Certain artists cannot fail or even come close to making a lousy recording because of the quality of their voice, artistically and technically. For instance, Scott Walker and David Bowie never made a bad recording. Of course, some are better than others, but everything they have done has a touch of originality, like a legal signature or a marking of one’s DNA. Don Van Vliet (aka Captain Beefheart) comes to mind as a member of this exclusive club. In truth, I prefer the music by Bowie and Walker, but the original presence of Beefheart is genuinely singular and extraordinary. Beyond that, I have only four albums by Captain Beefheart and the Magic Band, and they are Safe as Milk (1967), Lick My Decals Off, Baby (1970), Clear Spot (1972), and Shiny Beast (Bat Chain Puller) (1978). And, of course, the first record I have ever heard by this early version of the band Diddy Wah Diddy (1966), a local hit in Los Angeles.
I feel those recordings represent his work, and oddly enough, I don’t own what many consider his masterpiece, Trout Mask Replica. Not that Trout Mask Replica is a bad album (what I heard in bits), but one that never appealed to my senses. My father, on the other hand, loved this album when it was initially released in the late 1960s, and for the life of me, I couldn’t understand how he could listen to this aural chaos. Everything from the iconic album cover to its music inside drove me batty as a teenager. As a 69-year-old man (my birthday was a few days ago), this is a work I can admire, but I would put Safe as Milk before Trout Mask Replica. My conservative taste in music often alarms me at this stage in my older life. But not all is hopeless; I’m sure this album may be my favorite when I reach 79, so there is hope.
There’s a looseness that I don’t like in Trout Mask… but I love the tightness of the other Beefheart albums. One is the discipline of free jazz, but the later albums I admire are like a classic 1960s James Brown recording and the sound of control over his musicians. I suspect Van Vliet would fine his bands if they played the wrong note on stage. But that’s my fantasy of his existence. When I listen to Safe as Milk, it reminds me of the Rolling Stones Aftermath era because it’s straightforward rock n’ roll but with exotic touches in its arrangments. It is also very much in front of your face type of music. This album and others are not good for background ambiance while chatting with a friend. Funny enough, I was at a young friend’s house, which was full of young musicians, and they were playing the Shiny Beast album in the background; it was hard for me to focus on a social level because the music was too demanding, I need to surrender totally to Beefheart’s music. Honestly, even elevator music grabs my attention in a social situation. I sit or stand there, thinking of the music more than what is happening in front of me.
Every artist needs a vision, a place real or imaginary, but they must put the listener into their world. Van Vliet invites the listener in and then shuts the door behind them. After that, you are placed in the Captain Beefheart world, and for at least 40 minutes or so, you are physically and mentally in his head space. And 95% of his music, one wants to move to his sound. There’s a classic Los Angeles-like rhythm n’ blues filtered through his music, but he and the band give it twists and textures; one can imagine a Dan Penn or Dr. John lurking between the layers of sound.
I have met Don a few times. The first time he and his band, with the Safe as Milk lyricist Herb Bermann, came over to visit my dad. We were friends with Herb, and at the time, he was busy writing songs with Don and writing scripts for Episodic TV shows. The second time I met him was when I worked at Licorice Pizza, a record store chain in Southern California. The store I worked at was on Sherman Way, in Reseda, at the height of Boogie Nights Valley life. The porn industry was mega and located in Reseda and Van Nuys then. Don’s Magic Band at that time, Shiny Beast era, came from my high school, Taft, in Woodland Hills. How he recruited my friends at school is a mystery, but Jeff Tepper, his guitarist, my friend, and Don came to the store. I think Don wanted to pay his respects when my father passed away a few years before our meeting at the store. I chose to play him two records: Pere Ubu’s first album, The Modern Dance, which he hated and wanted me to take off the record player. The second album I played him was the Buzzcocks’ first album, Another Music in a Different Kitchen, and he was into that. It was a fun and pleasurable visit.
The beauty of his music is when it becomes majestic, in Wagnerian overtones, when the sound swells into a swoon, but with a driving groove. His song Autumn Child from Safe as Milk and a section in Big Eye Beans from Venus build up in a glorious god-like bliss. He does this occasionally, and it hits me when I least expected it to. And then there is a garage rock-like sound but with piles of sophistication and, again, the tightness of a classic James Brown Revue.
Don lived on the street I live on, or that is the legend around here. I know he was born in Glendale, which is not far from where I am now. So, I feel his presence here and there, and here he is.
I don't think that Trout Mask, which I adore, is loose. I think it was very tightly arranged to sound that way. But it's my 2nd favorite. My favorite is Lick My Decals Off. I saw that lineup in 1971 at the tiny Ungano's club in Manhattan. Staggering. I'm a sucker for marimba!
I don't agree that he never made a bad album, though. The Mercury Records period (Unconditionally Guaranteed & Bluejeans & Moonbeams) is pretty dire. The label apparently pressured him to become more commercial. I also saw him live during the Mercury period, in Brussels at the ICA. Henry Cow (who I had actually gone to see) opened and blew him off the stage.
That's an excellent strategy, trying again anon.....I was 18 the year it came out, and already steeped in Charles Ives and Harry Partch, Carl Ruggles and even Conlon Nancarrow....the ideal age to encounter it, which I did more less at the same time as encountering Hot Rats, which to this day I consider one of the most perfectly produced rock albums ever made....and especially Willie the Pimp, the most perfectly supernal love song in history....