(Okay, this is the Sunday show, Reel 1.)
That's a really good beat that you have there. Ladies and gentlemen.
Just calm yourselves for a moment, because we're making a movie here tonight, and we wanna make sure that the cameras will get the music in synchronization with the picture and something terrible has happened to the intercom system.
Now, I don't wanna keep you in suspense for too long, ladies and gentlemen, but we've planned a really dynamite show for you. And we really don't want to— We don't want to fuck it up, ladies and gentlemen, so, just relax and sip on your beverages and, any moment now the curtain will go up and we'll be zany for you, so just cool it!
This is a recording.
I know what we'll do. We'll pretend like we're doing the show with the curtain still down, for the first part. We'll just play some background music until they get the camera fixed and then we'll surprise you.
Okay.
Good God, ain't it funky now?
You know, the Mystery Man came over
An' he said, "I'm outa-site!"
He said, for a nominal service charge
I could reach nervonna t'nite
If I was ready, willing 'n able
(Well . . . )
To pay him his regular fee
He would drop all the rest of his pressing affairs
And devote His Attention to me
But I said . . .
Look here brother
Who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris?
(Who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris?)
Look here brother
Don't you waste your time on me
Well, the Mystery Man got nervous
An' he fidget around a bit
He reached in the pocket of his Mystery Robe
An' he whipped out a shaving kit
Now, I thought it was a razor
An' a can of foamin' goo
But he told me right then when the top popped open
There was nothin' his box won't do
(Well . . . )
With the oil of Afro-dytee
An' the dust of the Grand Wazoo
He said, "You might not believe this, little fella
But it'll cure your Asthma too!"
An' I said, oh, really?
Look here brother
(Look here brother)
Who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris?
(Now what kind of a geroo are you anyway?)
Look here brother
(Peek-a-boo!)
Don't you waste your time on me
Napoleon!
I've got troubles of my own, I said
An' you can't help me out
So take your meditations an' your preparations
An' ram it up yer snout
"But I've got a Kristl Bol," he said
An' he held it on up to the light
So I snatched it
All away from him
An' I showed him how to do it right
I wrapped a newspaper 'round my head
So I'd look like I was Deep
I said some Mumbo Jumbos then
An' I told him he was goin' to sleep
I robbed his rings
An' pocket watch
An' everything else I found
I had that sucker hypnotized
He couldn't even make a sound
I proceeded to tell him his future then
As long as he was hanging around, I said
"The price of meat has just gone up
An' yer ol' lady has just went down"
Look here brother
(Look here brother!)
Who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris?
(Now is that a real poncho or is that a Sears poncho?)
Don't you know
You could make more money as a butcher
So don't you waste your time on me
Thank you!
FZ: Well folks, here's the deal. We're making a movie—there's a camera up there, there's a camera up there, there's a camera right here, there's a camera back there, there's lights all over this place—yeah, it's all make-believe. That's right, there's no film in the cameras, we're just pretending, see? So you just relax, and if the lights happen to go on on you, just pretend there's no film in the camera, because we may have you do something amusing later.
Ah, we didn't get a chance to ha— make one of those fantastic glorious entrances you know like they have in Hollywood, but I wanted to introduce all the members of the group to you. So, let's do that right now. This is Bruce Fowler on trombone . . . Napoleon Murphy Brock on tenor sax . . . Ruth Underwood on percussion . . . Ralph Humphrey on drums . . . Chester Thompson on drums . . . Tom Fowler on bass . . . And George Duke on keyboards.
All right. Now, what'll we play now? Hmm . . .
Audience members: "Peaches En Regalia."
FZ: No, no, no . . . No, we wanna play— we have some new songs that we'd like to play for you, I'm you. I'm just gonna . . . Uh, okay, here's, here's a group of three of them. The first one is called "Pygmy Twylyte." It's a song about chemical alterations and the corruption of youth—Hi, Elmer! Expert in the corruption of youth. And then after the, ah, song about the corruption of youth, we have "The Idiot Bastard Son," which is a song about, you know what it's about. All right. And then after, ah, "Idiot Bastard Son," we have another new song, it's about monster movies. It's called "A Little More Cheepnis Please." Okay?
As a matter of fact, maybe I should tell you in detail what's happening in "A Little More Cheepnis," 'cause the words go by pretty fast, but ah, some of you may be fond of, ah, monster movies. I am. I watch 'em all the time on television. I think the, the cheaper they are, the better they are. And, ah, the golden age of the science fiction movie was the '50s when they're in black and white and you can see the caves bending when they hit the caves, and whenever the giant spider came out, you could see the strings and you could see the, the fake— the pump for the drool coming out of the thing, you know. That to me, ladies and gentlemen, is great art. I get off on that stuff. So, if— really, it's shit, but it's great art. And then, uh, if you, if you get off on that stuff too, then maybe you can dig that song better. Anyway, here is "Pygmy Twylyte."
Everybody get in the groove. Oh, give me the tempo from the, the beeper. You don't where it is? Aha. All right. Let's guess. See if this sounds right. That about it? A little faster? Nuh-uh. Nuh-uh. One, two, three, four . . .
Green hocker croakin'
In the Pygmy Twylyte
Crankin' an' a-coke'n
In the Winchell's do-nut Midnite
Out of his deep on a 'fore day run
Hurtin' for sleep in the Quaalude Moonlight
Green hocker in a Greyhound locker
Smokin' in the Pygmy Twylyte
Joined the bus on the 33rd seat
By the doo-doo room with the reek replete
Crystal eye, crystal eye
Got a crystal kidney and he's 'fraid to die
In the Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Napoleon:
Sunrise
Get up in the mornin'
Feelin' all fine
Well, it must be early mornin'
Ah let me tell you what happened to me the other day
I got up
The sun was fine
Grabbed my hat, washed my face and hands
Put it on and tied it up
I take a walk downtown
[...] . . . everything [...] . . .To see how everything is doing
I ran into a man
Sunglasses on his face
Said, "Looky here buddy wanna tell ya something
Take you to a better place"
I said, "No no no no no no no no no no no no no
I'm feelin' fine"
He said,
"Do you wanna get high?"
I said, "No no no
I really don't need it"
He saidsays, "Ah yes you do"
He took out my a high school diploma
He I took out my high school diploma
Cut up a hole in a ol' rusty sock
Roll And rolled it up
I tell ya, roll he rolled it up
Cut [...] Tucked in a corner over here and there
And then he rolled it up
Put it in my mouth
Struck my a match
Lit it
I smoked it
Had to turn my head hat around
I started feelin' fine
He said, "Damn"
Doesn't make me high enough
So he said, "Here
Take this conservatory of music diploma"
He said, "You gonna get even higher"
He said, "If this don't do it," he said, "I got a diploma here
Full of college
College education
It's gonna turn you on"
I said, "No you're wrong"
"It's gonna turn you on," that's what he said, I said
"No you're wrong"
He said, "No, it's gonna turn you on"
I said, "Well then
Roll it up
Roll it up"
I smoked it 'n I jus' started dancin'
I said, "Hey
Still didn't do what you said you're gonna do"
He said, "[...]
Come on with me"
[?] . . . it He turned took me down to another man
A big hat on
Cape around the shoulders
Moustache all down here
Mixed up a magic potion
Smoke comin' out all over
He said, "Drink this, brother
You're gonna feel all right"
I said, "No no"
He said, "Drink this brother
You're gonna feel all right"
I can see people all over
Just reachin' grievin' and a-grabbin'
I can see people all over
Just reachin' and a-grabbin'
Time to get [?]. . . Tryin' to get to him
. . . showin' yer [?] . . .Kinda tryin'
Showing in this room
Kind of [...]
Had a— some . . . coke smoke in his hand . . .
He said, "Here, take itthis"
He said, "Here take some of these"
I said, "Wait a minute
I think . . . I think . . .
They gave me too much
I think it was . . . too much . . .
I think . . .
I think you gave me too much"
I said,
"The only way I'm gonna find out
Put some of this on"
He took the . . .
He took the magic powder
He took the magic powder
Smoke comin' out
The man with the robe
All people all around him
Givin' him this and that
Cocaine, Benzedrine
Another cat over there gave him a bottle of Clorax Clorox and said
"Pour some of this in there"
Gave him some Comet cleanser from over here 'n said
"Pour some of that in there"
Really fixed that other arm up real nice
So I said, "Go ahead
I'm ready"
Young man, tryin' to get ahead in the world
Wanna get a little experience
Hollywood
FZ: Dummy up.
Napoleon:
So he put it in—
Did you hear somebody say "Dummy up"?
FZ: Just dummy up!
Napoleon:
Did you hear somebody say
"Dummy up"?
He proceeded to put it in his arm
I said, "Oh
Wait a minute
I think you gave me too much!"
(Dummy up!)
When I felt better
. . . talkin' about I turned around
Started runnin'
I got as far as I can
They were harmonizin'
Reachin' and a-grabbin'
But I kept on runnin'
[...]
Whew!
I think I got out of here
Anybody see my hat?
Looking around—
Green hocker croakin'
In the Pygmy Twylyte
Crankin' an' a-coke'n
In the Winchell's do-nut Midnite
Out of his deep on a 'fore day run
Hurtin' for sleep in the Quaalude Moonlight
Green hocker in a Greyhound locker
Smokin' in the Pygmy Twylyte
Joined the bus on the 33rd seat
By the doo-doo room with and the reek replete
Crystal eye, crystal eye
Got a crystal kidney and he's 'fraid to die
In the Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
The idiot bastard son
The father's a Nazi in Congress today
The mothers's a hooker somewhere in L.A.
The idiot bastard son
Abandoned to perish in back of a car
Kenny will stash him away in a jar
The idiot boy!
Try and imagine
A window all covered in green
All the time he would spend
At the church he'd attend
Warming his pew
Kenny will feed him and Ronnie will watch
The child will thrive and grow
And enter the world
Of liars and cheaters and people like you
Who smile and think they know
What this is about
You think you know everything
Maybe so
The song we sing
Do you know?
We're listening
Try and imagine
A window all covered in green
All the time he would spend
All the colors he'd blend
Where are they now?
I ate a hot dog
It tasted real good
Then I watched a movie
From Hollywood
I ate a hot dog
It tasted real good
Then I watched a movie
From Hollywood
Little Miss Muffet on a squat by me, yeah
I took a turn around, I said, Can y'all see now?
The little strings on the Giant Spider?
The Zipper From The Black Lagoon?
The vents by the tanks where the bubbles go up?
And the flaps on the side of the moon
The jelly and paint on the 40 watt bulb
They use when the slime droozle off
The rumples and the wrinkles in the cardboard rock, yeah
And the canvas of the cave is too soft
The suits and the hats and the tie's too wide
And too short for the scientist man
The chemistry lady with the roll-away mind, yeah
While the monster just ate Japan
Ladies and gentlemen
The monster
Which the peasants in this area call Frunobulax
Has just been seen approaching The Power Plant
Bullets can't stop it
Rockets can't stop it
Grenades can't stop it
Ron Shuken can't even stop it
We have to n—
We have to—
We may have to use nuclear force at once!
C'mon, everybody! Quick! It might be your last chance!
C'mon, get up! Go to the shelter!
We got it right downstairs! C'mon! Open your mindsRun! Run for your life!
Go to da shelter
My baby, my baby
Go to da shelter
Go to da shelter
Go to da shelter
My baby, my baby
Go to da shelter
Go to da shelter
Little Miss Muffet on a squat by me
Can ya see the little strings danglin' down?
Makes the legs go wobble an' the mouth flop shut, yeah
An' the horrible eye
An' that horrible eye
An' that horrible eye
Go rollin' around
Can y'see it at all
Can y'see it from here
Can y'laugh till yer weak on yer knees
If you can't, I'm sorry 'cause that's all I wanna know, yeah
I need a little more cheepnis please
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis please
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis please
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis
(Cheaper the better)
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis
(Cheaper the better)
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis
(Cheaper the better)
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis
(Cheaper the better)
(Cheaper the better)
(Cheaper the better)
(Cheaper the better)
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis . . .
Thank you. Thank you very much. Thank you, and thank you.
Okay.
Now as some of you may know Hollywood is the best of all possible worlds. I mean, this is where it's all happening, you understand? See, it's really great here and it's a— it's so wonderful to be in Hollywood, to live here and to be a part of this community and everything, because there's so many perverts in it, you know? And perverts, perverts help to make normal people look good, and so . . . Just remember that, whenever you see somebody who is perverted. But for our friends in the pervert world we have this song which is called "Penguin In Bondage." And you know what I mean, don't you?
This is really a funky one, you know what I mean.
She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh . . .
Way over on the wet side
Of the bed
Just like the mighty Penguin
Flappin' her eight ounce wings
(Bring the band on down behind me, boys!)
Lord, you know it's all over
If she come atcha on the strut and wrap 'em all around yer head
Flappin' her eight ounce wings, flappinumm
She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Shake up the pale-dry
Ginger ale
Tremblin' like a Penguin
When the battery fail
(You know, when the battery goes out in the vibrator and everything?)
Lord, you must be havin' her jumpin' through a hoopa real fire
With some Kleenex wrapped around a coat-hang wire
She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh . . .
Howlin' over to some
Antarcticulated moon
In the frostbite nite
With her flaps gone white
Shriekin' as she spot the hoop across the room
(Good God, she spot the hoop again)
You know it must be a Penguin bound down
If you hear that terrible screamin'
And there ain't no other birds around
She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh . . .
She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh . . .
Aw, you must be careful
Not to leave her straps
Too loose
'Cause she just might box yer dog
'Cause she just might box yer dog
An' leave you a dried-up dog biscuit . . .
The name of this song is "T'Mershi Duween," a bongo number . . .
Thank you.
Brian, can you turn the horns up some more in this, this, uh, monitor box down here? . . . What? It's not in that one up there. It was? All right, turn a little bit up in the upper horns too. Bruce is having trouble hearing himself.
We're gonna do a song now about dental floss.
This song goes out to Mario, who makes a salad with his bare hands. One night only . . . What?
Ladies and gentlemen, I want you to watch real close, because tonight we're gonna try something we never tried before. Any of you who might know this song about dental floss, which is called "Montana," know that on the record there's a little section where there's some girls' voices that are speeded up and they're singing something really complicated, you know, and really fast. Well tonight, Tom Fowler is gonna play that part on the bass. And may the Lord have mercy on his soul.
Okay. Here we go. Oh, and then at the end of this song it goes into another song called "Dupree's Paradise," but that shouldn't bother you. You ready? Here we go. One . . . two . . . one, two, three, four . . .
I might be movin' to Montana soon
Just to raise me up a crop of
Dental Floss
Raisin' it up
Waxen it down
In a little white box
That I can sell uptown
But by myself I wouldn't
Have no boss
'Cause I'd be raisin' my lonely
Dental Floss
Take it away!
