Todd Rundgren—A Wizard, a True Star

Todd Rundgren—A Wizard, a True Star

"To me, it's the beginning of my real career as a musician. Up until then, I was pretty much following the rules of the game. An album was a collection of singles, and singles were all short, accessible songs that usually were about the opposite sex. 'Something/Anything?' was an attempt for me to get a grip on that. By the time I got to the end of that record, I not only had a grip on it, but I was bored with it." —Todd Rundgren, Cleveland.com, 2009

A Wizard, a True Star—Everything begins and ends in nature. The 1971 earthquake in San Fernando, California took 64 lives and caused $553 million in damage. Philadelphia native Todd Rundgren saw fit to move back east and construct Secret Sound Studio, his follow-up to Something/Anything? already in mind. A Wizard, a True Star was not exactly meant to bitterly destroy his reputation, a la Nirvana's In Utero, but it is a deliberate attempt at artistry over the mainstream. "It was a spoof on becoming a show-biz personality," Rundgren stated. "I think I read it in a review somewhere—'a wizard, a true star'—and it just amused me. It wasn't supposed to be serious," he continued, but in 1973 claimed, "I've always tried to make an album that would frustrate critics to the point that they couldn't review it [...] I'm looking for the true fans. This album really puts people to the test as to whether they are really following what I'm into or not. A lot of people were into my music because they were very self-satisfied by what the music represented to them."¹

Side one, titled "The International Feel (in 8)," delivers on this promise. The opening "International Feel" takes off like a rocket ship, proclaiming, "I only want to see if you'll give up on me." Perhaps knowingly, this leads into a watery cover of "Never Never Land" from Peter Pan, giving new context to "Just keep an open mind [...] You'll have a treasure if you stay there." The suite then turns truly bizarre with the psychedelic "Tic Tic Tic, It Wears Off," the proto-punk "You Need Your Head" and "Rock & Roll Pussy," the nonsensical "Dogfight Giggle," the sweet, slinking "You Don't Have to Camp Around," and the chirping "Flamingo."

"Zen Archer" was foreshadowed by "Song of the Viking," but here is fleshed out into a fully-realized epic. "Just Another Onionhead/Da Da Dali" is either a veiled message on selling out, a quaint fantasy, or both, coupled with a Tin Pan Alley send-up. "When the Shit Hits the Fan/Sunset Blvd." is a love letter of sorts to the Los Angeles that Rundgren left behind; ironically he begins the song with the line, "Earthquake in New York City." He then closes the side with the reprise "Le Feel Internacionale," broadcasting, "Utopia is here," a band whose sound is previewed on this album in some respects.

Side two is comprised of more traditional songs, and is thus labeled, "A True Star." "Sometimes I Don't Know What to Feel" is a more vulnerable take on the "feels" he mentioned in the previous suite. "Does Anybody Love You?" contains the curious line, "Love between the ugly is the most beautiful love of all." Rundgren does himself one better than he did on Something/Anything? with the ten minute "Medley: I'm So Proud/Ooh Baby Baby/La La Means I Love You/Cool Jerk." Rundgren raves, "A meal at McDonald's/Nothing fills a man when he's hungry for love" on the demented would-be lovesong "Hungry for Love." The song is baffling—and, of course, that is the name of the game—presented next to the sincere "I Don't Want to Tie You Down." Rundgren said at the time, "For [David] Bowie, the songs are a background for a theatrical presentation rather than a musical one [...] Alice [Cooper] and David really break the illusion at a certain point. It seems to leave the realm of strict theater."² He may have been commenting further on this on "Is It My Name?" when he exclaims, "There is cause and effect/There's a reason I'm so erect," and asks, "My voice goes so high you would think I was gay/But I play my guitar in such a man-cock way/Why don't you love me?/Is it my name?" which may indicate frustration at the inability to succeed at the level of Alice Cooper or David Bowie.

