A piping-hot buffet of sound.
Frank Zappa: guitar, percussion, some bass
Max Bennett: bass
John Guerin, Paul Humphrey, Ron Selico: drums
Ian Underwood: piano, all woodwinds, “organus maximus” (pipe organ)
Jean-Luc Ponty, Sugarcane Harris: electric violin
Special guests: Captain Beefheart, vocals on “Willie The Pimp”; Shuggie Otis, bass on “Peaches En Regalia”; Lowell George, rhythm guitar (dubious)
Composed, arranged, and produced by Frank Zappa
Author’s Note: This post corresponds to the Hot Rats anniversary episode of Vinyl Monday, originally posted 10/7/2024. Save for audio/editing jokes that cannot be included in a text format, this is a faithful adaptation of the review chapter. To watch the full episode, scroll to the bottom of this post or visit my YouTube channel here.
“That's where I got the idea for...the title for the Hot Rats album. There is a recording that I picked up in Europe that had – I think it was ‘The Shadow Of Your Smile,’ with Archie Shepp playing on it. And he played this solo – it just sounded to me immediately like there was this fucking army of preheated rats screaming out of his saxophone. That's what it sounded like.” – Frank Zappa, on naming Hot Rats
quoted from: Bill Gubbins and Ahmet Zappa, The Hot Rats Book (2019)
above: the Archie Shepp recording in question. I believe the "preheated rats" honk in question is around 45 seconds in
When venturing into the Zappaverse, you need The Album. Right?
Everyone’s The Album is different. If you’re a new Alice Cooper fan going on an Alice Cooper deep dive, The Album might be Pretties For You or Love It To Death. If you were a hopeless music nerd in high school in 1969, your other hopeless nerd music friend referenced “nEoN mEaT dReAm oF aN oCtOpUs,” and you didn’t know what he was talking about? You’d fall into the clutches of Trout Mask Replica. (You poor soul.) If you’re a 60s pop culture aficionado and meme on it just as much as you love it, The Album could be Freak Outor We’re Only In It For The Money. If you’ve just finished reading Pamela Des Barres’ book, The Album might even be Permanent Damage.
For most appropriately geeky but otherwise normal well-adjusted people, Hot Rats is The Album. It was for Simpsons creator Matt Groening! Here’s how he remembers the album wandering into his life:
“...it was an unforgettable day in October 1969 when the album first showed up at the Longhair Music Faucet, my local psychedelic record dungeon in Portland, Oregon. Frugally augmenting my $2 weekly allowance with my loose-change lunch money, I forked over the cash to the blissed-out hippie behind the counter, who warned: ‘I dunno, man, it’s kinda jazzy.’ So there I was, flopped on the floor in my sick little teenage bedroom...I dropped the needle and settled back for the ‘movie for your ears,’ as Frank promised on the inside gatefold cover. From the opening moments of that unforgettable drum fill, I was transported...mini-masterpiece Peaches En Regalia elevated my scrawny body into the air, spun me around like a propeller beanie, and melted my brain. Later on I learned Shuggie Otis played bass on Peaches when he was 15 years old. All I remember accomplishing when I was 15 was lying on my rug, listening to Hot Rats.”
quoted from: Matt Groening, “Hot Rats, Hot Cats, Hot Ritz, Hot Zitz, Hot Roots, Hot Soots: An Appreciation” (The Hot Rats Sessions liner notes, 2019)
Why is Hot Rats most people’s The Album? An answer in many parts.
It’s got a balanced, enjoyable atmosphere. It’s relatively restrained, but still has that zany, goofy energy. It’s silly, but not too silly, with yellow snow and all. It’s just clean enough to appeal to, but just strange enough to spark interest.
It’s technically impressive to both the average listener and the musician. On the surface – thanks to being one of the first albums recorded with 16-track technology – it’s a great-sounding record.
Get beneath the surface and the arrangements are just bonkers. This stuff is executed by a very talented bunch of guys, one of whom was a literal actual teenager.
There are two slight drawbacks I can think of; starting with the relative lack of vocals. It diminishes a crucial element of the Zappa experience: the humor. Frank always said he didn’t really care about his lyrics, I disagree. You can tell he had a blast with the double-entendres, occasional toilet humor, and goofy delivery. “Who was strictly from commercial...” We don’t get that on Hot Rats. The only vocals we hear on the whole thing are on “Willie The Pimp.” And if you’re looking for concise, to-the-point songs? Besides “Peaches En Regalia” and “Little Umbrellas,” this just ain’t it. The majority of the run time is populated by drawn-out stuff; jamming on a central motif with solos.
Though Frank was lazer-focused on the music, the music is not lazer-focused.