Raisin' my lonely
Dental Floss
Raisin' my lonely
Dental Flos
Well I just might grow me some bees
But I'd leave the sweet stuff
To somebody else
Ah, but then, on the other hand I would
Keep the wax
'N melt it down
Pluck the Floss
'N swish it aroun'
And I would have me a crop
An' it'd be on top
That's why I'm movin' to Montana
Movin' to Montana soon
Gonna be a Dental Floss tycoon (yes I am)
Movin' to Montana soon
Gonna be a mennil-toss flykune
I'm pluckin' the ol'
Dennil Floss
That's growin' on the prairie
Pluckin' the floss
I plucked all day an' all nite an' all
Afternoon
Oh, I'm ridin' a small tiny hoss
His name is Mighty Little
He's a good hoss
Even though
He's a bit dinky to strap a big saddle or
Blanket on anyway
He's a bit dinky to strap a big saddle or
Blanket on anyway
Any way
I'm pluckin' the ol'
Dennil Floss
Even if you think it is a little silly, folks
I don't care if you think it's silly, folks
I don't care if you think it's silly, folks
I'm gonna find me a horse
Just about this big
An' ride him all along the border line
With a
Pair of heavy-duty
Zircon-encrusted tweezers in my hand
Every other wrangler would say
I was mighty grand
But by myself I wouldn't
Have no boss
'Cause I'd be raisin' my lonely
Dental Floss
Raisin' my lonely
Dental Floss
Raisin' my lonely
Dental Floss
Well I might
Ride along the border
With my tweezers gleamin'
In the moon-lighty night
(A little tweezer glint)
And then I'd
Get a cuppa cawfee
'N give my foot a push
Just me 'n the pygmy pony
Over by the Dennil Floss Bush
'N then I might just
Jump back on
An' ride
Like a cowboy
Into the dawn to Montana
Movin' to Montana soon
(Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)
Movin' to Montana soon
(Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)
Well, I'm movin' to Montana soon
(Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)
I'm movin' to Montana soon
(Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)
I'm movin' to Montana soon
(Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)
Well, I'm movin' to Montana soon
(Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)
I'm movin' to Montana soon
(Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)
I'm movin' to Montana soon
(Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh)
Look out!
I'd like to thank you very much for coming to the concert tonight. Bruce Fowler on trombone, Napoleon Murphy Brock on tenor sax and lead vocals, Ruth Underwood on percussion, Ralph Humphrey on drums, Chester Thompson on drums, Tom Fowler on bass, George Duke on keyboards. Thank you very much. Good night.
Thank you. No shit! A hot one, ladies and gentlemen. All right, we have a, we have a song for you. Boy, do we have a song for you. This is a song which is also for the President of the United States . . . Uh, the safe title of it is "The San Clemente Magnetic Deviation," and the real title of it is "Diccie's Dickie's Such An Asshole." Now . . . all right, we would like to have you sing along with us, and, no fooling, we're actually gonna have a rehearsal right here and now and show you how the ending of the song goes. So I think you can grasp this. It's very simple . . . Okay.
DICKIE'S SUCH AN ASSHOLE
Sincerely, Dick, we mean it!
Wee-ooo
Okay. We'd like to try that one time. It comes right at the end of the tune. We'll show you where it comes in. You'd be ready to go, and they'll turn the camera on you and you can all say, "Dickie's An Asshole," it'll be wonderful. Okay. Try it, practice it one time, ya ready?
DICKIE'S SUCH AN ASSHOLE
Sincerely, Dick, we mean it!
Wee-ooo
All right. And now, the main body of the event. Okay, ready?
One 'n one is eleven!
Two 'n two is twenty-two!
Won't somebody kindly tell me,
What the government's tryin' t' do . . .
Dickie's just too tricky
For a chump like me to use
Well, you'd take that sub-committee serious, boy
You might get a seizure from the evenin' news, well
Well, millions 'n millions of dollars . . .
Much as he might need . . .
Frank, he could open up a chain of motels, people,
On the highway, yes indeed!
Quadrophonic desperation!
You know, there'd be a cable all under your bed
Well, if you just might break some wind in your slumber
The FBI is gonna get your number
GONNA GET YA
GONNA GET YA
GONNA JUMP UP THE SUB-COMMITTEE AND GET YA!
(Gonna get your number)
I'm tryin' not to worry
You know, I don't
(Gonna get your number)
I'm tryin' not to care
But you know, I get delighted
When some microphone's not there
Can't have no private conversations
Nowhere
In the USA
Can't wait 'til the rest of the people all over the world
Find out that their government
Is just the same ol' way
Well . . .
Let me tell you one thing right now
Let me tell you one thing right here
Let me make this perfectly clear
Let me make that perfectly clear
I had a whole bunch of tapes
I had a whole drawer full of tapes
I loaned a couple to a couple of friends
Loaned a couple to Bebe Rebozo (Bozo!)
Loaned a couple to Pat Boone (Boone!)
Loaned a couple to Ronald Reagan (Reagan!)
And loaned a couple to the new vice-president
He said he'd be on my side
He said he'd stand by me through thick 'n thin
Until they impeach me
And he said he'd never let 'em
He said he'd never let 'em do it
I said, "I believe you"
I said, "Hold down"
I said, "I never cheated on ya (cheat!)
I've never lied to ya"
I was
Always
In your
Corner
I was
Always
In your
Corner
But you know
Hold on
And there's [...] . . .
Hold on
(Hold on)
Gotta impeach
Hold on
Impeach ya
Hold on
(Hold on)
Hold on
(Hold on)
Hold on
(Hold on)
Hold on
(Hold on)
Hold on
(Hold on)
Hold on
(Hold on)
Hold on
(Hold on)
Hold on
Hold on
Hold on
Hold on
Hold on
Hold on
Hold on
Hold on
Hold on
Hold on
Well, you know what else the man said?
He walked up and he said . . .
You cheated
You lied
I Now you know you voted for me
Well, you cheated
You lied
But Now you know
I would never lie to you
No, no
Well . . .
(Make sure they get the words right to this part!)
The gangster stepped right up,
Kissed him on the lips good-bye
Made him a cock-sucker by proxy, yes he did,
An' he didn't even blink an eye!
The man in the White House—let me tell you somethin'
He's got a conscience as black as sin!
There's just one thing I wanna know—
How'd that asshole ever manage to get in?
Yes yes, this is the magic moment. Are you ready?
DICKIE'S SUCH AN ASSHOLE
Sincerely, Dick, we mean it!
Wee-ooo
Thank you and good night.
Mmmmore
C'mon, Frank
. . . rehearsal . . .
Coming to the Roxy very soon will be Lee Michaels, Poco, Genesis, Tower of Power, The Stylistics . . .
(Sunday night, Show 2.)
Marty Perellis: Testing. Your eight closest relatives: The Mothers!
FZ: Hello, folks! This thing wiggles too much. Hey, that's more like it. Hm-hm-hm, yes, okay? Bruce Fowler on trombone . . . Napoleon Murphy Brock on tenor sax . . . And vocals . . . Ruth Underwood on percussion . . .
(All right!)
Okay. The gong always gets 'em. Ralph Humphrey on drums . . . Chester Thompson on drums . . . Tom Fowler on bass . . . George Duke on keyboards. All right. Now, let me get myself tuned up and then we'll do a suave program for you.
?: Owen, a shade more sax in the monitor. Just turn it up, a little bit.
Girl From The Audience: All right, Frank!
FZ: All right.
Audience Member: Where's Ian Underwood?
FZ: All right. Well, Ian's busy. He's uh, he's with his parents in uhm, uh . . .
Audience Member: Yugoslavia.
FZ: . . . Florida. But he'll be back in town soon, ladies and gentlemen. Yeah.
Now, we're gonna open up with some— Hey! Brian Krokus, ladies and gentlemen, right back there! He is our mixer, and of course there's another mixer out in the truck and you can't see him but he's awfully cute, his name is Kerry McNabb and he can hear us talking about him, but . . . well, you're missing the best part of what's going out— on out in the truck.
We're gonna open our program with a song that deals with the subject of the possibility of, uh, extra-terrestrial beings visiting this planet a long time ago.
Now, Some of you might have read a book called Chariots Of The Gods, by Erich Von Däniken, and there's a little thing in there, it's a picture of this area in the Andes called the plains of Nazca, ladies and gentlemen. And, uh, there's these carvings on the top of the rock that you don't know what they're supposed to be for. It doesn't look like it would have been a road, because it doesn't go anywhere, and there's a bunch of 'em, and some people think, well maybe it was a landing field. But the carvings are very, very old and they're very, very big, you know, indicating that the people who made them were highly, uh, well, they were, heh heh . . . They really had their ____ together for the things that carved in the rock. And it's possible that if they were landing fields, that the things that landed on them were NOT OF THIS EARTH.
And so we have a song, which features the lovely voice of Mr. George Duke, and the name of this song is "Inca Roads." Take it away, George . . .
George: That's right, honey.
FZ: Simply atmospheric introduction.
Did a vehicle
Come from somewhere out there
Just to land in the Andes?
Was it round
And did it have a motor
Or was it something different
Did a vehicle
Did a vehicle
Did a vehicle
Fly along the mountains
And find a place to park itself
Or did someone build a place
To leave a space
For such a thing
To land
(Thank you, honey.)
Did a vehicle
Come from somewhere out there
Did a vehicle
(FZ: Her nipples are standing up now.)
Come from somewhere out there
Did the Indians, first on the bill
Carve up the hill
Did a vehicle
Come from somewhere out there
Just to land in the Andes?
Was it round
And did it have a motor
Or was it something different
Did a vehicle
Did a vehicle
Did a vehicle
Fly along the mountains
And find a place to park itself
Or did someone build a place
Or leave a space for such a thing to land
Did a vehicle
Come from somewhere out there
Did a vehicle
Come from somewhere out there
Did the Indians, first on the bill
Carve up the hill
Did a vehicle
Come from somewhere out there
Just to land in the Andes?
Was it round
And did it have a motor
Or was it something different
Did a vehicle
Did a vehicle
Did a vehicle
Fly along the mountains
And find a place to park itself
Or did someone build a place
Or leave a space for such a thing to land
Did a vehicle
Come from somewhere out there
Did a vehicle
Come from somewhere out there
Did the Indians, first on the bill
Carve up the hill
Thank you . . . thank you very much . . .
FZ:
All right. Does anybody here know where Palmdale is? You do? Good. Yeah, have you ever heard of a place called Sun Village? You— Some, some of you know where Sun Village is, okay, it's out in back of Palmadle, all right.
At one time that used to be a big place for raising turkeys. And, uh, I went to high school in Lancaster. which is not far from, uh, from, uh, Palm— Oh! Is it very good for other things out there now? Good.
Audience member: Can't hear your vocals.
FZ:
Ken, turn me up so they can hear what I'm saying.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is a song about this place where I used to live where they used to raise turkeys.
No, it's not "Montana." It's called— It's a song about Sun Village and it's called "Village Of The Sun," ladies and gentlemen. Here we go.
(Ready?)
(It's fastNot bad, huh?)
Goin' back home
To the Village of the Sun
Out in back of Palmdale
Where the turkey farmers run, I done
Made up my mind
And I know I'm gonna go to Sun
Village, good God I hope the
Wind don't blow
It take the paint off your car
And wreck your windshield too
I don't know how the people stand it
But I guess they do
'Cause they're all still there
Even Johnny Franklin too
In the Village of the Sun, well
Village of the Sun, oh, the
Village of the Sun, son
Sun Village to you
Oh, Little Mary, and Teddy, and Thelma too, now
Where Palmdale Boulevard
Cuts on through
Past the Village Inn, baby, & Barbecue now, yeah
I heard it ain't there
Well I hope it ain't true
Where the stumblers gonna go
To watch the lights turn blue?
Where the stumblers gonna go
To watch the lights turn blue?
Goin' back home
To the Village of the Sun
Out in back of Palmdale
Where the turkey farmers run, I just
Made up my mind
And I know I'm gonna go to Sun
Village, good God I hope the
Wind don't blow
It take the paint off your car
And wreck your windshield too
I don't know how the people stand it
But I guess they do
'Cause they're all still there
Even Johnny Franklin too
In the Village of the Sun, oh
The Village of the Sun
The Village of the Sun, son
Sun Village to you
You, oh, yeah, yeah!
Ladies and gentlemen,
Watch Ruth!
All during our program
Ruth has been thinking,
"What can I do
That'll be fantastic?"
Something nice for the camera, I hope
Ruth, show 'em a little something
Thank you! Thank you.
Excuse me. All right.
Ah, see, I think we'll do "I'm The Slime."
(Audience Member: One of those guards has taken my film away.)
Um, I'll play a guitar solo. The, the guitar solo's still in, and I'll cue it [?] . . . with something. The guitar solo at the end of "I'm The Slime." Instead of going straight to "Big Swifty."
Now, I'm warning you. When you sing those background parts that the girls sang on the record, please God, PLEASE GOD, MAKE THEM BE IN TUNE!
Ladies and gentlemen, we are making a movie of this, and uh, in case you were wondering, there's a camera there, and there's a camera there, and there's a camera there, and there's one on stage. I hope they don't get in your way, but we'll have some fun with them later.
Here we go, "The Slime."
I'm gross and perverted
I'm obsessed 'n deranged
I have existed for years
But very little has changed
I'm the tool of the Government
And industry too
For I am destined to rule
And regulate you
I may be vile and pernicious
But you can't look away
I make you think I'm delicious
With the stuff that I say
I am the best you can get
Have you guessed me yet?
Well, I'm the slime oozin' out
From your TV set
You will obey me while I lead you
And eat the garbage that I feed you
Until the day that we don't need you
Don't go for help . . . no one will heed you
Your mind is totally controlled
It has been stuffed into my mold
And you will do as you are told
Until the rights to you are sold, hey
That's right, folks . . .
Don't touch that dial
Well, I am the slime from your video
Oozin' along on your livin' room floor
I am the slime from your video
Can't stop the slime, people, lookit me go
I am the slime from your video
Oozin' along on your livin' room floor
I am the slime from your video
Can't stop the slime, people, lookit me go
Thank you! Thank you very much.
FZ: Hey. Can I get a drink someplace? See if you can give get me some water. It's hot up here, good God . . . That's okay.
Audience Member: "Bwana Dik."
Audience Member: "Camarillo Brillo."
Audience Member: "King Kong."
FZ: Okay, ten seconds . . .
Audience Member: "Brown Shoes."
Audience Member: "America Drinks."
FZ: All right . . . Sorry, we don't, we don't play that one yet . . .
Audience Member: "Willie The Pimp."
FZ: As a matter of fact, ladies and gentlemen, we have something that exceeds all of the above . . . I'll tell you about it, just a second.
