I had the distinct pleasure of experiencing the “Zappa Plays Zappa” concert at the Kiva Auditorium last Wednesday evening. This one delivered. Dweezil Zappa, guitarist and son of American Icon, Frank Zappa, famously subjected himself to a two-year guitar boot camp and then assembled a frighteningly capable band in order to take his father’s music back out on the road. I suspect I was something of an anomaly among the other enthusiastic and predominantly aging attendees that night in that although I consider myself to be an aficionado if not a rabid fan of Frank Zappa’s music, I regrettably never availed myself of an opportunity to see one of his legendary concerts before his death from cancer in 1993. Dweezil’s concert, this tribute, this heartfelt homage from a son to father, from an exceedingly talented group of young musicians to a man who will most certainly one day be revered as a National Treasure and one of the world’s great composers has allowed me atone for that particular sin of omission. If you were there you know what I’m talking about. Frank Zappa produced in his lifetime a virtually bottomless body of work ranging from psychedelic rantings to deft political and social skewerings to suicidal doo-wop laments to soulful scatological ballads to absurd but infectious rock anthems to big-band and small combo jazz cannon additions to blatantly offensive diatribes to groundbreaking, head-spinning fusion excursions to hair-raising neoclassical masterworks to purely electronic, otherworldly and description-defying sound sculptures, many of which are simply exquisite. Dweezil and his band have carefully selected a tantalizing subset from this vast vault of genius and played it. Faithfully and Well. This extraordinary group consisting of Dweezil Zappa on guitar, vocals and ceremony masterings; Sheila Gonzales on sometimes simultaneous saxophones, flute, vocals and keyboards; Jamie Kime on guitar; Joe Travers on drums and vocals; Aaron Arntz on keyboards and trumpet; Pete Griffin on bass; Billy Hulting on vibes and percussion; and soulful vocalist, guitarist and Mothers alumnus Ray White, worked their inspired way through an array of crowd pleasing hits and impossibly beautiful and difficult compositions for three solid hours. I list the musicians so you will recognize their names as you do George Duke’s, Steve Vai’s, Terry Bozzio’s and the dozens of now famous artists who have graduated from the Ultimate School of Virtuosity that was Frank’s music. Initially off-putting but ultimately effective concert segments were the occasional technology-facilitated, surreal guitar jams between Dweezil and Frank, who’s deft soloing and acid vocalization was projected onto a large screen behind the band. It was all over too quickly for me. I didn’t take notes. I didn’t want it to end. I can remember grooving out to “Dumb All Over”, “Muffin Man”, “Brown Shoes Don’t Make It”, “Peaches en Regalia”, “Montana”, “G-Spot Tornado”, “The Illinois Enema Bandit”, “San Berdino”, “Joe’s Garage”, “Pygmy Twilight”, “Wind Up Working in a Gas Station”, “Cheapnis”, “What’s New in Baltimore”, “Uncle Remus”, “Willy the Pimp”, “I’m the Slime”, “Bamboozled by Love”, “Camarillo Brillo”, “City of Tiny Lites”, “Carolina Hard-Core Ecstasy” and “My Guitar Wants to Kill Your Momma”. I hope they come back soon.
Dweezil Zappa Review
3 min read