"I've never been able to give up certain things that you have to give up to become a star, such as eliminating the more frayed aspects of my personality and becoming a unified thing and representing one thing as much as David or Alice represent one thing. I've never been able to play it straight. I always end up acting like a kid, blowing it and giggling. I don't take it seriously enough to act like I'm supposed to act. If I had an audience with the Queen, I'd giggle through the whole thing." —Rundgren, Interview Magazine, 1973

Finally, Rundgren plays himself straight and summarizes his message with "Just One Victory," a wondrous call to arms where he comments on his critics ("I've been listening to what's been going down/There's just too much talk and gossip going 'round/You may think that I'm a fool, but I know the answer/Words become a tool, anyone can use them) and proclaims, "The time has come to take the bull by the horns [...] We need just one victory and we're on our way."

Todd Rundgren, as he put it, established a new language with A Wizard, a True Star. It may not have the eminence of his prior work, but it is a dense LP with an abundance of ideas and just as diverse as the sprawling Something/Anything? by which he made his name. It has potential to be a revelation to casual fans, and for the true fans, it is an essential milestone.

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1 2 interviewmagazine.com/music/new-again-todd-rundgren^↩

The Residents—The Big Bubble

The Residents—The Big Bubble

The Big Bubble—It's always disheartening to have a source of entertainment turn into one of agony. The Residents' first-ever tour was supposed to add to the world of the Moles and Chubs from Mark of the Mole (1980) and The Tunes of Two Cities (1981), and people loved it, but many aspects of it turned out to be impractical.¹ Few reliable accounts exist on the details of the Mole Show's demise, but most seem to report that the Residents returned to the studio with their tails between their legs, bitterly, and perhaps with less personnel than they started—much as the characters of their production probably did following the war explained in Mark of the Mole. Incidentally, with the release of The Big Bubble, that is now the only hole in Mole history.

The Residents have allegedly claimed that the missing link between Mark of the Mole and The Big Bubble will be released (The Tunes of Two Cities was a companion piece with recordings that date prior to Mark), but more than thirty years later, it has yet to surface. It is possible that this period in the timeline was deemed non-essential. The Mole-Chub war would conceivably leave the two societies in disarray, and much of the following years would be spent regrouping, so there is a question as to whether there would be material to use for an album. The time elapsed between the two stories is expounded thusly:

"The survivors of the two cultures lived side-by-side in uneasy peace. The war had not resulted in any clear winner, but time had promoted those who had the appropriate appetite for power, and the Chubs were famous for their various appetites. Many Moles and Chubs had blended socially so mixed marriages were common. Their offspring were referred to as 'Cross.' In response to this a 'Zinkenite' movement by traditional Moles, or 'Mohelmot,' had surfaced to encourage the establishment of a new Mohelmot nation." —Liner notes of The Big Bubble (1985)

The exposition goes on to say that the Big Bubble is the name of a band and that The Big Bubble is their debut album. Most LPs of Bubble show a cover-within-a-cover graphic that backs this idea with four individuals that represent the band members. Ramsey, the lead singer (front-center), is portrayed by a Residents stage-hand, though the performance on the actual recordings was done by the Residents' usual vocalist. The man on the far right is a German fan of the Residents, and the identities of the other two are not known. The story goes that Ramsey and Frank, the principal songwriters, got together with Paul and Alex as a garage band and raised enough money to release the single "The Big Bubble," but because they had no name the song's title was appended to their identity.

A "second-generation Cross" named Kula Bocca spoke at a Zinkenite rally and asked the Big Bubble to play after his speech, as he "knew that [...] they needed the energy, passion, and, above all, naivete of youth." They played a new composition called "Cry for the Fire," which featured the Mole language that had been outlawed after the war. Bocca further conspired to have Ramsey arrested on these grounds as a political move, and "Cry for the Fire" became the Zinkenite anthem. He then contacted Frankie DuVall (spelled "Frinky" on the inner sleeve) of Black Shroud Records (the black shroud being the article of clothing the Moles wear as seen in depictions), who supported the Zinkenites even though he was a Chub; The Big Bubble became the first record to feature the traditional Mole lyrics.