Immediately, we the listeners are presented with a new dish from the Zappaverse menu. We have a whole buffet of ingredients to choose from: tremolo guitars recorded at half-speed, bass, piano, pipe organ, and the iconic drums which tumble into Peaches En Regalia. As stated by Joe Travers, “Frank said Peaches is a song nobody dislikes.” (Guardian) I don’t disagree. This is The Zappa Song off The Zappa Album, and it is for a reason. “Peaches” is just delightful. That tremolo texture and alarm clock sound? Who knows how it was made? Are some of my favorite textures across Zappa’s whole discography. The tremolo is like a metal ball rolling around, zapped by stacatto notes. No one wrote a melody quite like Frank, and we have 3 quintessential Zappa melodies in one. “Peaches’” three movements transition into each other seamlessly, and each suit their core instrument to a tee. I believe Frank didn’t so much write for music as he wrote for his players. He loved writing stuff that was fun to play...if VERY difficult.
I’m partial to the 2nd movement; it’s one of the most late ’70s things the late ’60s ever produced. The flute reads as dated now, very late ’70s pop radio. But you have to remember, this was 1969. Pared with the funky bass, it’s not stale. Each time we return to a motif, there’s a new element layered in. The massive pipe organ makes the otherwise whimsical chorus feel imposing.
Yes, whimsical is the perfect word for “Peaches.” It shows we can ditch the pastiche, but we won’t lose any of the fun. And shoutout to Shuggie Otis for holding his own amongst these guys as a teenager!
After our little peachy parade, Willie The Pimp comes sauntering in. Vocal duties are covered by the inimitable Captain Beefheart, in his signature hoarse, phlegmy style. He hoarks, barks, spits, and splats through this song: “Hot meat! Hot rats! Hot cats! Hot zits!” With him on board, Hot Rats isn’t entirely without Zappa’s cartoony schtick.
Frank had a knack for writing arrangements for unconventional instruments (as far as rock-and-roll goes.) See the vibraphone, one of his favorite instruments to write for. On “Willie,” Sugarcane Harris plays a gnarly violin part. Having literally just covered Wetton-era King Crimson and referenced ’70s Jefferson Airplane in that episode, this song feels like an important precursor to violin as a rock instrument. I’m not surprised I responded to Willie, It’s instruments I’m familiar with played in ways I’m familiar with, wah-wah and all. Gail said “Willie” song was Frank’s “coming-out” as a guitar god. We hear the baby steps to the virtuosity to come.
That being said, where his comfort zone was non-existent as a composer, Frank falls into a comfort zone fast as a soloist. When he can break out of it, this song rips. I like Willie when it allows itself to be swampy and appropriately smarmy. This song is about a pimp, after all. When Frank played himself into a rut, I rotated my focus to other instruments: Ian Underwood's sometimes-distressed saloon piano, Max Bennett’s funky bass, John Guerin riding high on his sturdy drums. The breakdown before returning to the violin motif is the most exciting part of “Willie” Beefheart’s turn.
Rounding out the first side is Son of Mr. Green Genes. (Yes, there is a Green Genes Sr.) “Green Genes” is the exact midpoint between “Peaches” and “Willie.” It’s got the same classical sensibility and fun feeling as “Peaches,” with a lot of the same instruments in similar stylings – bells and all – with emphasis on the woodwinds this time. Where “Genes” differs is some more prominent, really great guitar work. I have to say I prefer this solo to “Willie”’s. Again, if a little long, Frank feels so much freer to explore here. He allows himself to glide on top of Max’s refined, but no less stylish bass. Paul Humphrey really shocks this thing into life in the last third with dizzying, precise drumming. The melodramatic flourish at the end has grit to it, making for a striking close to side 1. This stuff is no joke.
The humor isn’t all gone though. Little Umbrellas is rooted in the stereotypical funeral motif. You know the one. In Moon Unit’s recent essay for Newsweek, she expresses her love of her father’s gallows humor. This is very literal gallows humor! The funeral march played in a loose, kitschy “Arabian motif” kind of way. Thedelivery reads like a bobblehead sphinx you’d get after riding camels on a vacation in Egypt – around here I made a critical realization.
The tone of Hot Rats is the musical equivalent of playing “Knick Knack” at the MOMA.
Imagine this next to serious, high-brow arte and you'll see what I mean.
It’s irreverent, silly, kitschy, and self-effacing like that. Zappa wrote humor without dialogue, he wrote the joke in a series of notes on a page. And he chose a group of guys that’d deliver the punchline exactly how he intended. Man, I love music!
It’s what sets this album apart from other jazz “fusion” (whatever that term means) records of the decade to come. See Bitches Brew or The Inner Mounting Flame. They take themselves quite seriously. Zappa never does. Even without lyrics, it pokes fun at itself! In that sense, Hot Rats frighteningly self-aware for bleary-eyed 1969.
Other than the ha-ha funnies, Umbrellas is slick, relatively light jazzy fare with a fun swagger thanks to the rhythm section. The off-kilter harmonics between the woodwinds are both goofy and cursed.
Side 2 really kicks into gear with The Gumbo Variations. Sadly, I only have the 12-minute version of Gumbo, my best friend got the 16-minute on his somehow. (Don’t worry, I did seek it out! The long version is positively groovy.)
“Gumbo’”s main attraction, and undeniable MVP of the whole show, is Ian Underwood. He tackled all the keys and woodwinds, including the saxophone. The solo is equal parts goofy and greasy, with its wanton slip-and-slides up and down and hilarious squeaks. I can only wonder how on earth Frank went about directing that in the studio!
