from usa 25 january 1981 (SUNDAY) NEWSDAY vol.41 #142
by john morthland
is 24 november 1980 interview

note: text - with slight changes and some extensions - reprinted in usa 1 june 1981 MUSIC AND SOUND OUTPUT vol.1 #4 [may / june 1981 on inner pages] as captain beefheart

part 1 - THIS is PART 2

*

his recording debut consisted of two singles, neither of which sold, in 1966. his first album 'safe as milk' was released the next year, followed by 'strictly personal' in 1968. both were relatively accessible blues-rock of a sort. but they were unusual enough that beefheart was widely perceived as some manner of sunset strip acid guru - a complete misconception, because he has always condemned all drugs.

his reputation was made on 1969's 'trout mask replica', a staggering work produced by his old boyhood friend frank zappa (who's often tapped into beefheart for inspiration for his own music). though their relationship turned testy soon thereafter, zappa was the first producer to grant beefheart total freedom in the studio. beefheart had written twenty-six new songs - including some instrumentals and some poems recited a cappella - of such complexity that it took him eight months to teach them to 'the magic band'.

beefheart has always prepared each musician's individual parts for each song on cassette. when each player has then mastered his lines, the band members rehearse the songs together. no deviation from beefheart's original music is permitted. though sometimes criticized for what is perceived to be an authoritarian approach, beefheart is quick to respond.

it wouldn't be me otherwise, and so i wouldn't do it. that'd be usurping my monetary expenditure to let them do their own parts; it costs money to have people play for you. i know what i want. i have to have that sound around me.

on 'trout mask replica' he got what he wanted, and it is indeed an album of sculptured sound. but underneath the surface cacophony is a sure and delicate sense of rhythm, melody and harmony. the songs run a gamut from bawdy tall tales to ferocious protests (mostly concerning ecology, and man's relationship to animals). beefheart tears into them all with childlike enthusiasm, as if he was just discovering his own marvelous voice for the first time ever.

a few critics and musicians quickly hailed him as a genius, but record-buyers stayed away in droves. 'lick my decals off, baby', 'the spotlight kid' and 'clear spot' were all nearly as startling as 'trout mask replica', though he seemed to be reaching out more to the audience with each new effort; all three suffered meager sales nevertheless.

in 1974, with 'unconditionally guaranteed', beefheart attempted to simplify and 'go commercial' and even that failed. except for a subsequent cameo role on zappa's 'bongo fury' album and tour, beefheart didn't get to record again until 1978's 'shiny beast (bat chain puller)'.

with a track record like that, you might expect the man to have become bitter (earlier in his career, his contretemps with record companies and producers had been the stuff of legends). but 'shiny beast' proved to be one of his lightest, most playful efforts. so it only follows now that with things going his way once again, 'doc at the radar station' would be a more somber album, one whose main themes are betrayal and claustrophobia.

i'm real happy these days, and when i'm real happy it sounds more like... i mean, i'm mean, i'm irascible. but this album is also hilarious, you know that. it's a laughing stock. the reason it's more serious is that my baby got more serious, my art baby that makes me do these things. and i thought: 'i'll get this thing exactly the way i heard it in a flash, period'.

and i did. boom! real quick. hot right off the press. turn it over, peel it back, and just hope there aren't too many garbage flanges. the baby just got mad at the fact that in all the things i've done - not all, but a lot of them - there's always been another cook trying to spoil my broth. i don't like it and it won't happen again.

*

as he speaks, he's gazing out the window at a black-and-yellow-checked umbrella someone is carrying on the street below. when car horns blare, he stops talking and cocks an ear to listen. beefheart is fascinated with both sound and color, in and of themselves. asked what he would do if his following grew to a mass audience and he had money forst the time, he thinks a moment and then replies:

i'd probably get an awful lot of canvas and an awful lot of black paint and see what i could do on a canvas with just black paint. i love black paint.

meanwhile, he's now forty and still a cult hero, a state of affairs that seems to faze him hardly at all.

i always think of those mooses with just the head up on a wall like that in a bar or something when i hear that word 'cult', he cringes. a shady bar. shoddy and shady. i always think: 'who are you kidding?'. it sure seems like people take me too serious; i mean, i'd like to tickle them. i'm just doing what i'm doing and i'm having a good time at it.

i mean, of course it's good stuff; i'll never do any bad stuff. i'm too smart. i'm an artist. i know i'm an artist because i didn't sleep. we just came back from nearly a month in europe and i slept eight hours the whole time. and i wrote four albums on this supposed hard jaunt of one-nighters around europe. it was fun. i had a blast. although i did worry about people i know that are virtually starving to death even though they're working harder than ever before.

i don't know why all this sudden interest in me is happening, but it's getting pretty frightening. i think the planet is just a little more shakey, and oddly enough, when everything is getting hot like that, they like me.

he glances back out the window and his eyes light up again as he adds:

the real amazing thing about new york to me is when they're skating down the streets with one of those tape recorders. i don't think they can skate down the street to my music. if they ever can, i want to meet the person and get him in the band!