What this all means for the listener is that The Big Bubble is not like its predecessors. It is recorded as if it was a real LP—song-oriented, with no overarching story other than that which exists in the abstract. If Mark of the Mole was something like a cast recording, and The Tunes of Two Cities was a cultural document made up of historical recordings, then The Big Bubble is the contemporary rock album, and with it the Residents have compiled a triumvirate of various ways one can experience music. Bubble is also the beginning of the Residents' new sound; between it and Tunes there was not an exorbitant amount of original music by the band as they recovered from the failure of their tour. The songs are inundated with dark, cutting synths and semitones, which would continue with God in Three Persons (1988), though that album and any that follow are not part of the Mole saga.

Bubble suffers from tedium. It is roughly the same length as Tunes, but that album had the advantage of dynamics and a wider range of sounds. When looking at the overall Mole concept, it's understandable that the Residents recorded an album faithful to the characters they created. The Big Bubble is a debut LP, so the repetitive nature is apropos, as is the lack of anything resembling a hook; the lyrics are either nonsensical, tough to comprehend, or sung in the Mole language for which no translation is provided, which again can be explained via an intuitive leap: the Big Bubble is likely made of Cross members, who probably weren't given higher standards of education, so their music and lyrics are more primal and simplistic.

Unfortunately, The Big Bubble cannot be recommended on its own merits. The music is not exactly bad, and some stand out, but it is not varied enough to warrant repeated listening. However, for anyone who loved Mark of the Mole and the rest of the Mole media, Bubble is an essential adventure. Its story provides a plethora of talking points for the enthusiast, with its fatal drawback being that for the first time, that story overtook the music.

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1 residents.com/historical4/mole/page1/index.php^↩

The Residents—The Tunes of Two Cities

The Residents—The Tunes of Two Cities

The Tunes of Two Cities—It is fitting that the Residents would not choose to make a traditional sequel to Mark of the Mole. They are not a transparent band, and Mole was not a clear-cut work. The follow-up is titled in respect to the Charles Dickens novel: The Tunes of Two Cities, which ironically is less of a recounting and more of a repository.

Tunes does actually satisfying the most burning question that Mole raised: What were the two cultures like before fate forever fused them? Mole did offer a portrait of Mole society, but it left much to the imagination, and Chubs were barely defined, existing primarily as villains. Tunes has a Chub right on the cover, and it's just as unflattering; he or she wears a Mole puppet that looks the same as the one on Mark of the Mole, which suggests the interesting implication that Mole was something akin to a stage show. This could be a somatic reference, as the Residents would kick off the ill-fated "Mole Show" around this time, which was topically successful but a logistical nightmare.

The liner notes explain, "The Tunes of Two Cities [...] is a documentation of the music of these two cultures as they were before fate threw them into turmoil. The tracks on this disc alternate between societies [...] making its point, not just by what is said... but by the listener's willingness to understand the globe-wrenching power of 'difference,'" implying that the Chubs are not necessarily malefactors, and that conclusions about the two peoples can be drawn a posteriori. Tunes must be analyzed in the larger context of its fiction, especially considering its songs are largely instrumental. Most of the Chub songs are styled like big band, jazz, and swing numbers or are outright adaptations of them. This music was sometimes seen in its time as a novelty: simple dance music enjoyed by the masses. The Moles' music is not crafted into songs per se, and echoes Mark of the Mole with dark, percussive noise and devotional-type chanting.

The song titles for the Mole pieces are vital to understanding the ideas, while the Chub song titles only serve to confuse. "God of Darkness" and "Praise for the Curse" are Mole hymns, while the other songs suggest tribal inclinations or rural life. The Chub titles are seemingly irreverent, such as "Smack Your Lips (Clap Your Teeth)" (which is "In the Mood" by Glenn Miller). The last two Chub songs break the cycle: "Song of the Wild" sounds like a blend of the two cultural styles, and "Happy Home," bearing the parenthetical text "Excerpt from Act II of 'Innisfree,'" takes a cue from the opening to Mark of the Mole and turns it into an ominous, lurching requiem.