Audience Member: "Peaches In Regella"!
FZ: It's not "regella," it's "regalia" . . . However, what it really is is a tango.
Now, listen to this, folks. We got this tune, see, that's, uh— You know, the, uh, tango as a dance of unbridled passion—I'm sure you're familiar with it, you know, the one, the one where you get to go . . . Okay? We have modified the, uh, tango somewhat in order to make it— bring it up to date, you know, make it accessible to a . . . a young contemporary audience such as yourselves. People who are obviously in the know.
Now we have, uh, huh huh huh— we have converted the tango into something that go— that transcends the tango form. We've combined the tango with be-bop and maybe even later a smoke machine, we don't know. We have some people in the audience tonight that, um— Well, they're friends, they've been around the Hollywood scene for a long time. I'm sure if they come up on tothe stage—(BURP) pardon me, folks—you'll recognize 'em right away. He he he . . . So . . .
Carl and, uh, yeah, there they are. Over there, folks. Here comes the tango.
All right. You ready? No, no [...] . . . You haven't seen nothing yet, ladies and gentlemen. This is Brenda, and this is Carl. Now, now, ah, you know Carl, don't you? You have seen— Stick out your tongue, Carl. You remember Carl? Okay. You may have seen him at Canter's. All right, now, Carl and Brenda, you're gonna have to, ah, wait, right over there, just for a moment. I'll give you the cue for the precise moment when you get to come out and do it, but, ah, we've got to get it going first, just . . .
Carl?: Okay, honey.
FZ: Thank you. Okay.
Audience Member: On the floor. Hard.
FZ: (I don't know yet. Ready? Yeah, we've— No, no, we're not doing Part One, just doing do the tango . . . With the bells. Yeah, the tango, the front part of the tango . . .) ?: (whispered) The tango.
Here it is, folks.
Too fast? You play it that fast, [...] the rest of you guys play it like this . . .
FZ: Raw, unbridled passion.
Now, ladies and gentlemen, as you might have noticed, Bruce Fowler has just attempted to complete a genuine be-bop inspired tango trombone solo. But Bruce, aside from being a fantastic person who blows on an instrument that goes in and out, has also worked up a dance that goes with this tango. Bring the band on down behind me, boys. Feet on fire. Good God, ain't it funky now. Okay?
Now, Bruce is, uh, limbering up the important muscles of the body that will be required for this part of our tango. His lovely assistant Napoleon will, ah, will work with him in the first part of this dance. Now, to accompany what they are going to do with their feet, George is going to take the melody of the tango, paraphrase it, play it and sing it at the same time.
Okay. Are you ready? Give it a whirl.
George: Jazz. Jazz. Yeah, man. Cool. Ya dig?
FZ: Stand by the strobe lights.
George:
This is the be-bop
Even if you think it doesn't sound like that.
FZ: It sort of sounds like be-bop . . . Now wait a minute. Give them another chance. Give them one more chance, George. You don't want to throw them off. Give 'em another chance, George. One more time. Get in.
George: Yeah . . .
This is the be-bop
Even though you think it doesn't sound like that.
FZ: It's sounding a little bit more like be-bop every— Look, look, c'mere you guys. Bruce, Napoleon, come over here. Seriously now. I mean, you know about jazz, you know how when it's really good, you know, you have to play with your back to the audience, and everything. Okay. All right. Really deep and sensitive, ya you know, and with a lot of notes that are not in the key, okay? Or even in the room.
Okay. The next step is we are going to attempt to have— Hey! Right over here. Into the area formerly occupied by Bruce and Napoleon. All right, now be very careful of these wires—Napoleon, I think it would be best if you moved all of your delicate equipment, just, because you just don't know what sort of unbelievable energy will be released once we get into this part of the song. Really. It's almost too sick to imagine.
Okay. Here's the idea. There, there is a beat going on like this. This is a regular, pedestrian sort of a beat, ya you know? Something . . .
All right. The challenge of this event, and this goes for Joni Mitchell too, is the fact that— Oh my God! Wait'll they have that on television.
The challenge of this event is for our lovely contestants to move their body not to the beat that's going like this, but to link their minds with the mind of George Duke. Link the— Link the important muscles of their very own bodies with the muscles of George's fingers as he makes 'em go up and down the keyboard, connecting his vocal cords to his finger muscles . . .
George: That's right, honey.
FZ: . . . which are connected by a mysterious cosmic link to your mind and your body, and you will dance to whatever George sings. Do you think you can do it? Give 'em a test, George.
Okay, you're a little slow, Carl. A little slow, Carl . . . Brenda, you're not even in the running. Okay? Do it. I'll show you, wha— Make me dance, George.
Okay, now look. You've gotta link up with, link up with big George. Okay? You know what I'm talkin' about, don't ya, Brenda? Of course you do. Good God. All right. Make them dance, George.
It's entirely too adagio. It has to be more frenetic, ya know, more, ya know, like . . .
Much better. Can we have a coupla couple of people from the audience to come up here and match wits with our, uh— A young gentleman has presented himself for this scientific experiment. Do we have a succulent young lady who will accompany him? Ah, c'mon. come on. What's your name?
Todd: Rudy Ann TayneeTaney.
FZ: What? What was that again?
Todd: Uh, my name's Todd.
FZ: Uh-huh? Okay. Todd. Todd. Okay. All right, now wait, just a moment, we have to— Hey, there is a customer right there! It's . . . almost too much for the human mind to bear. Quaaludes, ladies and gentlemen. What's your name?
Lana: Lana.
FZ: Lana, hey. All right, now we'll have to set this up just like it was in grammar school on the playground yard. Uh, you two guys work that area. You two guys, uh, Lana, you take the outside facing Carl. Thanks, Carl. Okay? Here and here, okay? You ready? Give it to 'em, George, and no mercy!
Carl, you keep grabbing her, Carl. No, faster, faster.
Now, you're sitting there, and you're saying to yourselves, "I could do that." And of course, you can. And now's your chance to join in our, ah, Hollywood be-bop experiment. All you have to do is stand up. Don't be shy. Just stand up. That's it. Just stand up. You are standing up, up, up. Each and every one of you is standing up. He is standing up, I know he is. Okay. All right. Now, I won't press the issue; some of you are too reserved for this, and may the Lord have mercy on you, but the ones who are standing up, when George plays his hot licks, twitch it, and have a good time, you ready?
A religious experience, right here in the Roxy, ladies and gentlemen!
Folks, I'd like to thank you very much for, ah, participating in that. It's good for you, really . . . I think I'm gonna play "Green Onions." Just keep playin' it . . .
Thank you very much for coming to the concert tonight. Bruce Fowler on trombone. Napoleon Murphy Brock on tenor sax. Ruth Underwood on percussion. Ralph Humphrey on drums. Chester Thompson on drums. Tom Fowler on bass. George Duke on keyboards. Marty Perellis on smoke machine!
Thank you.
FZ: All right, we're gonna play "King Kong" for you. It's also hooked up to "Chunga's Revenge" and the ending of "Mr. Green Genes," so, a little cheapo medley. Okay? Are you ready, Ruth? Hurry up, Ruth! Hurry up, Ruth!
Ruth: No!
FZ: Come on, Ruth! . . . Slow down, Ruth. She's ready.
Guy From The Audience: Freak out!
FZ: One, one, one, one . . .
That's no good. Ready? One, one, one, one . . .
FZ: Thank you very much. And good night.
(This is Monday night, Show 1.)
Marty Perellis: Testing. Testing, testing. All right, welcome to the Roxy theater. Ah, Mario wanted you to know that your green stubs tonight are good at The Whiskey Whisky after this show, and it's The Gangsters Of Love with Mason . . . And now, your eight closest relatives, The Mothers.
FZ: Hello. All right, we're still, ah, fixing things here and, ah, you know, you know, when it's ready to go, it's ready to go. In case you didn't notice, ladies and gents, we're making a movie here tonight and it's possible that, ah, later on in the program if we have something like audience participation, you'll be illuminated and . . . hey.
You know, it's really nice to work in a, a nightclub, you know. It's been so long since I've actually seen anybody in the audience, you know, when you play a concert, there's about 20 yards and it's all black, you know. But you guys look pretty good.
I'll introduce the members of the group now. This is Bruce Fowler on trombone. Napoleon Murphy Brock on tenor sax and, and vocals. Ruth Underwood on percussion. Ralph Humphrey on drums. Chester Thompson on drums. Tom Fowler on bass. George Duke on keyboards. And I'm Zack Zach Glickman.
Audience Member: "Dinah-Moe Humm"!
FZ: We're gonna open up with a song about dental floss. The name of this song is "Montana." It tells the poignant tale of one man's quest for a horse about this big, a bush of floss, the wide open prairie, and the sincere hope that the background vocals will be in tune. Hey! All right. Good God, ain't it funky now. Feet on fire. Are you ready?
I might be movin' to Montana soon
Just to raise me up a crop of
Dental Floss
Raisin' it up
Waxen it down
In a little white box
That I can sell uptown
By myself I wouldn't
Have no boss
But I'd be raisin' my lonely
Dental Floss
Raisin' my lonely
Dental Floss
Raisin' my lonely
Dental Floss
Well I just might grow me some bees
But I'd leave the sweet stuff
To somebody else
(How 'bout you there?)
But then, on the other hand I would
Keep the wax
'N melt it down
Pluck the Floss
'N swish it aroun'
An' I would have me a crop
An' it'd be on top
That's why I'm movin' to Montana
Movin' to Montana soon
Gonna be a Dental Floss tycoon (yes I am)
I'm movin' to Montana soon
Gonna be a mennil-toss flykune
(Look out!)
I'm pluckin' the ol'
Dennil Floss
That's growin' on the prairie
Pluckin' the floss
I plucked all day an' all nite an' all
Afternoon
Oh, I'm ridin' a small tiny hoss
His name is Mighty Little
He's a good hoss
Even though
He's a bit dinky to strap a big saddle or
Blanket on anyway
He's a bit dinky to strap a big saddle or
Blanket on anyway
Any way
I'm pluckin' the ol'
Dennil Floss
Even if you think it is a little silly, folks
I don't care if you think it's silly, folks
I don't care if you think it's silly, folks
I'm gonna find me a horse
Just about this big
An' ride him all along the border line
With a
Pair of heavy-duty
Zircon-encrusted tweezers in my hand
Every other wrangler would say
I was mighty grand
But by myself I wouldn't
Have no boss
'Cause I'd be raisin' my lonely
Dental Floss
Raisin' my lonely
Dental Floss
Raisin' my lonely
Dental Floss
Well I might
Ride along the border
With my tweezers gleamin'
In the moon-lighty night
(A little tweezer glint)
And then I'd
Get a cuppa cawfee
'N give my foot a push
Just me 'n the pygmy pony
Over by the Dennil Floss Bush
'N then I might just
Jump back on
An' ride
Like a cowboy
Into the dawn to Montana
Movin' to Montana soon
(Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)
Movin' to Montana soon
(Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)
I'm movin' to Montana soon
(Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)
I'm movin' to Montana soon
(Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)
I'm movin' to Montana soon
(Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)
I'm movin' to Montana soon
(Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)
I'm movin' to Montana soon
(Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-AyHey-Hey-Hey)
I'm movin' to Montana soon
Look out!
Work it, Bruce, work it.
Thank you . . . Thank you very much.
FZ: We're gonna do a new song now. Played it last night, but it's still new. This is a song about geroos gurus and how shitty they are. The name of this song is "Cosmik Debris."
What?
Okay. Here we go. This goes out to that short little, fat little, greedy little geroo guru we all know and love.
Audience Member: John McLaughlin!
FZ: Huh-huh. Whose name shall go nameless. Because he's so cosmikcosmic he doesn't even need one. And if he did need one, he'd have to go see L. Ron Hubbard, and he'd talk him out of it.
Ready? One, two, three, four . . .
The Mystery Man came over
An' he said, "I'm outa-site!"
He said, for a nominal service charge,
I could reach nervonna t'nite
If I was ready, willing 'n able
To pay him his regular fee
He would drop all the rest of his pressing affairs
And devote His Attention to me
But I said . . .
Look here brother
Who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris?
(Now who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris?)
Look here brother
Don't you waste your time on me
The Mystery Man got nervous
An' he fidget around a bit
He reached in the pocket of his Mystery Robe
An' he whipped out a shaving kit
Well, I thought it was a razor
An' a can of foamin' goo
But he told me right then when the top popped open
There was nothin' his box won't do
With the oil of Afro-dytee
An' the dust of the Grand Wazoo
He said, "You might not believe this, little fella
But it'll cure your Asthma too!"
An' I said, oh really?
Look here brother
Who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris?
(Now what kind of a geroo are you anyway?
From The Source, or what?)
Look here brother
Don't you waste your time on me
I've got troubles of my own, I said
An' you can't help me out
So take your meditations an' your preparations
An' ram it up yer snout
"But I've got a Kristl Bol!," he said
An' held it to the light
So I snatched it
All away from him
An' I showed him how to do it right
I wrapped a newspaper 'round my head
So I'd look like I was Deep
I said some Mumbo Jumbos then
An' I told him he was goin' to sleep
I robbed his rings
An' pocket watch
Everything else I found
I had that sucker hypnotized
He couldn't even make a sound
I proceeded to tell him his future then
As long as he was hanging around, I said
"The price of meat has just gone up
An' yer ol' lady has just went down"
Look here brother
Who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris?
(Now is that a real poncho or is that a Sears poncho?
Whaddya think?)
You know
You could make more money as a butcher
So don't you waste your time on me
FZ:
Thank you.
FZ:
Thank you.
Thank you. Brian, I could use a little bit more monitor. Hello, hello. Can't you turn it up any more than that? Hello, hello. Hey!
Good God, I'm up here. All right. Let's see, what can we do now? Mmmh . . . All right.
Pardon me, folks. The name of this song is "Penguin In Bondage," and it's a song that, uh, deals with the possible variations on a basic theme which is—well, you understand what the basic theme is—and then the variations include, uh, manoeuvres that might be executed with the aid of, uh, extraterrestrial gratification and devices which might or might not be supplied in a local department store, or perhaps a drugstore, but at very least in one of those fancy new shops that they advertise in the back pages of the Free Press.
This song suggests to the suggestible listener that the ordinary procedure, uh, that I'm circumlocuting at this present time in order to get this text on television, is that, uh, if you wanna do something other than what you thought you were gonna do when you fine— first took your clothes off, and you just happened to have some devices around . . . then it's— it's not only okay to get into the paraphernalia of it all, but . . . hey!
Guy From The Audience: "I'm The Slime"!
FZ: What do you say? Ready?
Guy From The Audience: "Memories Of El Monte"!
FZ: I have them. I bet you do too, don't you?
