Friday, June 22, 2018

A Bad Sounding Masterpiece: Trout Mask Replica

            1969 was a seminally important year for popular music, specifically rock music. Albums like Abbey Road by The Beatles, Led Zeppelin II by Led Zeppelin, and Tommy by The Who were released by bands that had helped define 1960’s rock music as well influencing the types of rock that would be popularized in the early 1970s. These and other artists eventually created sub-genres like psychedelic rock, garage rock, and art rock with other bands taking to these sub-genres and expanding on what rock music could be. Of these sub-genres, one of the more out there styles sonically that become prominent was experimental rock with Frank Zappa and The Velvet Underground being two of its early pioneers. However, in the playground that is experimental rock, Captain Beefheart and his Magic Band created one of the weirdest, confusing, and avant-garde sounding rock albums ever. This album is known for its unique, and at times, bad sound, but also hailed for its importance in experimentation of song structure, instrumentation, and lyrics. With its odd legacy, the album Trout Mask Replica is 1 hour and 14 minutes of adventure into the sonic unknown that should be experienced at least once by any listener of music.
            Before even getting into the description of the music, the lore surrounding this album’s creation should be addressed. The band rehearsed the songs in Los Angeles for months during 1968 in a small rented house with Beefheart taking complete artistic control of the process. He was known for berating the band members with even going as far as acting violent towards them whenever the rehearsals wouldn’t go to his liking. The band’s financial situation wasn’t any better. The group was always strapped for cash, and on one occasion, resorted to stealing food with fellow avant-garde musician and producer Frank Zappa covering the bail for said members. This style continued into the following year once Beefheart and his Magic Band entered the studio to record Trout Mask Replica.
            Once in the studio, the album’s recording took place in short sessions in March of 1969. The Magic Band recorded 20 instrumental tracks in a six-hour session, which is insane in a contemporary recording context with many bands taking years to record a 12-track album. From this sporadic instrument tracking, Beefheart overdubbed vocals but not in traditional sense, obviously. Instead of wearing studio headphones, he would record vocals with hearing the tracked instruments through the windows of the vocal booth. When asked the reasoning behind this creative choice, Beefheart stated that he wished for a chaotic type of recording process because “That’s what they do before a commando raid, isn’t it?” This unconventional process of recording helps to understand as to why the music was revolutionary in experimental rock.
            From my first time listening to this album to the 5th or so time going over it, I always end up pondering the harsh collision between Beefheart’s vocals and the ensemble of instrumentation that are chaotic but charming. In almost every song, the band and the vocalist are engaged in some type of sonic warfare to see who would come out on top in the mix. This creates a tension that, at times, made me laugh at the shouting match between Beefheart’s vocals and the band in a song like “Moonlight on Vermont,” with its nail scratching chalkboard lead guitar accompanied by one of the weirdest rock rhythms I have ever heard. This fearlessness of the unknown is exhibited in the lyrical writing as well, which lends the lyrics to be read by a master of decoding or ciphers to understand what Beefheart means when he sings, “Hope lost his head ‘n got off on alligators Somebody's leavin’ peanuts on the curbins.” These musical elements in this one song are continuous throughout the other 27 songs, which made my first time listening so memorable.             
Captain Beefheart
            One of my favorite parts of the album happens during the opening song, “Frownland,” where Beefheart sings with the vibrato of a man who has just slain some type of demonic woodland creature (I'm looking at you squirrels), “My smile is stuck. I cannot go back to your frownland.” To me, these lyrics sum up what tone or mood the record goes for; finding the absurdity in life's more trying or difficult moments can lead to humor. That life is hectic and spontaneous and should not be met with a frown but with a smile. So yes, Captain Beefheart, I am certainly not going back to “Frownland,” and neither will you once you take the time to listen to this odd record.

I’d like to thank my friend Kyle Silva for recommending this album to me. 
Let me know in the comments your thoughts on this album or other weird music you have heard before!

Link to the song "Frownland": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r9lpLm7jwQY

Link to the entire record: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7zdLfPN6F-o&t=824s

Sources: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=58nPEe-TU-w&t=127s
http://vpinterviews.blogspot.com/2005/04/magic-band.html
From Zig Zag magazine, No. 8, 1969 (as cited by M. Barnes in Captain Beefheart)http://www.ew.com/article/2010/12/17/captain-beefheart-dies/

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