The connotation seems to be that although the Moles and Chubs are wildly different, there is enough common ground to indicate the two can live in peace. This is supported by The Big Bubble (1985), whose story in the Residents' words says that several decades after the war in Mark of the Mole, some Moles and Chubs had blended socially and mixed marriages were common. The logical conclusion between this and the existence of the Mole Show seems to be that Mark of the Mole was, in fact, a theater production and not a first-hand account. If the phrase spoken in "Happy Home" is of Chub origin, and the song existed before the events of Mole (to reiterate: "the music of these two cultures as they were before"), it means this phrase was appended to the Mole production. It follows that this might cast doubt on the verity of Mark of the Mole, but the bias must reasonably come from a Mole-sympathizing Chub or a mixed-race individual.

Regarding the music outside the context of the saga, the Residents turn in a memorable performance. The sampling keyboard is used to great effect, as the noises produced by it sound more environmental than they do digital, adding atmosphere to a record that is dissonant by nature. The Mole songs are certainly the highlights, aside from the Chubs' inspired "Song of the Wild" and the at least engaging "Happy Home." It is understandable that there are four cheesy Chub tunes to even out the set, but for the listener, the point is made with just one or two; however, they are brief enough that they do not detract from the experience too greatly. The Tunes of Two Cities and its ensuing tour turned out to be near-doom for the Residents, but it is a good listen and a welcome addition to the Mole trilogy.

The Residents—Mark of the Mole

The Residents—Mark of the Mole

Mark of the Mole—Ambitious projects have fickle natures. The essence of the avant-garde poses more problems for the persistent artist, as the ability to furnish one's work is often reliant on the overall appeal of it all. The Residents have always been uncompromising, even subversive, titling their latest LP in 1980 "The Commercial Album." Until that point, the group always worked within the confines of a single production, even if the idea was grand. Their numerous albums and the scrapped Vileness Fats were all more or less self-contained. Eskimo (1979) was a challenging effort, but not a massive undertaking—then came Mark of the Mole.

The Residents are not primarily a touring band, which is not surprising, given the principles of the collective. The eyeball costumes first conceived for the cover of Eskimo gave them an approach to stage performance that allowed concealment of their identities while maintaining a certain other physiognomy. Their true intentions are not known, but Mole may not have begun life as a grandiose performance act; it was not until its follow-up The Tunes of Two Cities that the band commenced its supporting tour, "The Mole Show." It was either intended to be the first of any number of "Mole" albums (sources vary as to this quantity) or was just a single item that the Residents later decided to expand upon. Most agree that it was intended as a trilogy; The Big Bubble (1985) purported to be "Part Four of the Mole Trilogy," but this may have been a simple joke after the eventual failure of the Mole Show.

Mark of the Mole is the story of the Moles and the Chubs, who are forced to live together in the land of the Chubs when endless rain drives the Moles from their own. It is possible the catalyst for this story was something that happened to the Residents¹ or any number of existing works,² but Mole is generally treated as a pure fiction. The foreboding "Voices of the Air" seems to correspond to the abstract art on the album cover: the Moles live in a craggy underground society, suddenly unusually cloudy and breezy according to Penn Jillette's narration given in the form of a radio broadcast. "The Pit" is about to be overcome by heavy rain, which proves to be "The Ultimate Disaster." The Moles only wish to toil, worshiping darkness and a god that is referred to in related media as "Disposer." The Residents' music here is rhythmic, understated, and tribal, reflecting a rustic society. The Moles relish an uneasy calm, but as sirens and rushing water begin to be heard, they lament their impending exodus.