She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh . . .
Way over on the wet side
Of the bed
Just like the mighty Penguin
Flappin' her eight ounce wings
Lord, you know it's all over
If she come atcha on the strut and wrap 'em all around yer head
Flappin' her eight ounce wings, flappinumm
She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Shake up the pale-dry
Ginger ale
Tremblin' like a Penguin
When the battery fail
(Did you ever get a vibrator and have the battery go out on ya?)
Lord, you must be havin' her jumpin' through a hoopa real fire
With some Kleenex wrapped around a coat-hang wire
She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh . . .
Howlin' over to some
Antarcticulated moon
In the frostbite nite
With her flaps gone white
Shriekin' as she spot the hoop across the room
(Right through the hoop, without even feeling any pain)
You know it must be a Penguin bound down
If you hear that terrible screamin'
And there ain't no other birds around
She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh . . .
She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh . . .
Aw, you must be careful
Not to leave her straps
Too loose
'Cause she just might box yer dog
'Cause she just might box yer dog
An' leave you a dried-up dog biscuit . . .
Hey!
How'd you guys like to try that? Here's how it works. What— What we did was assign a physical action to each member of the group that takes place over a four-bar period. See? All I do is count off four bars. And on the downbeat of the fifth bar, you squat.
So, I don't have time to instruct each of you as to what you'll do over the four bars, but, why don't you stand up and do whatever you like over a four-bar period and then on the fifth bar just sit down again? Okay? Try it once.
Stand up. Don't be shy!
Okay. Any activity that you like over a four-bar period, you ready? Okay. I'll give you one bar for nothing. One bar for nothing. And don't forget to sit down abruptly on the downbeat of the fifth bar, okay? Here we go.
One, two, three, four. Go!
. . . Four, two, three, four
Five!
Okay, come on, try it again. Just go down on the— I'll count 'em out loud. You ready? Okay. One bar for nothing. Don't do nothing. Okay.
One, two, three, four
Start! Two, three, four
Two! Two, three, four
Three! Two, three, four
Four! Two, three, four
Squat!
A little late on the squat, but it'll do it. All right . . .
We have, ah, two new songs and one old song for you right now. The, the first song is called "Pygmy Twylyte," and it's about, ah, the nation's favorite pastime. And then, after that is an old song called "The Idiot Bastard Son." And then after that, then after that is a new song about monster movies called "A Little More Cheepnis Please."
One, two, three, four . . .
Green hocker croakin'
In the Pygmy Twylyte
Crankin' an' a-coke'n
In the Winchell's do-nut Midnite
Out of his deep on a 'fore day run
Hurtin' for sleep in the Quaalude Moonlight
Green hocker in a Greyhound locker
Smokin' in the Pygmy Twylyte
Joined the bus on the 33rd seat
By the doo-doo room with the reek replete
Crystal eye, crystal eye
Got a crystal kidney and he's 'fraid to die
In the Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
. . . hocker croakin'
In the Pygmy Twylyte
Crankin' an' a-coke'n
In the Winchell's do-nut Midnite
Out of his deep on a 'fore day run
Hurtin' for sleep in the Quaalude Moonlight
Green hocker in a Greyhound locker
Smokin' in the Pygmy Twylyte
Joined the bus on the 33rd seat
By the doo-doo room with the reek replete
Crystal eye, crystal eye
Got a crystal kidney and he's 'fraid to die
In the Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
The idiot bastard son
The father's a Nazi in Congress today
The mothers's a hooker somewhere in L.A.
The idiot bastard son
Abandoned to perish in back of a car
Kenny will stash him away in a jar
The idiot boy!
Try and imagine
A window all covered in green
All the time he would spend
At the church he'd attend
Warming his pew
Kenny will feed him and Ronnie will watch
The child will thrive and grow
And enter the world
Of liars and cheaters and people like you
Who smile and think they know
What this is about
You think you know everything
Maybe so
The song we sing
Do you know?
We're listening
Try and imagine
A window all covered in green
All the time he would spend
All the colors he'd blend
Where are they now?
I ate a hot dog
It tasted real good
Then I watched a movie
From Hollywood
I ate a hot dog
It tasted real good
Then I watched a movie
From Hollywood
Little Miss Muffet on a squat by me, yeah
I took a turn around, I said, Can y'all see now?
The little strings from the Giant Spider?
The Zipper From The Black Lagoon?
The vents by the tanks where the bubbles go up?
And the flaps on the side of the moon
The jelly and paint on the 40 watt bulb
They use when the slime droozle off
The rumples and the wrinkles in the cardboard rock, yeah
And the canvas of the cave is too soft
The suits and the hats and the tie's too wide
And too short for the scientist man
The chemistry lady with the roll-away mind, yeah
While the monster just ate Japan
Ladies and gentlemen
The monster
Which the peasants in this area call Frunobulax
Has just been seen approaching The Power Plant
Bullets can't stop it
Rockets can't stop it
We may have to use nuclear force!
Everyone is advised
To go to the shelter at once!
Wah! Run for your lives! It may be your last chance. Get up! Quick, come on!
Run to the shelter! Come on, everybody! Get up! Go as fast as you can! Run!
Go to da shelter
My baby, my baby
Go to da shelter
Go to da shelter
Go to da shelter
My baby, my baby
Go to da shelter
Go to da shelter
Little Miss Muffet on a squat by me
Can ya see the little strings danglin' down?
Makes the legs go wobble an' the mouth flop shut
An' the horrible eye
An' the horrible eye
An' the horrible eye
Go rollin' around
Can y'see it at all
Can y'see it from here
Can y'laugh till yer weak on yer knees
If you can't, I'm sorry 'cause that's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis please
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis please
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis please
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis
(Cheaper the better)
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis
(Cheaper the better)
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis
(Cheaper the better)
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis
(Cheaper the better)
(Cheaper the better)
(Cheaper the better)
(Cheaper the better)
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis . . .
Thank you very much for coming to the concert tonight. Bruce Fowler on trombone. Napoleon Murphy Brock on tenor sax and lead vocals. Ruth Underwood on percussion. Ralph Humphrey on drums. Chester Thompson on drums. Tom Fowler on bass. George Duke on keyboards. Zack Zach Glickman on guitar. Thank you very much and goodnight.
Announcer: Frank Zappa, ladies and gentlemen. Frank Zappa . . . Frank Zappa. [...], Frank Zappa and The Mothers! [...] You can do better than that. Let's hear it . . . Frank Zappa. Frank Zappa.
FZ: Thank you very much. Sit down and have a good time.
All right! It's audience participation time again, ladies and gentlemen. This time it'd be wonderful if you would sing along.
Here's how it goes . . .
Audience Member: . . . "Boy Wonder I Love You"!
FZ: Eat shit! Now look here. No, I didn't mean it, really. Now look. Cancel that for television, heh-heh. All right, ah . . .
The name of this song is, "Dickie's Such An Asshole"—and cancel that for television too. And here's how, here's how the ending goes, and you can sing along. It goes:
DICKIE'S SUCH AN ASSHOLE
Sincerely, Dick, we mean it!
Wee-ooo
All right. You don't need to practice that, you know, I'm sure you got the lick down just like El Monte. I'll show you where it comes. It's right at the end of the song, just where all those endings belong.
Here's a tune— Hey . . .
Good Lord, we're so professional!
One 'n one is eleven!
Two 'n two is twenty-two!
Won't somebody kindly tell me,
What the government's tryin' t' do . . .
Dickie's just too tricky
For a chump like me to use
Well, you'd take that sub-committee serious, boy
You might get a seizure from the evenin' news
Well, yeah, yeah,
Millions 'n millions of dollars . . .
Much as he might need . . .
He could open up a chain of motels, people,
On the highway, yes indeed!
Quadrophonic desperation!
You know, there'd be a cable all under your bed
Well, if you just might break some wind in your slumber
The FBI is gonna get your number
GONNA GET YA
GONNA GET YA
GONNA JUMP UP THE SUB-COMMITTEE AND GET YA!
Gonna get your number
The FBI
Gonna get your number
The FBI
Gonna get your number
The FBI
Gonna get your number
The FBI
Done got your number
The FBI
Done got your number
The FBI
Gonna get your number
The FBI
Gonna get your number
Gonna get your number
Gonna get your number
Tryin' not to worry
Tryin' not to care
But you know, I get delighted
When some microphone's not there
Can't have no private conversations
Nowhere
In the USA
Can't wait 'til the rest of the people all over the world
Find out that their government
Is just the same ol' way
Yeah, every day . . .
Well, let me tell you one thing right now
Let me tell you one thing right here
Let me make this perfectly clear
Let me tell you 'bout this right here
You know you put me in office
So you must have wanted me in office
I've did no h— harm
I've did you no harm
You know I'm not a crook
You know I'm innocent
I had twenty-five tapes
I only have ten
I don't know what happened to the rest
Musta gave 'em to a friend
Bebe
Somebody
Ronald
Somebody
Who
Was it?
Who?
Man, oh, no
Oh, Lord, it's gonna get ya
Oh, Lord, it's gonna get ya
Good Lord, it's gonna get ya
You'd better get down and pray
Good Lord, it's gonna get ya
Good Lord, it's gonna get ya
Good Lord, it's gonna get ya
You'd better get down and pray
Good Lord, it's gonna get ya
You'd better pray, oh, Lord, oh, Lord, oh, Lord
Whoa. Ah-hah-hah. Whoa
Listen here, mister, mister Dickie
Whoa
You cheated
You lied
You said
You'd lower our taxes
You cheated
You know you lied
You said
You is the oneYou'd end the war
Oh
We know you're not a crook
We know you're not a crook
All we wanna say is one more thing now . . .
The gangster stepped right up,
Kissed him on the lip good-bye
Made him a cock-sucker by proxy, yes he did,
An' he didn't even bat an eye!
The man in the White House—oh!
He's got a conscience—oh!
He's got a conscience as black as sin!
There's just one thing I wanna know—
How'd that asshole ever manage to get in?
Here it comes, ladies and gentlemen, sing right along . . .
DICKIE'S SUCH AN ASSHOLE
Sincerely, Dick, we mean it
Wee-ooo
Thank you very much and good night!
Announcer: Frank Zappa and The Mothers!
(Monday night, Show 2.)
Marty Perellis: Testing. Okay, your eight closest relatives, The Mothers.
FZ: Hello. Hey, what's happening? . . . Good evening. Hello hello hello hello hello hello hello hello hello hello hello hello hello. Okay. Ladies and gentlemen, Bruce Fowler on trombone. Napoleon Murphy Brock on tenor sax, and lead vocals. Ruth Underwood on percussion. Ralph Humphrey on drums. Chester Thompson on drums. Tom Fowler on bass. George Duke on keyboards.
Well, so much for our dynamic opening event. We're gonna start off with a, ah, a song that, ah, is about— well, it's not exactly about, but— actually, I'll wait until they're finished tuning up.
This is a song called "Penguin In Bondage," and it's about, um, not a real penguin, but a person that sounds like a penguin, and not exactly bondage, but a conceptual sort of bondage that, well, it's not really like tying somebody up and— well, it's just sorta like a bond of age with a penguin. You ready?
She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh . . .
Way over on the wet side
Of the bed
Just like the mighty Penguin
Flappin' her eight ounce wings
Lord, you know it's all over
If she come atcha on the strut and wrap 'em all around yer head
Flappin' her eight ounce wings, flappinumm
She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Shake up the pale-dry
Ginger ale
Tremblin' like a Penguin
When the battery fail
(You know when the battery fails in the vibrator?)
Lord, you must be havin' her jumpin' through a hoopa real fire
With some Kleenex wrapped around a coat-hang wire
She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh . . .
Howlin' over to some
Antarcticulated moon
In the frostbite nite
With her flaps gone white
Shriekin' as she spot the hoop across the room
(Good God, she spotted the hoop)
Lord, you know it must be a Penguin bound down
If you hear that terrible screamin'
And there ain't no other birds around
She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh . . .
She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh . . .
Aw, you must be careful
Not to leave her straps
Too loose
'Cause she just might box yer dog
'Cause she just might box yer dog
An' leave you a dried-up dog biscuit . . .
Thank you. Thank you.
I'd like to dedicate this next song to uh, John and Nellie Wilson, because they probably know what this song is about, better than anybody else in this room. The name of this song is "The Village Of The Sun."
Goin' back home
To the Village of the Sun
Out in back of Palmdale
Where the turkey farmers run, I done
Made up my mind
And I know I'm gonna go to Sun
Village, good God I hope the
Wind don't blow
It take the paint off your car
And wreck your windshield too
I don't know how the people stand it
But I guess they do
'Cause they're all still there
Even Johnny Franklin too
In the Village of the Sun
Oh the Village of the Sun
Oh the Village of the Sun, son
Sun Village to you
Oh, Little Mary, and Teddy, and Thelma too, now
Where Palmdale Boulevard, wo!
Cuts on through
Past the Village Inn, well, & Barbecue now, yeah
I heard it ain't there
Well, well, well I hope it ain't true
Where the stumblers gonna go
To watch the lights turn blue?
Where the stumblers gonna go
To watch the lights turn blue?
Goin' back home
To the Village of the Sun
Out in back of Palmdale
Where the turkey farmers run, I done
Made up my mind
And I know I'm gonna go to Sun
Village, good God I hope the
Wind don't blow
It take the paint off your car
And wreck your windshield too
I don't know how the people stand it
But I guess they do
'Cause they're all still there
Even Johnny Franklin too
In the Village of the Sun
Village of the Sun
Oh, the Village of the Sun, son
Sun Village to you
You, oh, hey, hey . . .
Ladies and gentlemen,
Watch Ruth!
All through this film
Ruth has been thinking,
"What can I possibly do
That will amaze everyone?"
I think she's come up with the answer,
Just keep your eye on her . . .
Ruth Underwood, Ralph Humphrey, Chester Thompson. Thank you.
All right, now, have a surprise for you. You've all been fooled. Now, that little thing there is nothing more and nothing less than the rhythm track of the next song that we're gonna play, which is a song about monster movies and it's called "A Little More Cheepnis Please." Here's what it sounds like with everything else stuck to it—you already heard the drum part.
Quick, mop 'em off.
Can they play it right a second time?
Ruth: A-ha.
Someone: Hey. Just play the [...].
FZ: Yeah, no, we'll just overdub it later. Ready?
Ruth: Oh, wait. No, I'm not.
Audience Member: What's it called?
FZ: "Cheepnis."
Let me tell you something, do you like monster movies? Anybody? I love monster movies. I simply adore monster movies, and the cheaper they are, the better they are. And cheapness in the case of a monster movie has nothing to do with the budget of the film—although it helps. But true cheapness is exemplified by visible nylon strings attached to the jaw of a giant spider.
