Wednesday, 15 July 2009


"Combining elements of free jazz, blues and rock, Captain Beefheart and His Magic Band produced what is commonly regarded by critics and fans as one of rock's few truly original bodies of work.

Don Van Vliet (aka Captain Beefheart) retired from the music industry after 1982's Ice Cream For Crow album to concentrate on his primary love - paint."



Elby the Beserk said...

Give me that old time religion, it's good enough for me...

lilith said...

None of my women have tears in their eyes...

call me ishmael said...

a propos Ms Lilith's rock 'n' roll erudition, this from Captain Beefheart's Radar Station:

"Throughout his career, Beefheart had consciously bypassed the stereotypical misogynist posturing associated with many white blues musicians. His songs were commonly characterised by a determined avoidance of clich├ęs in both the musical structure and lyrical content - instead of bragging about his prowess as a lover and his ability to conquer sexually, Beefheart’s words would become lost in the frenzy and enjoyment of a sexual encounter (Neon Meate Dream Of A Octafish, 1969), or would boast about his good treatment of his lover in all day-to-day respects rather than just in the bedroom. Mike Barnes illustrated this last point, paraphrasing from his Beefheart biography:

As an example, on Nowadays A Woman's Gotta Hit A Man, Van Vliet was one of the first male rock artists to make an unequivocal stand against man's mistreatment of women. He castigates men in general for their habit of ignoring women and putting them down, and in doing so distances himself from them. He claims that "none of my women have tears in their eyes," but in using the plural he is rather mischievously having his cake and eating it."

This, from Rolling Stone describing Trout Mask Replica as "the most astounding and most important work of art ever to appear on a phonograph record."

I met him one day in the green pastures of Warwick University and he was the most gracious of beings.

lilith said...

Far out. Space Station Warwick!

Elby the Beserk said...

At least you recognised him, Stan - although he would be hard to miss, for sure. My supreme meet a rock 'n roll star embarrassment occurred whilst wandering across the Quad to the JCR, for pre concert refreshments. In the hall, later, Traffic to play - with hot rumours that Clapton might be along for the ride.

Longhair wanders over to me by the Quad.

"Hey man, where's the hall"
"Over there, man", sez I

Longhair wanders off. This longhair clicks. Ahah. Stevie Winwood.


I did however ID Mo Tucker of the Velvets outside the vile Wembley Arena when they toured in the 90s. Utterly and happily dowdy, she stood with two women who looked as thought they could be maiden aunts from Ohio, both in Gingham dresses.

Had a brief but good chat with Ms. Tucker, whose drumming added extra savagery to the already prone to savegery VUs.

Always nice to thank people for gifts. I still think White Light, White Heat to be one of the TOP noisy fuck off your parents LPs (remember them?), along with Anthem Of The Sun, Trout Mask & Bitches Brew. Playing them loud at home meant instant screams from below.

I did however, at a later date, have the pleasure of telling one of my boys to "Turn that noise UP" when he played the VU.

All together now...

White light, White light goin' messin' up my mind
White light, and don't you know its gonna make me go blind
White heat, aww white heat it tickle me down to my toes
White light, Ooo have mercy while I'll have it goodness knows

White light, White light goin' messin' up my brain
White light, Aww white light its gonna drive me insane
White heat, Aww white heat it tickle me down to my toes
White light, Aww white light I said now goodness knows, do it

Hmm hmm, White light
Aww I surely do love to watch that stuff tip itself in
Hmm hmm, White light
Watch that side, watch that side don't you know it gonna be dead in the drive
Hmm hmm, White heat
Hey foxy mama watchin' her walk down the street
Hmm hmm, White light
Come up side your head gonna make a deadend on your street

White light, When I moved in me intween my brain
White light, White light goin' makin' you go insane
White heat, Aww white heat it tickle me down to my toes
White light, Aww white light I said now goodness knows

White light, Aww white light it lighten up my eyes
White light, don't you know it fills me up with suprise
White light, Aww white heat tickle me down to my toes
White light, Aww white light I tell you now goodness knows, now work it

Hmm hmm, White light
Aww she surely do moves me
Hmm hmm, White light
Watch that speed freak, watch that speed freak everybody gonna go and make it every week
Hmm hmm, White heat
Aww sputter mutter everybody gonna go kill their mother
Hmm hmm, White light
Here she comes, here she comes, everybody get 'n gone make me run to her

call me ishmael said...

I think I like all of that stuff, junkyard noisy music, Waitin For My Man, especially, just the clattering jangliness of it. If that Lou Reed had any rock 'n' roll ethics he'd be dead by now, instead of being a pompous, professorial prick.

I met Bob Dylan one time, on the then unbloodied streets of Belfast but I was just a boy and he was so far out of his fucking mind that he'd left the known universe; I doubt if he remembers me; he'll be sorry one day.

Elby the Beserk said...

Ishstan - didn't you mean to write

"I met that Bob Dylan? :-)

call me ishmael said...

However one does or does not article-ise, as it were, Mr beserk, that or the bob dylan we can rest assued that he never played two saxophones at the same time, unlike that the a Captain Beefheart. Now fuck off with that apostrophe jihadism, you know what we think of that shit, here, in Ishmaelia. Any news, incidentally, on Dennis, the belligerent, pedantic hunchback?