The unnamed speaking Mole appears to prophesy and channel his god, with a sinister voice superimposed over his words. He and the Moles conclude that there is salvation by the sea, and the chaos fades out and calmly back in as "Migration." The Moles are optimistic as they march; the music is subdued, but from a relative view this is to be taken as buoyant and cheery. The listener is introduced to the "Observer" character, who is never explicitly mentioned before or after this point. He states that the Moles move at night, and also alludes to a previous time of strife. The Moles eventually make it to "Another Land," when the Chubs speak for the first time. They seem to have only a vague understanding of whence the Moles come and see in them low-cost labor, looking to exploit their propensity to work tirelessly. The music that comes with the Chubs is uncharacteristic of their "cheap thrills" society and more reflects their sinister nature in the eyes of the Moles. The Moles line up for work and not all are given employment, suggesting overpopulation in the newly-integrated society.

Conditions seem to have stabilized as "The New Machine" begins. An engineer, who is a Mole or at least a sympathizer, proclaims he will build a "great machine" that will release the Moles from their effective slavery. The Chubs meanwhile whip themselves into a frenzy over paranoid claims that the Moles will overrun their society and "steal [their] daughters." The engineer initially fails, but with great perseverance completes his machine. This incites an uprising as he had hoped, and the Chubs jeer the Moles bitterly. The Moles are more reserved in their response to the conflict, but "The Final Confrontation" nonetheless develops. The brief conflict is represented by dissonant noise and synthesizer-sirens, eventually culminating in a wash of screams and earthen croaking. The coda is plodding and peaceful by comparison, yet tense and haunting. The liner notes to The Big Bubble indicate that the war did not end with a definite victor.

Mark of the Mole certainly comes out of left field, but it is a compelling and surprisingly relatable story. It is unmusical, but there is a genuine sense of the Moles' culture in what music does exist, and the soundscapes illustrate well the environmental conditions and settings. The lyrics and spoken words do not always clearly indicate their meanings, but the rest of the package usually gives enough context to infer the feelings and story cues. The climactic but uncertain resolution of the story and the promise of a rich, larger world leave the listener wanting more, and the grotesque characters somehow invoke compassion.

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1 residents.com/historical4/mole/page3/page3.php^↩
2 gio80.com/mark-of-the-mole^↩

Frank Zappa—Lumpy Gravy (1967 version)

Frank Zappa—Lumpy Gravy (original 1967 release)

Lumpy Gravy—The canon of Frank Zappa is immense. Among his works, there exist pieces that are perhaps more important than others in the grand scheme of things. Many of his recordings originally stemmed from older compositions and took on lives of their own. One of these such compositions is the symphonic performance Lumpy Gravy. It is important to note that there are two discrete versions of the album. The most well-known incarnation today is the 1968 release, which is constructed in a similar manner to the preceding We're Only in It for the Money (1967), but with a more experimental bent. It is a mix of varied instrumentals and edited parts of the "piano-dweller" sound bites:

"One day I decided to stuff a pair of U-87's in the piano, cover it with a heavy drape, put a sand bag on the sustain pedal and invite anybody in the vicinity to stick their head inside and ramble incoherently about the various topics I would suggest to them via the studio talk-back system [...] what emerged from the texts was a vague plot regarding pigs and ponies, threatening the lives of characters who inhabit a large piano." —Frank Zappa, liner notes of Civilization Phaze III

The other Lumpy Gravy is an orchestral work that was composed and conducted by Zappa under the Capitol label after the release of Absolutely Free (1967), but quickly pulled after a lawsuit from Zappa's regular label, MGM. This article pertains to the original Lumpy Gravy. Though they each contain much of the same music, they are distinct works with differing intentions. Lumpy Gravy is tracked with nine movements totaling a brisk 22:37. It stands as its own article, but it can also be thought of historically as the focal point of three Frank Zappa works: the soundtrack to the film The World's Greatest Sinner, "Oh No," and "King Kong."

"Oh No" is a song that exists all over Zappa's discography in various forms both vocal and instrumental. It appears here in its earliest recordings, quoted and played throughout the album. During the same time period, the Fraternity of Man released the first vocal version on their debut LP. The World's Greatest Sinner was a 1962 film for which Zappa composed the score; parts of it are played here by the "Abnuceals Emuukha Electric Symphony Orchestra," a rag-tag group of musicians commissioned for the album, some of who would later play on Orchestral Favorites (1975). "King Kong" is heard here as part of "Foamy Soaky" along with a variation on "A Pound for a Brown on the Bus." Both of these would appear in their most essential forms on Uncle Meat (1969), which itself was conceived as the soundtrack to a movie of the same name. The Uncle Meat movie would not be released until 1987.