I'll tell you, a good one that I saw one time—I think the name of the film was It Conquered The World, and the— Did you ever see that one? The monster looks sort of like an inverted ice-cream cone with teeth around the bottom. It's like a (phew!), like a teepee or . . . sort of a rounded off pup tent affair. And, uh, it's got fangs on the base of it—I don't know why but it's a very threatening sight. And then he's got a frown and, you know, ugly mouth and everything, and there's this one scene where the, uh, monster is coming out of a cave, see? There's always a scene where they come out of a cave, at least once. And the rest of the cast— It must have been made around the 1950s—the lapels are about like that wide, the ties are about that wide and they're about this short. And they always have a little revolver that they're gonna shoot the monster with, and there is always a girl who falls down and twists her ankle.
Heh-hey! Of course there is! You know how they are—the weaker sex and everything, twisting their ankle on behalf of the little ice-cream cone. Well, in this particular scene—in this scene, folks, they, uh, they didn't wanna re-take it 'cause it must have been so good they wanted to keep it, but they— When the monster came out of the cave, just over on the left hand side of the screen you can see about this much two-by-four attached to the bottom of the thing as the guy is pushing it out, and then, obviously off-camera, somebody's goin', "No! Get it back!" And they drag it back just a little bit as the guy is goin', "Kch! Kch!"
Now that's cheapness. Awright?
And this is "Cheepnis" here. One, two, three, four . . .
I ate a hot dog
It tasted real good
Then I watched a movie
From Hollywood
I ate a hot dog
It tasted real good
Then I watched a movie
From Hollywood
Little Miss Muffet on a squat by me, yeah
I took a turn around, I said, Can y'all see now?
The little strings on the Giant Spider?
The Zipper From The Black Lagoon?
The vents by the tanks where the bubbles go up?
And the flaps on the side of the moon
The jelly and paint on the 40 watt bulb
They use when the slime droozle off
The rumples and the wrinkles in the cardboard rock, yeah
And the canvas of the cave is too soft
The suits and the hats and the tie's too wide
And too short for the scientist man
The chemistry lady with the roll-away mind, yeah
While the monster just ate Japan
Ladies and gentlemen
The monster
Which the peasants in this area call Frunobulax
Has just been seen approaching The Power Plant
Bullets can't stop it
Rockets can't stop it
We may have to use nuclear force!
Wah! Run! C'mon! Get up quick! Fast as you can! Everybody c'mon!
It might be your last chance! Go to the shelter you want now!
Go to da shelter
My baby, my baby
Go to da shelter
Go to da shelter
Go to da shelter
My baby, my baby
Go to da shelter
Go to da shelter
Little Miss Muffet on a squat by me
Can ya see the little strings danglin' down?
Makes the legs go wobble an' the mouth flop shut, yeah
An' the horrible eye
An' the horrible eye
An' the horrible eye
Go rollin' around
Can y'see it at all
Can y'see it from here
Can y'laugh till yer weak on yer knees
If you can't, I'm sorry 'cause that's all I wanna know, yeah
I need a little more cheepnis please
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis please
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis please
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis
(Cheaper the better)
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause . . . wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis
(Cheaper the better)
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I want . . .
I need a little more cheepnis
(Cheaper the better)
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis
(Cheaper the better)
(Cheaper the better)
(Cheaper the better)
(Cheaper the better)
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis . . .
Thank you!
FZ: What light? Oh, no, we're gonna need it in a moment. You see, in case you hadn't noticed, we are making a movie of this, and we might like to have you people do something.
Okay, look we're not ready to do anything yet with the audience, maybe if they wanna be in the dark, turn the light off, you know? But we'll get 'em later, we'll get 'em . . . So, turn off the big light and let 'em swoon out there. Hold hands under the table. Um. Gee. Hmm.
Audience Member: "Dinah-Moe Humm."
FZ: No. I think, uh, just a second, how we doing on time? Does anybody know over there?
Audience Member: It's eleven o'clock.
FZ: Calm down . . . How much? Okay, because the last thing we're going to do is going to make a mess, I'm afraid. So, I just want to make sure that we do it at the right time; we, we do have a smoke machine and a bubble machine. We have some strobe lights, and we have some people who are going to dance on stage, and we may have a regular old-time Hollywood dance contest here tonight. And, ah, sure'd be nice if we could get some of you people into it, but it's too soon yet. We'll wait until about 15 minutes before the end of the show and then we'll . . . hey.
Audience Member: Ray Collins.
Audience Member: "Mud Shark."
FZ: Tryin' to think what would be the best thing to play right now. Any ideas? [?] ideasSome idea? Okay, we're going to do "Pygmy Twylyte," ladies and gentlemen.
"Pygmy Twylyte" into, ah, . . . [?] "Bastard Son."
Someone: Let's do what,?
FZ: Go right into the Tango. No, I'm not kidding. Just hold the last note and go dah dah dah dah. [...] Roll into it. All right?
Audience Member: "Greggery Peccary."
FZ: It's He's coming soon. Here we go. No, not yet. Oh hey wait a minute. That is a good idea. Pamela. Ladies and gentlemen, can you see this girl over here in the— Hey . . . Okay. Pamela Miller, ladies and gentlemen!
Now, let me explain something, uh . . . Have you ever been in love? Have you ever thought of being in love? Oh, there's all different kinds of love, Pamela Miller is so much in love that she is going to demonstrate how much in love that she is by providing a much needed element of— Calm yourself, Pamela. Heh heh heh . . . That's, that's not exactly in love, but just, heh heh . . . Let go of it for a while. It won't leak.
Now . . . You know, all the big rock & roll groups, with the cute people in it, they always have girls who'd come up on the stage and go "Ahhh . . . brrt . . . " and all that stuff. Well, we're a little hard pressed, folks, so, ha ha ha . . . So we're going to stage a low grade sort of cheap sort of uh, pseudo mothermania hysteria event. In the middle of this song. Pamela is going to uh, heh heh heh, eroticize Napoleon while he sings "Pygmy Twylyte."
Okay, here we go . . .
One, two, three, four . . .
Green hocker croakin'
In the Pygmy Twylyte
Crankin' an' a-coke'n
In the Winchell's do-nut Midnite
Out of his deep on a 'fore day run
Hurtin' for sleep in the Quaalude Moonlight
Green hocker in a Greyhound locker
Smokin' in the Pygmy Twylyte
Joined the bus on the 33rd seat
By the doo-doo room with the reek replete
Crystal eye, crystal eye
Got a crystal kidney and he's 'fraid to die
In the Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer mid—
What?
Green hocker croakin'
In the Pygmy Twylyte
Crankin' an' a-coke'n
In the Winchell's do-nut Midnite
Out of his deep on a 'fore day run
Hurtin' for sleep in the Quaalude Moonlight
Green hocker in a Greyhound locker
Smokin' in the Pygmy Twylyte
Joined the bus on the 33rd seat
By the doo-doo room with the reek replete
Crystal eye, crystal eye
Got a crystal kidney and he's 'fraid to die
In the Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
The idiot bastard son
The father's a Nazi in Congress today
The mothers's a hooker somewhere in L.A.
The idiot bastard son
Abandoned to perish in back of a car
Kenny will stash him away in a jar
The idiot boy!
Try and imagine
A window all covered in green
All the time he would spend
At the church he'd attend
Warming his pew
Kenny will feed him and Ronnie will watch
The child will thrive and grow
And enter the world
Of liars and cheaters and people like you
Who smile and think they know
What this is about
You think you know everything
Maybe so
The song we sing
Do you know?
We're listening
Try and imagine
A window all covered in green
All the time he would spend
All the colors he'd blend
Where are they now?
FZ: Now here comes the important part of our program, ladies and gentlemen. Give me a little atmospheric music, George.
Some of you may know that the tango—which is not a very popular dance anymore—was at one time reputed to be a dance of unbridled passion. Back in the old days when it wasn't so easy to get your rocks off, when it was hard to make contact with a member of the opposite camp, and you had to resort to things like dancing close together and going, hey . . .
Those were the days. Well, those days are probably gone forever—I don't know, unless Nixon is going to bring them back a little bit later—but we have this very special highly evolved permutated tango. It's actually a perverted tango. By the time— Heh heh. Yes, it's so perverted! This is the "Be-Bop Tango," a special entertainment event that includes choreography a little bit later, so watch out, folks.
You can turn on the big lights, we may need 'em. You know, the ones in the audience. Heh heh heh. Okay, you ready? Not too fast now 'cause I wanna get the right notes on the tape, and this, this has to be the one. This has to be the one with all the right notes in it. Okay, ready? And this is a hard one to play.
And that's why I don't play on it.
One, two, three, four . . . Too fast? . . . One. two, three, four . . . Too slow? One, two, three, four . . . No, no, you lost the groove. One, two, three, four . . .
FZ: The cowbell as a symbol of unbridled passion, ladies and gentlemen.
Now, as you might have noticed, Bruce Fowler has just completed some sort of trombone solo, based on the uh, idea of an evolved tango-event. Bruce has also prepared for you a demonstration of a dance that he hopes will sweep the ocean, right after the Mud Shark did. Bruce is now warming up the important muscles of the body, in preparation— in preparation for the Real Live Be-Bop Tango, which we're gonna demonstrate. Napoleon will assist him.
Napoleon: Wait a minute now . . .
FZ: Napoleon, just put your horn down, just relax, put your head back, here comes the drill. Okay, hah hah hah, you know what I'm talkin' about? Okay.
Hey . . .
This is sort of like jazz in its own peculiar way.
Jazz is not dead, it just smells funny.
Okay, let's go!
George: Yeah, man. Jazz, man, you know what I mean?
This is Be-Bop,
Even though you think it doesn't sound like that
(Be-Bop . . . ! That's no Be-Bop!)
FZ: Now, as you might have noticed, some of you with a musical education can tell that the notes that George just sang when he went, "This is Be-Bop, even though you think it doesn't sound like that," it's actually a sort of a twisted form of the theme of the tango itself which will get de— even more depraved as the number goes on. George will now attempt to dismember that melody, play it and sing it at the same time while—
Hey, that's the way—while we sort of dance to it, okay? Try it, George . . .
What do you think about that, Napoleon?
George: . . . Oh, yeah! . . . As I was saying.
FZ: Now, what we'd like to do at this point is get some volunteers from the audience to— I know you will, oh God, you will. We need some— Heh heh heh—Now, as a matter of fact you did, didn't you? No, we wanna have some people who've never tried it before, who've never even thought of trying it before. A boy, a girl, preferably who like each other, who would like to come up here and attempt to dance to what George sings.
Do we have anybody who's . . . ?
FZ: You're one. Okay, what's your name?
Carl: Carl.
FZ: Your name is Carl? Please, Carl, step on to the stage. Pleased to meet you, Carl. All right. Okay? Let's see, uh . . . is there anybody in the, in the back? Well . . . oh-oh, hey! What's your name? . . . Oh, wait a minute, we've already selected a male costumer! Ah, you can stay, it's okay, you can stay. We don't want to turn anyone away. What are your names?
Rick: Rick.
FZ: Rick, and?
Jane: Jane.
FZ: Jane? Rick and Jane and Carl! All right, here's how it works: There's a beat going on like this; an' that's a pedestrian beat. You can forgive a— You can forget about that beat, because that beat is only for reference. You don't dance to that beat, you dance to what George sings, okay?
The little ones, okay? The little quick ones, okay? Ready? George, make them dance!
No, no, Rick, you're too reserved. Ready? Give it to 'em, George!
No, no . . .
No, no, come on now, loosen up! Listen, encourage them! When it, when . . . Ah! Okay! All right, one more time: dance!
Let's study this phenomenon.
FZ: Now look, Rick and Jane and Carl, you, you're wonderful but you're just too reserved. Now . . .
Lana: I still can, Frank!
FZ: I know you will, maybe in a minute. Okay, I'll t— tell you what, go back to your seats and we'll bring up the next batch, okay? Carl, Rick and Jane! Okay. Uh . . . Let's see . . . Yeah, I will try you again, come 'ere . . . The what? . . . Oh, you don't know. All right, you wanna try?
Lana: I'll do anything you say, Frank.
FZ: Oh, my God! Awright, your name is Lana, right? Lana, dance!
Now that's more like it.
Would you get those glasses out of the way?
Lana, you're so good we have to bring up some other people to assist you. Brenda, imported from Edwards Air Force Base, where she— Ladies and gentlemen, Brenda, Brenda is a professional harlot, and she just got finished stripping for a bunch of guys at Edwards Air Force Base, and she made it down here in time for the show. Two hours of taking it off for the boys in the corps, really good. Okay. Heh. Brenda, Brenda has a lovely assistant named Carl, or Robert James Davis if you prefer. Herb Cohen, ladies and gentlemen! Okay, dance!
You're still too adagio, I keep telling you!
Turn on the bubble machine!
God, is that a cheap bubble-machine!
Ladies and gentlemen, Dunt's ex-wife!
Ladies and gentlemen, you're probably sitting in your chairs, saying to yourselves, "I could do that!" And of course you can! And now is your big chance. All you have to do—first step is easy, all you gotta do is stand up. Go ahead, just stand up. There you go, you are standing up. Yes, some of you are not standing up, but you won't have as much fun as the ones who are standing up. Okay, turn on the big lights so everybody can see what's going on. Yes, very many of you are standing up. Okay, get into the groove of it all. Now, link your mind with the mind of George Duke!
And when— That's it! When he plays those funny fast little notes, twitch around and have a good time with the "Be-Bop Tango," let's try it!
It's no good just to stand up and clap your hands, that's too pedestrian. Twitch around! Spastic out!
Now, wait a minute, you're not dancing!
Napoleon:
Anything you wanna do
All right
All right!
Anything you wanna do
Done and do
Is all right
Is all right
You came to the right place
Tonight
Yeah yeah yeah, hey now
Anything you wanna do
Is all right
Wanna do
Anything you wanna do
Is all right
Yes, there, guys, you know you came to the right place
Tonight
Give me some of that wine now!
FZ: All right. Now, look here. As you might have guessed, ladies and gentlemen, this is the end of our concert. We'd like to thank you ver— would like to thank you very much for coming, hope you had a good time!
Bruce Fowler on trombone,
Napoleon Murphy Brock on tenor sax and lead vocals,
Ruth Underwood on percussion,
Ralph Humphrey on drums,
Chester Thompson on drums,
Tom Fowler on bass,
And George Duke on the keyboards.
Thank you very much!
George & Napoleon:
Do anything you want to do
Tonight
All right (All right)
Do anything you want to do (Well)
Tonight
All right
'Cause the Roxy is the right place
Tonight
All right (All right)
All right (All right)
All right (All right)
All right (All right)
All right (All right)
All right (All right)
Oh, all right!