The chemistry between Ian, Paul, and Max is fantastic. Saxophone, bass, and drums. Now that’s venturing into jazz territory. Then you have Sugar Cane leaning into the foray before tearing up on electric violin. It was recorded a little thin. But absolutely no one playing on “Gumbo” half-assed it. By the time he’s wailing around, some tasteful rhythm guitar slips in to ground things.
Tunes like “Gumbo” are where Frank’s talents as producer shine. He can swap every combination of instruments out; arrange this mantle so it doesn’t feel cluttered. Correction: they only feel cluttered when he wants them to. See the ending: the crunchy chaos Zappa I’ve been craving.
We finish things off with the tune most indebted to the “jazz” half of jazz fusion. On Top 40 radio in Saudi Arabia, It Must Be A Camel. It begins in an almost Vince Guraldi Trio kind of way?
If those cartoon ads Zappa commissioned for his records were made into a holiday special, “Camel” would be the opening theme.
Frenetic drum fills soon kill the mood, as Frank directed them to. You can hear him say so on the Hot Rats Sessions. “Camel” is full of sour-sounding notes and awkward rhythms; equal parts incense and dung. The violin honks like a horn, the snare drum batters away, amorphous percussion ventures into that Varese territory Frank so loved. There’s some funky textures ping-ponged back and forth from the piano and I think vibraphone? Then Frank cuts in angular, sculptural shapes with his solo. Some fans online say “Camel” isn’t a great closer considering the pure power of stuff like “Green Genes” and “Gumbo.” I disagree. This song is quite strange to experience for the first time, and it is subdued in comparison. But it’s a natural progression from what came before.
In the words of Matt Groening:
“1969: What an amazing, confounding, delightful, fucked-up year...it was a pretty explosive 365 days for adventurous music. Leaving aside the pop hits that still dominate our elevators to this day, look what we got: Miles Davis’ In a Silent Way, Moondog’s Moondog, Yusef Lateef’s Detroit: Latitude 42° 30 Longitude 83°, Emil Richards and the Microtonal Blues Band’s Spirit of 1976, Luciano Berio’s Sinfonia, Don Cherry’s Eternal Rhythm, Gary Burton’s Throb, the Wolfgang Dauner Quintet’s The Oimels, Fred von Hove’s Requiem for Che Guevara, and one of Frank’s favorites, The Shaggs’ Philosophy of the World. And then there’s the nicotine-and-caffeine-fueled, voluptuously busy, and prolific Frank.”
quoted from: Matt Groening, “Hot Rats, Hot Cats, Hot Ritz, Hot Zitz, Hot Roots, Hot Soots: An Appreciation” (The Hot Rats Sessions liner notes, 2019)
Joe Travers continues: “There was so much activity swirling around his stratosphere: touring; recording; producing An Evening With Wild Man Fischer, Captain Beefheart’s Trout Mask Replica, and The GTOs’Permanent Damage; creating Burnt Weeny Sandwich (the album and movie,) and of course, Hot Rats.” (Joe Travers with Ruth Underwood, The Hot Rats Sessions liner notes, 2019)
That’s why Hot Rats is special. Not only could it have only happened 55 years ago, it could have only happened from Frank Zappa 55 years ago. It’s an event within an event, a microcosm within a microcosm.
This is a lot less goofy than our past excursions into the Zappaverse. It’s not rooted in parody. If you can’t stomach yellow snow jokes, this might be The Album for you. The focus is on composition; music over content. If you’re dipping your toe into the jazz musicians that inspired psych rockers in the 60s: Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Albert Ayler, Archie Shepp and his army of fucking preheated rats, this might be The Album for you as well. If you’re venturing into early jazz fusion – Soft Machine, Mahavishnu Orchestra, Miles Davis – this is a no-brainer.
Some of the figures listed above are such time capsule artists. They could have only happened in the 1960s and ’70s. Forward-thinking as he was, Frank Zappa could have only happened in the ’60s. But 55 years later, the rats are still hot by virtue of this being packaged, produced, and performed so damn well. If you want equal parts gritty and gleaming, whimsical and witty, smart but not pretentious, jazzy, funky, and wacky, with an elbow-jab here and a head bob there.
If you want a piping-hot buffet of sound, Hot Rats is The Zappa Album for you.
Personal favorites: the whole thing!
– AD ☆
Watch the full episode above!
This episode is dedicated to Christine Frka (1949-1972) AKA Miss Christine: GTO, beloved Zappa family nanny, and Hot Rats cover girl. Here are some outtakes by Miss Andee Nathanson/Andee Eye (1969)
"The photos from the shoot that day were so good. I wanted a mix of comedy and balls (while) saying something about female power, and the combo of me and Miss Christine really worked...(she) was quiet and playful. She was like a mime from the French film Les Enfants du Paradis. A Tim Burton character mixed with a silent film star..." - Andee Nathanson, on photographing Miss Christine for the Hot Rats cover