Nov. 1, 1977 review: Captain Beefheart and His Magic Band at Buff State
Another in a series of mind-blowing shows at
Nov.
1, 1977
Captain
Beefheart
Fuses
Rock, Halloween
Into ‘Demonic’ Smash
Captain Beefheart and the Magic Band
on Halloween is a mystic combination that can’t be beat. The spirit of the
evening lends a certain authority to the Captain’s celebrated musical and
poetic abandon. So does the audience.
Buffalo State College’s Moot Hall
cafeteria resembles a rock-concert version of the bar scene in “Star Wars.”
Sitting at the next table for the early show is a “25th Century Quaker,” a
space-age choirboy whose hair looks like a Brillo pad caught in an electric
grid. Elsewhere prowls a junior version of The Hulk.
It’s not the best of environments for
Sunnyland Slim, the 70-year-old blues pianist. Slim, who’s played with such
modern bluesologists as Canned Heat and the Rolling Stones’ Mick Taylor, spends
most of his elegant set trying to politely make his presence known. He’s got a
drummer to help.
He takes the leisurely route. First,
an exhibit of pumping left hand. Then the ornamental right flourishes in his
first vocal, “Every Time I Get to Drinkin’.”
The crowd gets loud. He quiets them,
wondrously, with his memorial, “Decoration Day,” which he did with King Curtis
in 1940. “Dust My Broom” rouses them the way it should and his own blues
classic, “She Got a Thing Goin’ On,” leaves them cheering.
Lending further credibility to Captain
Beefheart’s aura is the introduction of Langdon Winner, professor at
Massachusetts Institute of Technology and the Captain’s official biographer.
“I’d like to introduce you to one of
the few American originals,” Winner testifies.
The Captain wears a hat, scarf and
moustache. He’s tuned in. His first words: “Well, this is voodoo night.”
Incantations begin with “Bat Chain
Puller,” a blues more fractured than a motorcycle daredevil. Drummer John “Drumbo”
French bashes determined rhythm under the calculated dissonances of guitarists
Denny Walley and Jeff Moris Teaper.
They smile when they hit a really good
one. Eric “Kittaboo” Feldman’s synthesizer gives rude futuristic encouragement.
The Captain declaims on top of all this with a shout. Despite all this clangor
and tension, it fits together perfectly.
The set includes “Crazy Little Thing”
from the “Clear Spot” album, “The Floppy Boot Stomp” and a remarkable guitar
and synthesizer duet on “Dali’s Car” from the 5-year-old masterwork, “Trout
Mask Replica.”
The Captain next amazes all with an
unaccompanied solo on the subject of black snakes, snorting, bleating and
bellowing to such a limit that the assembled goblins shrank back and watched,
spellbound.
He declines a request to do “Debra
Kadabra” from “Bongo Fury” because Frank Zappa isn’t here. Instead he works up
a demonic and unpredictable power that explodes finally in the madness of “Moonlight
on
* *
* * *
IN
THE PHOTO: Captain Beefheart and the Magic Band in a record company promotional photo from the mid-1970s.
* *
* * *
FOOTNOTE:
Captain Beefheart, a/k/a Don Van Vliet, was reinvigorated after recording the “Bongo
Fury” album with Zappa in 1976. He had a new Magic Band and had put together “Bat
Chain Puller,” generally considered his best album after “Trout Mask Replica.”
Contractual problems kept it from being released right away. Wikipedia notes
that the song “Bat Chain Puller” was based on the rhythm of the windshield
wipers on Van Vliet’s car.
He retired from music in 1982 and
devoted himself to art, which was much more lucrative. His paintings and
drawings have been exhibited around the world and currently command prices up
to $20,000. Long afflicted by multiple sclerosis, he died in 2010.
Setlist.fm offers an average setlist
from the 29 dates on the “Bat Chain Puller” tour that goes like this:
Hair Pie Bake III
Suction Prints
Low Yo Yo Stuff
Bat Chain Puller
I Wanna Find a Woman That’ll Hold My
Big Toe Till I Have to Go
Nowadays a Woman’s Gotta Hit a Man
Electricity
A Carrot Is as Close as a Rabbit Gets
to a Diamond
Floppy Boot Stomp
Click Clack
My Human Gets Me Blues
Big Eyed Beans from Venus
An incomplete list from this
Meanwhile, Sunnyland Slim kept right
on playing until his death in 1995 at the age of 88.
As for Langdon Winner, he did a cover
story on Captain Beefheart for Rolling Stone magazine in 1970, but not a book.
These days he has an endowed chair in humanities and social sciences at
Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute.
Comments
Post a Comment