Marty Perellis: Okay, hold your applause for one second. All right, we can come up and do another encore provided everybody provides with the liquor laws, so pass any glasses that are on the table to the end of the aisle and Mario—all right, hold it a second—and Mario'll let us do another encore, so just—anybody with a glass, don't give the waitress a hard time, just pass the glasses to the end of the aisle so the bus boys and waitresses can get it. And don't say it's the last sip. Okay, and once again, Frank Zappa and The Mothers Of Invention!
Crowd: "Zomby Woof"! "Louie Louie"! All right!
FZ: Thank you!
Crowd: "Zomby Woof"! "I'm The Slime"! "Zomby Woof"!
FZ: No!
Crowd: Yeah!
FZ: Listen.
Crowd: "Louie Louie"! "My Boyfriend's Back"!
FZ: Ah, they're going to ah, reload the cameras and we're gonna do a special, 'nuther special number for you, ladies and gentlemen.
Crowd: "Louie Louie"! "My Boyfriend's Back"! "Louie Louie"! "Louie Louie"!
FZ: That was quite an experience. Heh heh . . .
Audience Member: How 'bout a golden oldie?
FZ: A golden oldie? Well, I'll tell you what. You know, we could play a golden oldie, but the golden newie is better.
Audience Member: Do you know any clean ones?
Audience Member: [...]Eat my shorts!
Audience Member: That's funny?.
?: Get the fuck outta here.
Lewis Saul: "Dwarf Nebula"!
Audience Member: "Oh No"!
FZ: "Dwarf Nebula"! Good God! Have you been there too? You know, people come to the concerts and they ask for unusual songs sometimes—most of the time people ask for normal stuff . . .
?: "Louie Louie."
FZ: "Louie Louie," that's right. But, you know, wha— It makes me feel really good when somebody requests a great hit like "Dwarf Nebula." You don't even know what that is, it's just an electronic piece on one of the albums, you know.
Audience Member: "Get A Little"!
FZ: All right, you ready to go? Hey! Ladies and gentlemen, our new special number, which we're using currently as our encore event, is something that has a certain amount of political import and implications, because it— it casts aspersions on the character of our President. The name of this song is "Dickie's Such An Asshole."
Now we don't wish to— we don't wish to offend any devout Republicans with our material. But that's just tough tushy, ladies and gentlemen. Now, if you'd like to, we have audience participation on this. You don't have to stand up. You can just sit there. All you gotta do is sing. And here's the lick, it comes right at the end of the song.
DICKIE'S SUCH AN ASSHOLE
Sincerely, Dick, we mean it!
Wee-ooo
Okay, you think you can maser that? Wanna try it one time? Okay.
DICKIE'S SUCH AN ASSHOLE
Sincerely, Dick, we mean it!
Wee-ooo
Yes, it's that "Wee-ooo" that really gets it. Okay, here we go.
(Let's give it right to them! Give it to them. I mean, this is going to them.)
One 'n one is eleven!
Two 'n two is twenty-two!
Won't somebody kindly tell me,
What the government's tryin' t' do . . .
Dickie's just too tricky
For a chump like me to use
Well, you'd take that sub-committee serious, boy
You might get a seizure from the evenin' news
Well, millions 'n millions of dollars . . .
Much as he might need . . .
He could open up a chain of motels, people,
On the highway, yes indeed!
Quadrophonic desperation!
You know, there'd be a cable all under your bed
Well, if you just might break some wind in your slumber
The FBI is gonna get your number
GONNA GET YA
GONNA GET YA
GONNA JUMP UP THE SUB-COMMITTEE AND GET YA!
Gonna get your number
The FBI
Gonna get your number
The FBI
Gonna get your number
The FBI
Gonna get your number
The FBI
Done got your number
The FBI
Done got your number
The FBI
Gonna get your number
The FBI
Gonna get your number
Gonna get your number
Gonna get your number
Tryin' not to worry
Tryin' not to care
But you know, I get delighted
When some microphone's not there
Can't have no private conversations
Nowhere
In the USA
Can't wait 'til the rest of the people all over the world
Find out that their government
Is just the same ol' way
Well, let me tell you one thing right now
Let me tell you one thing right here
Let me make this perfectly clear
Let me tell you one thing right here
You know I never lied to you
I said I'd lower taxes
I lowered all the taxes
I told you I'd be your friend
Always smile at ya
One thing I wanna tell you about
I had a whole bunch of tapes
And I had a whole bunch of friends
Didn't know what to do with the tapes
Decided to give 'em to my friends
Gave one to Bebe
Two to Ja—
Two to Ni—
Two to him
[...]Wouldn't help me
Then I sat down
Hold on now
(Hold on)
Hold on
Hold on now
Hold on
Gonna getcha
Hold on
Gonna getcha, Gonna baby, get down
[...] my Got a friend [...]
Hold on
Gonna getcha
Hold on
Gonna getcha
Hold on
(Hold on)
Hold on
(Hold on)
Hold on
(Hold on)
Hold on
(Hold on)
Hold on
(Hold on)
Hold on
(Hold on)
Hold on
(Hold on)
Hold on
Oh, yeah . . .
He cheated
He lied
He said he'd lower our taxes
He cheated
You know the man lied
He said he'd end the war, but he didn't say when
No . . .
Let me tell you one more thing to make it clear . . .
The gangster stepped right up,
Kissed him on the lips good-bye
Made him a cock-sucker by proxy, yes he did,
An' he didn't even bat an eye!
The man in the White House, let me tell ya
He's got a conscience as black as sin!
There's just one thing I wanna know—
How'd that asshole ever manage to get in?
FZ: Here it is. Are you ready now?
DICKIE'S SUCH AN ASSHOLE
Sincerely, Dick, we mean it
Wee-ooo
Audience Members: Zappa! Zappa! Do another one!
Anouncer: That's the end of the show for the evening . . . [...] Lee Michaels will be here tomorrow night. Poco after that, Genesis, Tower Of Power [...], and a lot of fine acts . . . It's quick quicker and faster to use the side exits.
FZ: Getting an awful lot of low-end rumble from somewhere. The Is it the bass?
?: It's me pushing up this his vocal mic mike to the point of feedback, to get that little to whistle.
FZ: Ooops.
?George: [...]Count it.
George: If . . . if that— If I had a Barcus-Berry on it, I could run it into the Echoplex.
?: I know.
George: Really do something.
?: Heh-ha-ha.
George: I'll run it into the Ring Modulator.
FZ: Ah, Paul?
George?: Wait a minute,.
FZ: Paul? We'll get you one.
Paul Hof?: Try that. That's probably got a higher output.
?: [...]The sound's coming out of the top.
Goin' back home
To the Village of the Sun
Out in back of Palmdale
Where the turkey farmers run, I done
Made up my mind
And I know I'm gonna go to Sun
Village, good God I hope the
Wind don't blow
It take the paint off your car
And wreck your windshield too
I don't know how the people stand it
But I guess they do
'Cause they're all still there
Even Johnny Franklin too
In the Village of the Sun
Village of the Sun
Oh, the Village of the Sun, son
Sun Village to you, well!
Little Mary, and Teddy, and Thelma too, now
Where Palmdale Boulevard, wo!
Cuts on through
Past the Village Inn, oh, & Barbecue now
I heard it ain't there
Well I hope it ain't true
Where the stumblers gonna go
To Watch the lights turn blue?
Where the stumblers gonna go
Watch the lights turn blue-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-wahhh?
Goin' back home
To the Village of the Sun
Out in back of Palmdale
Where the turkey farmers run, I done
Made up my mind
And I know I'm gonna go to Sun
Village, good God I hope the
Wind don't blow
It take the paint off your car
And wreck your windshield too
I don't know how the people stand it
But I guess they do
'Cause they're all still there
Even Johnny Franklin too
In the Village of the Sun
Village of the Sun
The Village of the Sun, son
Sun Village to you-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo, well!
Okay. Let's try that intro that we're doing on, ah, the first part of "Farther Oblivion."
Everybody! Everybody sing! One, two, three, one, two, three . . .
One, two, three, four . . .
Green hocker croakin'
In the Pygmy Twylyte
Crankin' an' a-coke'n
In the Winchell's do-nut Midnite
Out of his deep on a 'fore day run
Hurtin' for sleep in the Quaalude Moonlight
Green hocker in a Greyhound locker
Smokin' in the Pygmy Twylyte
Joined the bus on the 33rd seat
By the doo-doo room with the reek replete
Crystal eye, crystal eye
Got a crystal kidney and he's 'fraid to die
In the Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Be Feel all right
Done took the cure
Feel so good
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
In-a-the, in-a-the, in-a-the, in-a-the Pygmy Twylyte
Feel all right
Got a shot in this arm
Feelin' good
An' movin like that
Fast as I wanna
Got a shot in this arm
An' movin' like this
Fast as I wanna
All right
Well just look at my eyes
Don't they look nice?
Nice and healthy?
Nice and cool?
I can walk down the street
I said
Another thing
The doctor
With the cape
And the tall black hat
Taught me how to say a few cool things
Taught me how to say hey man
Do you have a number?
Taught me how to say hey man
Do you have a little snow, now?
(That's short for cocaine)
He taught me how to say hey man
Do you know what I mean by crankin'?
First you gotta tie it up
Oh, pusher said you gotta tie it up
Real tight
Slap your arm
Lookin' for a vein
Slap your arm
Lookin' for a vein
[?]Lookin' in the leg
Lookin' for a vein
Lookin' in the elbow
Lookin' for a vein
There was one there yesterday
What happened to my vein?
Now But now everything
Is all right
[...] My mama, she's on my back
Do you feel it?
[...] The monster's on my back
I can feel it
Green hocker croakin'
In the Pygmy Twylyte
Crankin' an' a-coke'n
In the Winchell's do-nut Midnite
Out of his deep on a 'fore day run
Hurtin' for sleep in the Quaalude Moonlight
Green hocker in a Greyhound locker
Smokin' in the Pygmy Twylyte
Joined the bus on the 33rd seat
By the doo-doo room with the reek replete
Crystal eye, crystal eye
Got a crystal kidney and he's 'fraid to die
In the Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
The idiot . . .
FZ: Okay, okay. Cut the tape.
?: That's it, folks.
FZ: Get Open the doors and get some air in here.
That arrogant Dick Nixon
His lies are a legend in Congress today
His nose got so long it could reach to L.A.
The ignorant people won
The pleasure of seeing their buddy get in
They saw his commercials and knew he would win
The Idiot's choice
Try and imagine
His august office recording machine
He's a bore and a prude
And obnoxiously rude
Wish he'd get screwed
Bebe will dress him and Billy will pray
His nose will grow and grow
And enter the world
Of bankers and fuckers and suckers like you
Who smile and think they know
What he is about
We think we know everything
Maybe so
The crisis thing
Will it grow? Up blow
Up everything?
Will this be the end?
Try and imagine
His bullshit advanced and extreme
All the time that he knew
He was pissing on you
Where is he now?
. . . start doing it now. All right . . . that was the last time . . . reroll. Hello? Hello? Folks? You ready? Is your makeup on straight? I look like a giraffe? . . . Okay, here we go. We're rolling now. Same thing. Two bars of 4/4 in front.
"Kung Fu," take whatever it is. One, two, three, four . . .
Okay. Hold it. Not good. Drums are not together. One. Ah, Cy, can you move a little bit, so that Chester's got a better look at, ah . . . okay. Tom out of the way? Here we go.
(101, Take 1.)
One, two, three, four . . .
Again. It's that, it's after de-de-la-di-di-di-lah, there's a bass drum thing that you both do together—it's not together. Just the— just the drumsets one time, just practice it. Right from the 5/4. One, two, three, four, five . . .
That's better. Okay, everybody . . . Yeah, it's much better. You ready? Here we go. The two drums, by themselves. One, two, three, four, five . . .
Okay. Everybody. Ready? Just wonderful, here we go. One, two, three, four . . .
That one sounded pretty good. Okay. Leave that one alone. Oh yeah? We got room for one more, before we have to change reels, if you wanna try another take. All right. Here we go . . . Okay. Rolling? One, two, three, four . . .
FZ: All right, honey. Are you in tune, Tom?
Tom: Let me check.
FZ: All right, check his tuning . . . wouldn't crack under this pressure. The Johnny Gang Johnny Guerin wouldn't crack under this pressure. Larry Bunker wouldn't crack under this pressure. Jimmy Carl Black would just drink beer under this pressure.
?: Only Ruth would [...] . . .
FZ: Ruth wouldn't crack under this pressure. We have to apply other pressure to crack Ruth. Ladies and gentlemen, crack Ruth.
We're getting a— Yeah, we've got a fuzz tone out of the keyboards again. Do that chord, George . . .
?: Do that same chord at night . . .
FZ: Do the chord again. George, the chord of mystery again, please . . . Okay . . .
I can't tell. We're trying to get that noise out of the piano. George, give me the tuning note and lemme check it . . . Tuning note . . . Weird to me, it's wobbly . . . Put your phones on, listen to him, and see if you can hear the beat . . . What do you shank? He-he-he.
?: Pardon me?
FZ: Same as those, only they work faster . . . Peak level . . . Well, you can't tell whether you're getting peak distortion at that level. All right, who? To tune up the band? What a great job. Hey, I just thought of another job for Charlie.
?: What?
FZ: I'll tell you later. No. Can he count good? Yeah, but doe she does he have a good beat? He does. I was just thinking that maybe he'd be interested in running the lights . . . Yeah? Oh, he is? Oh, I see, well, then we'll just have to forget about it.
?: No, no!
FZ: No, no, I'm sorry I brought it up. Okay. Are we in tune yet, Tom? Okay, good. Before Ruth peaks under pressure. Ladies and gentlemen, go back to the break. Ready? One, two, three, four . . .
Sure, why not? Can we get some film on this?
You can put some fills in there too, Ralph . . . NoYou know, shots and, you know, things that jump out.
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
Dreamed I was . . .
No, it's just "No no." Yeah, four of 'em. Okay, are we gonna have film on this, or what?
That too fast? One, two, three, four . . .
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
Dreamed I was an Eskimo
Frozen wind began to blow
Under my boots 'n around my toe
Frost had bit the ground below
An' the Northern Lites commenced t' glow
Hold it. That's a good tempo. Hey Marty, can you bring my cigarettes out here? . . . Better tune that. Better tune that. The— The lower note . . . Well, let's make it go in . . . That doesn't sound— The, the last octave before that didn't sound in tune, Tom . . . The lower ones sounds out . . . Sure do. Just pass it around.
Rox, just a dab.
Get a slate! . . . "No, no, don't eat it" . . . "Peek-a-boo" . . . Yeah. "Peek-a-boo" first . . . Hey, very fine [?] . . . gentlemen, for the camera. Barry Feinstein, ladies and gentlemen, the camera. Take a bow, Barry. Very good, Barry.
