Album Review: Frank Zappa - Apostrophe (‘)

           The Avachives Department of Musical Preservation

Regina Pembly Reviews Frank Zappa — Apostrophe (‘)

There are albums that aspire to greatness, albums that achieve greatness, and then there is Apostrophe (‘), which appears to believe that greatness is something you can obtain by making a joke about dog urine and putting a violin solo behind it.

Frank Zappa has always been under the mistaken impression that irreverence constitutes sophistication. On Apostrophe (‘) he assembles nine pieces of musical evidence proving that a man can possess considerable technical ability and still behave as though someone has locked him in a room with a typewriter, a tape recorder, and a twelve-year-old's sense of humor.

The opening sequence—“Don’t Eat the Yellow Snow,” “Nanook Rubs It,” “St. Alfonzo’s Pancake Breakfast,” and “Father O’Blivion”—is essentially one extended shaggy-dog story disguised as progressive rock. The musicianship is undeniably accomplished. The material, however, repeatedly threatens to collapse under the weight of its own cleverness. One begins to suspect that Zappa believes every musical passage becomes profound if it is sufficiently complicated.

Then comes “Cosmik Debris,” which is perhaps the album's most successful attempt at combining satire and actual songwriting. The tune has structure, personality, and something dangerously close to restraint. Naturally, Zappa cannot leave well enough alone.

“Excentrifugal Forz” and the title track provide further demonstrations that these musicians can actually play. Ruth Underwood's percussion and the ensemble's rhythmic precision are particularly impressive. It is almost irritating. Why must people who are capable of playing this well insist on surrounding their music with such adolescent nonsense?

“Uncle Remus” is the closest the album comes to genuine elegance. George Duke's contribution gives the piece warmth and musical sophistication, while Zappa momentarily appears to remember that melodies can be beautiful without being ironic. It is easily the most civilized moment on the record.

And then, naturally, we are rewarded with “Stink-Foot.”

One can almost hear Zappa congratulating himself.

The problem with Apostrophe (‘) is not that it is badly played. Quite the opposite. The musicians are excellent, the arrangements are intricate, and Zappa's control of the studio is considerable. The problem is that all this craftsmanship has been placed in the service of material that frequently seems determined to undermine it.

It is like watching John Singer Sargent paint a magnificent portrait while someone stands beside him drawing a mustache on it.

Still, unlike most contemporary art, there is genuine ability beneath the provocation. Apostrophe (‘) is not fraud. It is something considerably more annoying: talent deliberately refusing to behave itself.

Regina Pembly
Senior Critic, The Society for the Preservation of Standards