The Lumpy Gravy of 1967 is very different than the rest of Zappa's output during that period. It is likely that Zappa was enthusiastic about the opportunity, as he was known to have been composing since age 14 under the influence of Stravinsky and Varèse. It is a compelling performance, especially for a first effort, although Zappa himself did not play in it. The 1968 Lumpy Gravy may have more relevance to the overall progression of popular music and to Zappa's own oeuvre, the original work is equally a joy to hear.

This once-rare original recording of Lumpy Gravy can be heard as an 8-track tape or as part of The Lumpy Money Project/Object (2009).

The Mothers of Invention—We're Only in It for the Money

The Mothers of Invention—We're Only in It for the Money, seen here with Frank Zappa's intended front cover artwork

We're Only in It for the Money—When people think back on groups that rivaled the Beatles, the usual nominees are the Rolling Stones or the Beach Boys, but it was possibly the Mothers of Invention with whom they had the most direct rapport. Freak Out! (1966) was, by most accounts, the impetus for Paul McCartney to form the Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band concept, but at the time of that album's release, Mothers bandleader Frank Zappa was less enthusiastic in return:

"I got the impression from what was going on at the time that they were only in it for the money—and that was a pretty unpopular view to hold." —Frank Zappa, 1987 interview with Rolling Stone

The Mothers of Invention were generally sold as a band, but this was purely nominative: their first two albums and Zappa's debut solo LP included a total of one song between the three not composed solely by Zappa. Freak Out! was one of the first rock concept albums and featured doo-wop, a smidgen of protest music, and experimental music that predated the contemporary Velvet Underground by almost a year. Absolutely Free (1967) was less pointed but continued Zappa's social commentary while mixing in Stravinsky-inspired themes. Lumpy Gravy (1967) was a different beast. That album was first recorded by Zappa and the "Abnuceals Emuukha Electric Symphony Orchestra," but later the same year Zappa took the recording and spliced with it sound bites of various band members and guests speaking near a grand piano, which was causing its strings to resonate.

During those recording sessions, the Mothers were recording material that would eventually span four LPs (We're Only in It for the Money, Cruising with Ruben & the Jets, and the double album Uncle Meat) and parts of others (Burnt Weeny Sandwich and Weasels Ripped My Flesh). Their output during this period was created with "No Commercial Potential" in mind, a loose concept referencing the notion that Zappa and the Mothers' music was not considered radio-friendly or bankable. Money was the first release in this series. The original vinyl record featured a photograph of the Mothers as transvestites on the cover with Zappa's planned artwork as the inner lining: a pastiche parodic of Sgt. Pepper that was shot down in fear of scandal.

Money is an uncommon album for just how many configurations have been released over the years. Upon its release, many songs were censored in places, all of it in varying degrees across international releases and widespread misprints. Musically, there are basically three distinct versions. There are the original mono and stereo mixes, which are not vastly different from one another but do feature some noticeable alterations beyond the number of audio channels. These are the versions likely to be heard on a modern Money CD and collectively constitute the widely preferred mix. There is also the original CD mix on which Zappa added newly-recorded rhythm sections, which is otherwise notable for featuring little to no censorship. The Lumpy Money Project/Object (2009) contains the mono mix and the CD remix but not the stereo mix among other relevant recordings. Inasmuch as these discrepancies go, all mixes have the same songs and are not fundamentally different compositions even if they sound very different to the ear.

