“What the hell is this,” asked my mother. “It’s disgusting,” she continued in abject terror, “turn it off. NOW. I’m not joking.” From that moment on Captain Beefheart’s Trout Mask Replica was banned in my house.
It’s a common reaction to the atonal, wilfully abstract madness that has yet be matched by anyone in popular music. Forty years on from its release in 1969 it sounds as impenetrable, and intimidating, as it must have done then. Maybe more so.
Upon first listen it is a frightening experience. The guitars clash and fight with every other instrument, melody is a, seemingly, foreign phenomenon. It causes your whole body to squirm and your brain to recoil in horror. The temptation is to shut it off before the opening track ends. This is exactly what I did when I first bought the album aged 19. There I sat perched on the end of my bed wondering what in the name of all that was holy was happening. I remember it vividly, I will never forget it.
It was like opening a door to hell, and immediately slamming it shut before the demons had time to claim your soul. In reality it was far too late for that. It was many months before I dared to climb back onboard the Captain’s demented ship.
It’s a record that will never grow old, or dull, and will yield something previously unheard on the thousandth listen. In short, if forced to pick just one record to take to a desert island it is the only sensible choice.
Despite the physical reaction it causes, and the repulsion it inspires in many people, it was voted at 58 on Rolling Stone’s 500 greatest ever albums. It may very well be the musical equivalent of Stephen Hawking’s book A Brief History Of Time, everybody owns it but nobody has actually read it. It just sits on the shelf daring the cowardly listener to press play. And in the days of vinyl, when the album’s 28 songs were spread over four sides of a record, it must have taken a superhuman feat of willpower to get up and turn the record over three times to get through to the end.
The story of its recording is as terrifying as the music (for the full, disturbing details see Mike Barnes’ excellent biography Captain Beefheart). Don Van Vliet (the Captain’s given name) held his Magic Band captive for nine months in a dilapidated house in Topanga Canyon, California where he subjected them to brainwashing sessions and enforced sleep deprivation, and much more besides.
The music itself may sound like a group of mental patients bashing their instruments against sheet metal but every last note was composed, and to Frank Zappa’s amazement (he produced the album) the musicians played each song exactly the same way, no matter how many takes they did. The polyrhythmic drumming by John 'Drumbo' French is some of the best ever to be committed to record.
They lyrics showcase Van Vliet at the height of his poetic and humorous powers. “A squid eating dough in a polyethylene bag is fast and bulbous, got me,” is just one example. There is an obsession with nature, as the Captain shared an affinity with all things ecological. He showed his green credentials, 40 years before it became fashionable, by hiring a tree surgeon to check on the health of the trees in the garden. It seems he was worried that the strange vituperations emanating from the house might have frightened them.
Like the horrifying image on the cover the music held within will continue to enthral and perplex anyone brave enough to take a second look.
(Aye Aye Captain: Ice Cream For Crow. So, it's not from Trout Mask Replica, but any excuse for a video by the good Captain.)
*For an excellent, concise and entertaining telling of Trout Mask Replica I'd recommend Trout Mask Replica by Kevin Corrier, which is part of the uniformly brilliant 33 1/3 series.
*An exhaustive website for anyone new to Beefheart, as well as die-hard fans, can be found at The Captain Beefheart Radar Station. It's got everything from archived reviews of albums to rare recordings, including a rather good Peel Session from 1968.
*Lastly, on the news front, John 'Drumbo' French, the beleaguered Magic Band drummer, has written a mighthy tome (Beefheart: Through The Eyes Of Magic) about his experiences with Captain Beefheart, including the harrowing abuse he suffered at Van Vliet's hands. Not had chance to read it, and I'm unlikely to for a while, as it's bloody huge and my reading list is unmanageable as it is, thank you very much. Here is a link to a decent interview with the author by the Sunday Times. And reviews I've read in Mojo and Uncut have been very positive.
*Original article published in The Trip
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