Ladies and gentlemen, we're just about to record the first studio version of "Don't Eat The Yellow Snow," "St. Alfonzo's Pancake Breakfast," and whatever comes after that, that if we don't make mistakes on while we're doing it. All right, what is this here? Is this, no. Okay, that ain't what I had in mid. AlrightAll right. Let's, hello? Ruth, too. Here we go. Top.
One, two, one, two . . .
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
Again. Again! Hello! Here we go.
Just keep it— Yeah. Just keep it like four bars and then do that, "No no, don't eat it." And I'm not gonna sing on, so that I'll have a breath when I come up with my part. Okay? One, two, one, two . . .
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
Dreamed I was an Eskimo
Frozen wind began to blow
Under my boots and around my toe
Frost had bit the ground below
Was a hundred degrees below zero
And my momma cried (Nanook!)
And my momma cried (Nanook!)
And my momma cried (Oh no!)
She said, No! (Oh no!)
I knew she loved me (Oh no!)
She said, No no (No, no no . . .)
Well I turned around and I said, Ho ho
And the Northern Lites commenced to glow
And she looked at me with a tear in her eye and she said . . .
Oh, wait a minute, I forgot it . . . "Save your money, don't go to the show . . . " Oh, shit!
Haven't done this in a while. Okay. Do it again.
(Napoleon: Save your money, don't go to the show)
Save your money, don't go to the show
What? . . . Yeah. Well, yeah, I'll go and she said, dunt-dunt-dunt da dunt-dunt-da. Okay? Runt-tun-tun-uh hen-nen-hun. Okay, can I have just a little bit more of my vocal in the phones, please? Hello? Hello? A little more? I don't know. Hello? Hello? Okay, hey! Good God. All right, let's do it. Here we go. What do you got, honey? . . . Hah hah hah . . . You got one of those things stuck in your throat, George? Here we go. One, two, one, two . . .
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
No . . .
Oh, come on now, come on. Why don't you do the low part?
No no, don't eat it
No no . . .
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
No no . . .
That's better.
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it . . .
Yeah, yeah, keep going.
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
Do it like Nixon. Shake your cheeks!
No . . .
No . . .
No . . .
No, no, no . . .
Can you do that, George? . . . Hah hah hah . . .
"I am not an Eskimo." (Hah hah hah . . .) Good. One, two, one, two . . .
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
Dreamed I was an Eskimo
Hey, that was good, but I forgot the words. Here we go. One, two, one, two . . .
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
One more.
Give 'em two bars, not four, and then come in. Okay? All right.
Get a tail slate before you stop it. Don't—Remember, don't stop the— Heh, you already stopped it.
Give the camera a change chance to get an end slate before you stop the tape, okay? Better look at the light, Barry. All right, you rolling? All right, hold it, now listen! Let's— Now that we got the 16-track, you guys both gotta shoot the light again, so that we got a sync on there.
(Ruth: What are we doing . . .)
We're gonna do "Yellow Snow" again.
(Ruth: Oh boy.)
You wanna flash 'em, Francis?
(Wait a minute. Wait a minute.)
Oh no . . . Where's it coming from? . . . Okay, here we go. Here we go. One, two, one, two . . .
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
No no, don't eat it
Dreamed I was an Eskimo
Frozen wind began to blow
Under my boots and around my toe
Frost had bit the ground below
Was a hundred degrees below zero
And my momma cried (Nanook!)
And my momma cried (Nanook!)
My momma cried (No no!)
My momma cried (No no no no!)
She said, save your money, don't go to the show
An' I turned around an' I said, Ho ho
An' the Northern Lites commenced t' glow
An' she looked at me with a tear in her eye and she said . . .
Watch out where the huskies go
An' don't you eat that yellow snow
Watch out where the huskies go
An' don't you eat that yellow snow
Well right about that time, people
A fur trapper
Who was strictly from commercial
(Strictly Commershil)
Had the unmedicated audacity to jump up from behind my igyaloo
(Peek-a-boo)
And started in to whippin' on my fav'rite baby seal
With a lead-filled snow shoe . . . I said . . .
With a lead
(Lead)
Filled
(Lead-filled)
With a lead-filled snow shoe
(Snow shoe)
He said Peak-a-boo
(Peek-a-boo)
He said, with a lead
(Lead)
He said, Whap!, with a lead
(Lead-filled)
Right upside the head with a lead-filled snow shoe
(Snow shoe)
He said Peak-a-boo with my favorite magazinebaby seal
(Peek-a-boo, Peek-a-boo)
He hit him upside the head 'n he hit him on the fin 'n he . . .
Well, he caused some terrible damage to my favorite baby seal
An' so I . . .
FZ: Heh heh, I forgot what I did there . . . What do I do there? Do I reach down there?
Ruth: You pounce!
FZ: I what?
Ruth: Pounce!
FZ: Oh yeah, and so . . .
Bruce?: No, you gotta reach down and . . .before you pounce.
FZ: Oh yeah. That's what I thought.
And so I . . .
I reached down with my genuine Nanook of the North
Patented whale blubber mitten
An' I reached down 'n I scooped down 'n I bent down
An' I gathered up a generous mitten full of the deadly
(Yellow Snow)
The deadly Yellow Snow from right there where the huskies go
And then I proceeded to rub it all into his beady little eyes
With a vigorous circular motion
Hitherto unknown to the citizens of this area
But destined to supplant The Mud Shark
In your mythology
Here it is, ladies and gentlemen, take it away . . .
And then I, in a fit of anger, I . . .
I pounced
And I pounced again
And I jumped up 'n down on the chest of the . . .
And I jumped up 'n down on the chest of the . . .
And I jumped up 'n down on the chest of the . . .
In the back of the bus now
Peek-a-boo
I injured the fur trapper
Well, the fur trapper had a lot of trouble at that point
He put his hand up in front of his face
And he looked directly into the camera
And he said . . .
I can't see
(I can't see temporarily)
I can't see
(I can't see temporarily)
Oh woe is me
(I can't see temporarily)
What if there's something good on TV and I can't see?
(I can't see temporarily)
He took a dog-doo sno-cone
An' stuffed it in my right eye
He took a dog-doo sno-cone
An' stuffed it in my other eye
An' the huskie wee-wee
Has blinded me
Temporarily
And, good God, I can't see!
The fur trafter . . .
The fur trafter
With the deflicted fur—
With the . . . deflicted trafter
(Ha ha ha . . . Ha ha . . .)
The fur trafter . . .
Well, anyway, ladies and gentlemen
He decided that he had to do something about his eyes
Seeing as how they were so messed up
So he reached up with a pencil
Underneath of his parka
And he started rubbing underneath of his parka
Just like Tina does underneath of her wig
Whenever it gets damp and itchy
And he tried to figure out exactly what he was going to do about fixing it up
And then he remembered an ancient legend that he had heard
About two o'clock in the morning
Just as the D leaked into the Clavinet
Huh-huh-huh
He remembered an ancient Eskimo legend
Wherein it is written on whatever they write it on
That if you ever have something wrong with your eyes
As a result of some sort of mysterious conflict
With an Eskimo named Nanook
Whose mother has informed him that it is not wise
To spend his money and go to the show
The thing you have to do is go trudgin' across the tundra
Mile after mile
All the way down to the parish of Saint Alfonzo
Saint Alfonzo is the patron saint of the smelt fishermen of Portuguese extraction
And his parish is located down there in the Columbia River delta
Where it is really funky, ladies and gentlemen
And he's gotta sneak into the Saint Alfonzo parish pantry
And he's gotta locate a mysterious elixir disguised as a box of mar-juh-rene
And he's supposed to grab the mar-juh-rene
And rub it on his deflicted eyes
Thereby affecting some sort of miraculous cure
In the next episode
We find the fur trapper
In Part Two of our adventure
And it goes like this
Look out!
Well, here we are . . .
No, it's "Here we are," bump!
At Saint Alfonzo's Pancake Breakfast
Where I stole the mar-juh-rene
An' widdled on the Bingo Cards in lieu of the latrine
I saw a handsome parish lady
Make her entrance like a queen
Why she was totally chenille
And her old man was a Marine
As she abused a sausage pattie
And said why don't you treat me mean?
(Hurt me, hurt me, hurt me, oooooh, oooooh!)
Absolutely inexcusable. Let's go back— go back to the beginning of "St. Alfonzo."
Well, here we are . . .
At Saint Alfonzo's Pancake Breakfast
Where I stole the mar-juh-rene
An' widdled on the Bingo Cards in lieu of the latrine
I saw a handsome parish lady
Make her entrance like a queen
Why she was totally chenille
And her old man was a Marine
As she abused a sausage pattie
And said why don't you treat me mean?
(Hurt me, hurt me, hurt me, oooooh, oooooh!)
At Saint Alfonzo's Pancake Breakfast
(Hah! Good God! Get off the bus!)
Where I stole the mar-juh-rene
Father Vivian O'Blivion
Resplendent to his frock
He was whipping up the batter
For the pancakes of his flock
He was looking rather bleary
(He forgot to watch his clock)
The night before
Behind the door
A leprechaun had stroked
The night before
Behind the door
A leprechaun had stroked
The night before
Behind the door
A leprechaun had stroked his
Sma-ah-ah ah-ah-ah aAh-ah-ah ah-ah-ah
Ah-ah-ah ah-ah-ah ah-ah-ah ahhh
Which set him off in such a frenzy
He sang Lock Around The Crock
An' he topped it off with a . . .
An' he topped it off with a . . .
An' he topped it off with a . . .
Woo woo woo
Woo woo woo
Woo woo woo
Woo . . .
Oh, Saint Alfonzo would/should be proud of me
(Proud of me)
He shouted down the block
Dominus Vo-bisque 'em
Et come spear a tu-tu, oh!
Won't you eat my sleazy pancakes
Just for Saintly Alfonzo
They're so light 'n fluffy-white
We'll raise a fortune by tonite
They're so light 'n fluffy-white
We'll raise a fortune by tonite
They're so light 'n fluffy-brown
They're the finest in the town
They're so light 'n fluffy-brown
They're the finest in the town
(Good morning, your Highness
I brought you your snow shoes)
(Ha ha ha ha!)
Ha ha ha. Stop the tape.
This is the Be-Bop version of "Rollo." One, two, three, one, two . . .
Take two. One, two, three, one, two . . .
Sickness. That was good!
All right, here's, here's where we're— We're going this far, the first instrumental introduction and the vocal, and then the first few bars of the section after that, and then cut, and we'll do that sequence a couple of times. You understand? We're not going straight through the song. We're just doin' the first two choruses of it, and then stopping, and then . . . Right. Here we go.
Yeah, you make the change . . . stop.
Green hocker croakin'
In the Pygmy Twylyte
Crankin' an' a-coke'n
In the Winchell's do-nut Midnite
Out of his deep on a 'fore day run
Hurtin' for sleep in the Quaalude Moonlight
Green hocker in a Greyhound locker
Smokin' in the Pygmy Twylyte
Joined the bus on the 33rd seat
By the doo-doo room with the reek replete
Crystal eye, crystal eye
Got a crystal kidney and he's 'fraid to die
In the Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Napoleon:
Sunrise
Get up in the mornin'
You know, I think it's mornin'
Sun is shinin' bright
I'm gonna get outside
I'm gonna wash my face
'N grab my hat
Put it on my head
I take a walk downtown
Yeah-hey . . .
Because I feel so-oh good
I think I'm gonna take a walk downtown
Hey! Sunlight!
Whoa!
Somethin' I never seen before
Been a-walkin' down the street every day
Nobody like you ever passed my way
Maybe there must be too much sun
Couldn't be my hat, must be too much . . .
Wait a minute!
What's that you . . . ?
What's that?
What . . . ?
What's that?
What . . . ?
What's that?
What . . . ?
Wait a . . .
What is that?
Jeff:
Dummy Up
Napoleon:
What is that?
I know what that is, I know what that is . . .
I bet you that's a restaurant menu . . .
Let me see!
Let me see!
I don't wanna have any food
I wanna walk downtown
Wait a minute!
You're a strange looking fellow!
FZ: The corruption of American youth.
Napoleon: But I like the way you move!
FZ: Ladies and gentlemen, Napoleon Murphy Brock, direct from San Jose—well, you know, they sort of know what's happening in San Jose, but, they're not quite sure what's happening in San Jose—and he's come to the big city to be corrupted by somebody who's from Seattle.
Napoleon: Wait a minute! What's that?
FZ: It's a restaurant menu.
Napoleon: I'll order . . . fried rice . . .
FZ: Short orders.
Napoleon:. . . shish kebab, and some turnips, and . . . sauerkraut . . .
FZ: No, tell him the truth. Tell him the truth, tell him what that really is.
Napoleon: Looks like a menu to me.
FZ: No. It is . . .
Jeff: Not only. Not only do you get the Desenex burger . . . not only the Desenex burger, but you are in for a real treat, Jim.
Napoleon: Wait a minute, I think I like that dance better than this— What are you talkin' about, creep?
Jeff: What I'm talkin' about is you've been in this killer fog down here too long.
Napoleon: What?
Jeff: You need somethin' to get up and go to school with.
Napoleon: Wait a minute, you're not talkin' to no fool now, you know, I wasn't born yesterday!
FZ: Heh heh heh!
Napoleon: Wait a minute. I think I'll take . . . I like that little dance you were doin' down there.
FZ: Jeff Simmons tries to corrupt Napoleon Murphy Brock by showing him a lewd dance and suggesting that he'd smoke a high-school diploma.
Napoleon: Hey! What you— What you— ? Wait a minute!
Jeff: Hey this, this stuff . . .
Napoleon: I've never seen one of these before, that's not a menu!
Jeff: This stuff is expensive.
Napoleon: What is that?
Jeff: You shoot it, you'll conserve all winter.
Napoleon: I do what?
Jeff: It last longer.
FZ: Not only do you get the Desenex burger . . .
Napoleon: No, no . . .
Jeff: Now come on, try it.
Napoleon: No, no, no.
Jeff: It's really good.
Napoleon: No. No. Please. Please, no.
Jeff: Lemme tell you. Hey, that's right, you heard right . . .
FZ: Barry, get a shot of him when he takes his glasses off.
Napoleon: No . . . no, no.
Jeff: This stuff is really good.
FZ: Give him a quick one.
Jeff: I use it myself.
Napoleon: No . . . I think I'll take— I think I'll do the dance.
Jeff: You like the dance?
FZ: Let the man dance.
Napoleon: I like the dance! . . . Wait a minute, wait a minute!
Jeff: Dummy up.
Napoleon: What do you, what do you— How'd you learn to do that dance?
Jeff: You want to smoke this. You want to smoke this.
Napoleon: Smoke— Smoke it?
Jeff: Try it.