"Are You Hung Up?" is a bizarre excerpt of Eric Clapton, engineer Gary Kellgren, and drummer Jimmy Carl Black speaking. "Who Needs the Peace Corps?" attacks hippies, while its counterpart "Concentration Moon" does the same to police. Zappa lets the listener know that no party is safe from scorn, here delivered in a crass, dull manner. What's important to note at this point is that Zappa's harmonies have become inviting compared to Absolutely Free and the non-doo wop portion of Freak Out! material. This makes the music welcome to hear even when the lyrics are not his most incisive. "Mom & Dad" continues Zappa's themes of "plastic people" in a more melancholy light.

"Bow Tie Daddy" does the same in a more gimmicky tone, preceded by a non sequitur "Telephone Conversation" and followed by "Harry, You're a Beast;" the miniature suite passively testifies against male entitlement. "What's the Ugliest Part of Your Body?" is a highlight, based around a paraprosdokian of sorts as the question's answer turns out to be "your mind." It is also one of the few numbers on the album with ties to doo-wop. A great piano interlude by Ian Underwood opens "Absolutely Free," which borrows its title from the Mothers' previous album and is as much a swipe against cheesy culture as it take-off on psychedelic, LSD-washed music. The same can be said of "Flower Punk," which uses "Hey Joe" as its basis while Zappa's myriad vocal overlays snipe the mindsets of people in popular music. "Hot Poop" is a short bout of noise that is more of Gary Kellgren ("the one doing all the creepy whispering" according to the liner notes) and an obscured missing verse from "Mother People" on side two.

"Nasal Retentive Calliope Music" begins the experimental side with more of "noted philosopher" Eric Clapton against a noise background ("an instrumental overture to a series of songs about people with strange personal habits") and a surf interspersion of "Heavies" by the Zappa-produced Rotations. "Let's Make the Water Turn Black" is one of the most accessible songs on Money by contrast, and also one of the only vocal songs that doesn't criticize American culture: the story of Ronnie and Kenny Williams (and Mothers saxophonist and road manager "Motorhead" Sherwood), who played in the Masters, an early 60s group. "The Idiot Bastard Son" continues this story at a slower pace with snippets of several speakers in the mix.

"Lonely Little Girl" was the only single from the album, clocking in at one minute counting a few sped-up fragments of other songs. "Take Your Clothes off When You Dance" has an obscure genesis, having been originally recorded in 1961 by Zappa in Cucamonga as an instrumental and here done as a near-singalong. "What's the Ugliest Part of Your Body? (Reprise)" is done here in basically the same way as on side one, but slightly mellower as the album comes to a close. "Mother People" is an updated Mothers anthem reminiscent of "Motherly Love" from Freak Out!; the orchestral interlude is a part of "Up & Down" from the original Lumpy Gravy. This piece would also be used on the renovated Lumpy Gravy as part of the "I Don't Know If I Can Go Through This Again" segment. This version would be released after Money, whose artwork shows a talk bubble above Zappa saying "Is this phase one of Lumpy Gravy?" "The Chrome Plated Megaphone of Destiny" is another piece of musique concrète that appears to be part of Zappa's series of tributes to Edgard Varèse (Zappa was a notorious fan and included a modified quote from Varèse in his albums' liner notes: "The present day composer refuses to die!").

It is difficult to discuss any of Frank Zappa's work without the larger scope of his immense discography and his life in general. We're Only in It for the Money is no exception. It sits at a crossroads for the Mothers, who would go on to perform and record a lot of material that would not appear on contemporary Mothers releases; the following two albums were recorded alongside Money and the two after that are put together from miscellaneous recordings. Zappa said of "No Commercial Potential" that "It's all one album. All the material [...] is organically related" and, indeed, the four are very close in their impressions. Money and the second Lumpy Gravy are also part of a different continuity that involves Zappa's final work during his lifetime, Civilization Phaze III. Despite this, We're Only in It for the Money is the most cohesive of the Mothers' albums, with a simple sound that masks dense material. Its cultural relevance has faded somewhat, but it is still an important and forward-thinking record, which is why it was selected in 2005 to be part of the United States National Recording Registry. Its music is not for everyone, but it is nonetheless a fascinating piece of history and a work of genius.