas hilarious; the first song he heard was “Dinah-Moe Humm,” a song about a woman challenging a man to make her cum. Featuring lyrics like, “got a forty dollar bill say you can’t make me cum,” and, “I whipped off her bloomers ‘n stiffened my thumb/An’ applied rotation on her sugar plum,” the song, like much of Zappa’s music, did not beat around the bush with thinly veiled innuendos. The first lyric that stuck out to me at the age of fifteen, as I listened to Zappa in preparation for a Zappa Plays Zappa concert, was “ram it up yer poop chute,” from the song “Broken Hearts are for Assholes.” Even after listening to some of his discography upwards of a dozen times, I still find myself laughing in amusement or shock — and sometimes both.
Everyone was fair game in Zappa’s mockery. The list of groups he managed to diss in his music is endless; he certainly had a talent for finding communities to insult. Now, in today’s climate of cancel culture, much of his music would land him in deep shit. Pervasive tones of misogyny, homophobia, antisemitism, and many forms of hate are heard throughout his work. Sometimes, I feel like a failed activist for listening to and enjoying his music. Can I ethically listen to his music? Where is the line of separation between art and the artist?
Frank Zappa has made me question my entire stance on ethical consumption of art by proposing a dilemma inverse to my typical experience. He wasn’t a bad guy. His only reign of terror was his demand for musical perfection from himself and collaborating musicians — he never spewed hate speech during interviews or shows (besides his lyrics), he avoided drugs and crime, he was a husband and a father to four children. Only in his music did he ever cause offense.
A compilation album released posthumously, titled Have I Offended Someone?, contains what are thought to be some of his most controversial songs, including “He’s So Gay,” “Titties & Beer,” “Jewish Princess,” and the aforementioned “Dinah-Moe Humm.” Not featured on the album are “Cock Suckers’ Ball,” “G-Spot Tornado,” and “Penis Dimension.” “Titties & Beer” happens to be one of my favorite Zappa songs. The song narrates Zappa arguing with the devil over ownership of a woman named Chrissy and a six-pack of beer, ascribing equivalent yet minimal value to both. But I don’t feel bad listening to it. This is where the distinction lies between Zappa and a vocal misogynist; it’s entirely ironic. Every bit of it is satire. Despite the prodigal expertise exacted in his music, his lyrics were incredibly juvenile, aiming to provoke, and repeatedly enforce his core belief; that censorship was unjust. Some of his lyrics evoke the feeling of being teased by a child. I’m doing this because I can! He just wanted these taboos to be introduced into the public eye, to be discussed, laughed about, made into something enjoyable.
And Zappa succeeded. Though not necessarily the first nor the loudest, he was at the forefront of taboo music. The musician casually disrupted an entire industry, shining a spotlight on America’s ugliest internal thoughts. He sang explicitly about every stereotype imaginable, foisting the onus onto the listener as they heard the satire in their own beliefs. Zappa craved discourse — the only way towards progress was to discuss. In the era of censorship and crumbling classism around art, his music, located squarely at the intersection of art and anti-culture, was a musical embodiment of the century’s preceding avant-garde anti-high-art movement, Dadaism.
While his lyricism paved the path for absurdity within music, his personal success was self-sabotaging. Though Zappa did accrue quite a following and status among alternative music lovers, he never achieved the superstar recognition his talents deserved because of his controversial lyrics. But this was never his goal — Zappa followed his own muse, challenging himself to improve upon his already impressive repertoire. He simultaneously existed too early and too late: too early to be accepted into prudish mainstream music, but any later and political correctness would have eviscerated him. In today’s sociopolitical climate, an explanation of his motives would not have gone over well, coming from a straight white man in a position of power. He was a paradox, his music never quite finding an appropriate home.
Yet I have stood three times, cheering with my father until my voice breaks, in the packed audience of his son Dweezil Zappa’s concerts. Accompanied by an extremely talented band, he performs his father’s music. Scores of devoted Zappa fans wearing faded tour t-shirts from decades past shout along with us, throwing their aging hands up into the peace, love, and rock and roll signs. While Dweezil avoids the most controversial music, he embraces the weird, edgy, complex riffs his father penned. Bringing Frank into the age of cancel culture is difficult to navigate, but his legacy deserves to live on, and does in the hearts and damaged ears of diehard fans. Music, after all, wouldn’t be where it is without pioneers like Frank Zappa. And I believe that justifies indulging in some “Titties & Beer.”