Napoleon: Smoke it?
Jeff: The first one is free.
Napoleon: No. Please. Please.
Jeff: The first one is free.
Napoleon: No, please.
Jeff: Now, come on.
Napoleon: Please. Please.
Jeff: Look, you'll really like it.
Napoleon: Smoke THAT?!
Jeff: Have I ever lied to you? Have I ever seen you before?
Napoleon: I don't, I don't even know you!
Jeff: Look . . .
Napoleon: I don't even know what that is!
Jeff: Just bef—
Napoleon: And you're tellin' me to smoke it?!
Jeff: Just before, we smoked the tapes that you made.
Napoleon: Smoked the tapes?
Jeff: Smoked the tapes of your group.
Napoleon: I think I'd rather dance.
Jeff: You can really get off! Let's try a joint of this.
Napoleon: A WHAT?!
Jeff: A joint!
Napoleon: You mean this kinda joint?
Jeff: No, man! Where you been in livin'? Reseda?
Napoleon: No, San Jose.
Jeff: You oughta try this in a joint, well just a coupla hits.
Napoleon: Is that anything like a, stogie?
Jeff: Yeah, you oughta try it. Now, lemme, lemme roll it up, okay?
FZ: The evil dope pusher is cutting up a white gym sock, formerly owned by Carl Zappa and still damp. The shredded sock will be placed inside of a high-school diploma, and ignited with a sulphur preparation.
Napoleon: Wait a minute!
FZ: His first taste of big city life.
Napoleon: That's okay, wait a minute . . . wait . . .
FZ: He likes to roll a firm one, ladies and gentlemen. Show him the diploma, make sure it's real! No, no, him! This guy here! The one with the camera, you schmuck! No, hah ha ha . . .
?: DUMMY UP.
?: DUMMY UP.
Jeff: Hey! The roach of this is really gonna be good, so I'll save it.
FZ: Pre-moistened!
George: DUMMY UP!
FZ: Have mercy!
George: Awright . . . awright . . .
Napoleon:
What d'you do with that thing?
What do you do with that thing that you have?
Wait a minute
Wait a minute
Wait a minute
What do you do
With that thing?
I wanna know
Jeff: Hey, you know . . .
FZ: Prepare to enter the Pygmy Twylyte!
Jeff: Really man, like, you know, all the State patrolmen down at Winchell's? They got the exact same stuff, man.
Napoleon: Is this what those patrolmen are smokin'?
Jeff: Is what they're smokin', man!
Napoleon: That's why it looks so big from here.
Jeff: Yes, it looks big from here.
Napoleon: 'Cause I know I'm not as big as they.
Jeff: Listen, you, you colored folks have a saying.
Napoleon: What is it?
Jeff: Free Huey. If you can't free Huey, rent Huey.
Napoleon: Is he any relation to LeRoy?
Jeff: No, just try it. Just, just try it, I'm sure that, you know, you'll really get off . . .
Napoleon: Did you hear somebody say "DUMMY UP"?
Jeff: I read the rep— Somebody did say "DUMMY UP" while we were down here.
Napoleon: I thought we were here alone.
Jeff: No, dig it . . .
Napoleon: There's nothin' coming out!
Jeff: It isn't lit yet!
FZ: You have to put fire on the end of it!
Jeff: We're gonna light it, I— Just take, just take a coupla hits, we'll, we'll have enough for the rest of the band.
?: Right.
(DUMMY UP.)
FZ: Hey, it looks like it's working, it's working!
Napoleon: I think I, I think I got the feelin' what you mean about that hat, gotta turn it around, gotta turn it around!
FZ: Yes, that's much better, Napoleon!
Napoleon: There we, there we go, I think, I think I, I think I'm, I think I'm beginnin' to, to feel that dance you were talkin' about!
FZ: Do the dance!
Napoleon:
Can I have one more?
Can I have one more?
Can I have one more?
Can I have it?
Napoleon: Wait a minute! Wait a minute! Wait a minute.
FZ: Now the next step of this operation . . .
Napoleon: Wait a minute!
FZ: The evil corrupter of youth is going to take him from Step One, which is a mere high-school diploma stuffed with a gym sock, to Step Two, which is a college degree stuffed with absolutely nothing at all. Smoke that and it'll really get you out there!
Napoleon:
I still don't feel as good as I felt this mornin', yeah yeah . . .
FZ: You'll grow out of it.
?: DUMMY UP!
Napoleon:
I heard it again, somebody said . . .
Jeff: You see this?
Napoleon:What d'you mean?
Jeff: College!
FZ: College!
Jeff:
That's college rhythm.
Napoleon:
You mean if I smoke that
It's the same as if
As if I was at college?
Roll it on up!
Roll it on up!
Roll it on up!
Gimme a . . .
FZ: No no, the college degree is stuffed with absolutely nothing at all, you get— you get nothing with your college degree.
Napoleon:
Oh . . . But that's what I want
FZ: I forgot, I'm sorry.
Napoleon:
Well,
You get nothin',
But that's what I want
FZ: A true Zen saying: Nothing is what I want.
Napoleon:
Oh, that's . . .
Wait . . .
Here come comes that dance again!
Hey! Can we smoke this, too?
Wait a minute!
Now, wait a minute!
Wait a minute!
Now, wait a minute!
Now, wait a minute!
What will that do to me?
Jeff: What do you mean you and me? You and this!
Napoleon: No, listen! No, that's not gonna lead me to any dan . . . anything? Like ah, that's, that's not, those aren't drugs, are they now?
Jeff: These aren't drugs, man . . .
Napoleon: Oh, I feel better, already, I feel, better.
George?: DUMMY UP!
FZ: The results of a higher education!
FZ: What about that dance?
Napoleon:
You know
I said you know
I think I feel a little bit better
I said
I think I feel a little bit better
But you know
It don't last very long
Jeff: No, it doesn't last too long, man, I like, you know . . .
Napoleon:
Now, the sunshine lasts all day . . .
Jeff: The shampoo . . .
Napoleon:
Noontime, it feels like it's gonna run away
Stays with you in the evenin'
FZ: Yeah, the moonlight lasts all night . . .
Napoleon:
You howl at all the timethatnight
Let it jive [...] Now that jive you had me smokin'
Turn my head back around
FZ: You have to move up to something even more powerful than a . . .
Napoleon: Now, you told me . . .
FZ: College education . . .
Napoleon: You told me . . .
Jeff: Something more powerful . . .
FZ: There is something beyond a college education, no foolin' . . .
Napoleon: No, couldn't be . . .
FZ: Yes, there is . . .
Napoleon: College is free . . .
FZ: I'm not talkin' about the school of hard knocks, either.
Napoleon: Now wait . . .
FZ: Heh heh heh. Give me a couple of hard knocks, Chester.
Napoleon: What is that?
FZ: There we go, a couple of hard knocks, ladies and gentlemen. No, no, we were gonna take you to the next logical step, which is a degree from a, school of veterinary science, but I think that we shouldn't waste any more time, I think that we should get you immediately to where it's all happening.
Jeff: Let's do so.
FZ: Yeah, just rumple it.
Napoleon: Now wait a minute!
FZ: Let him touch it, let him just . . .
Napoleon: I didn't get to try . . .
Jeff: No, man . . . put it in the . . .
Napoleon: I didn't get to try, I didn't get to try . . .
FZ: Hey, I'll tell you what you oughta do with it . . .
Napoleon: What?
FZ: The same thing that you do with the Sanitube!
Napoleon: Oh A what?
FZ: Only Carl Franzoni knows about that!
Napoleon: What?
FZ: The Sanitube! You know, where you take the, the paper off the thing, and you wrap it around the thing, and, the real school of hard knocks!
Napoleon: A Salad-tube!
FZ: The Sanitube, not a Salad-tube! . . . All right, now listen. We're gonna introduce you to somebody who has the answer, he has the answer to all the problems of modern civilization.
Napoleon: Is he, is he in [?] anything like this? Can he dance?
FZ: He's even farther out than that guy over there!
Napoleon: As long as he can dance!
FZ: He can't really dance too good, but he's so far out, he's not even on the stage.
Napoleon: Can he make me feel better than the sunshine?
FZ: Just take a look at him! . . . What do you think? Do you think he can make you feel better than the sunshine? Go on, give it a try. You've smoked the diploma. You're going to sleep. You're going to sleep. You're going to sleep. Just take him right on off the stage. That's it. He is going to sleep. Hah hah hah. Just take him right over here.
Okay, cut there. Cut there. Now, think we oughta run through that again, or you wanna take up from where we left off with Don, cause we're gonna have to light him . . .
FZ: You're gonna have to take the, the microphone they're using for the saxophone.
Okay, RyanBrian? Get a level on this off the sax mike.
Ain't it funky now, good God, feet on fire—Dick Barber, ladies and gentlemen. Okay, now Napoleon, can you come over here, and Jeff? Don, why don't you mix up some smoke, and get that going over there, and be busy at work, just as, ah . . . you guys went off the stage over there, take your position over there. All the rest of the members of the band back up on the stage, ready for sound effect-o-rama.
Hah hah. Okay, fire it up. Go ahead. No, no, just get some smoke going there . . . have to drink it, you're going to drink it? All right, wait a minute. Where is the smoke gun? Blow a little smoke in the direction of these people . . . Okay. Fog it up.
Get the smoke over in the, in where the people are.
Napoleon:
Pygmy Twylyte
Pygmy Twylyte . . .
FZ: Midnight in the laboratory of a, of a nationally-known mad scientist.
Napoleon: Wait a minute, brother.
Jeff: You wanna try high, try high . . .
Napoleon: Wait a minute, brother . . .
Jeff: Try high . . .
Napoleon: Wait a minute, brother!
Jeff: I don't have to wait.
Napoleon: You didn't mention no smoke.
FZ: Hah hah. Napoleon.
Napoleon: Didn't say nothin' 'bout fire. Wait a minute.
FZ: You can't be serious about this.
Napoleon:
You didn't say anything about breakin' skin
You didn't say anything about drinkin' gin
An' that don't look like gin to me
Jeff: Yeah . . .
Napoleon:
Why's it smokin'?
FZ: It's the Pygmy Twylyte. And it's always smokin' in the Pygmy Twylyte.
Napoleon:
Well, if you don't know
If you And he don't know
Jeff: Yes, the Pygmy Twylyte, a wonderful time, brought to you by the Langerdorf-Morton Company, who brings you those wonderful years—ages 24 through death, where your child uses more than half of the heroin brought in the United States.
Napoleon: Why have you brought me here?
Jeff: Such a deal! Special deal!
Napoleon: But why have you brought me here?
Jeff: Pygmy Twylyte.
FZ: The Pygmy Twylyte.
Napoleon:
You told me
That you would want to take me
That you was full
Of higher education
FZ: Okay, contestants, are you ready for Cue Number One? Hello, folks in the gallery? Here we go . . .
Napoleon: Wait a minute . . .
FZ: They use it all the time themselves.
Napoleon:
Do you see what I see?
Is it really what we see?
FZ: Do you want to talk with ithim?
Jeff:
It's real
Napoleon:
With those [...] 'round Will those hands grab me?
FZ: You need one?
Napoleon:
Well we all have to be
FZ: Do you need a micmike?
NapoleonJeff:
It's the Pygmy Twylyte, say, hoo-hoo . . .
FZ: Then do all of your stuff in pantomime.
Napoleon: I think it's ready.
Jeff: I think it is ready.
Napoleon: It's not smokin'.
FZ: All right, Jeff, take him over there. It's time for the treatment.
Napoleon: Wait a minute!
Jeff: I'm gonna sign you up.
Napoleon: Give me time to think!
FZ: Sign him up now.
Napoleon: Wait a minute!
Jeff: I'm gonna sign you up now!
Napoleon: Give me time to think!
Jeff: So you don't forget, mail before midnight tonight!
Napoleon: Anybody see my hat?
FZ: Ah, you're lookin' good!
Napoleon: Anybody seen my hat?
Jeff: Take a big strong linePygmy Twylyte.
FZ: Take a big strong line, it's medicine time.
Napoleon: I think I'd rather go back to my hat, now.
FZ: You can't go back now, it's too late, Napoleon!
Napoleon: Anybody seen my hat?
FZ: Midnight in the scientist's laboratory!
Napoleon: No. That's okay. That's . . .
FZ: Okay, get ready for the flashlight routine!
Napoleon: Thank you anyway but no . . .
FZ: The flashlights, the flashlights, turn 'em on . . . Hey, look at that! Real fire, ladies and gentlemen! . . . Bring 'em right on in there, don't let 'em stand back. No, no . . .
Napoleon: Wait a minute!
FZ: It's good for you, they use it themselves . . . Hah hah . . .
Napoleon: Oh! No! No! No!
FZ: Yes, yes, yes! This is your big moment! Give it to him! No, wait a minute, wait a minute! You have to try some yourself. Barry, I want you to get this. Keep on, that's it, move your hands like that. The mad scientist, because he does have scruples, is going to try the potion himself before he gives it to Napoleon. Try a little bit.
It looks like it's really a good batch. Go ahead, Jeff. Take the turkey baster and shoot him up! . . . Hah hah hah . . . Are you ready to stand up? Okay, Cue Number Two, hit it!
?: Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me.
Napoleon:
Has anybody seen my hat? . . .
Has anybody seen my hat?
FZ: Partially obscured by the smoke, Napoleon, the naive youth, decides to put his hat back on, and escape from the laboratory of the mad scientist before it's too late. Quickly, Napoleon!
Barry, did you run out? 'Cause if you didn't, you should get a low-angle of all of this. You should get, get some shots from up here, too, looking down, it's really good! Get up onto the stage, Barry, and look down on 'em. Don transforms more, you know, with the mask on, just move around with . . . no, leave the mask on, but then . . . okay, all right, everybody get your best glazed expression in the direction of the camera. Really look sick. As sick as— No smiling! No smiling! And blink the flashlight! This is art. I'm telling you, it's really artistic!
Napoleon:
Twylyte!
Pygmy Twylyte!
Pygmy Twylyte!
Downer Midnite!
Pygmy . . .
Hey . . . hey . . . hey . . . hey . . .
FZ: [...] Move the arm!
Hey!
Ladies and gentlemen
Don't watch Ruth
Watch her!
She's planning something
Absolutely wonderful for you
Carl Franzoni and this young lady
Hey, wait a minute!
Wait a minute, wait a minute!
One more time
Let the [?] strap fall in . . .
Hey, there it is, folks!
All right. Give him some more of those . . . Barry, you got a reaction shot of that . . .
You [...] the Unity! The strobe light, the strobe light!
Contestant Number One in our Dance Contest. Where is Contestant Number Two? Do we have a second contestant? There's Contestant Number Two. There's And Number Three. Do we have a Contestant Number Four somewhere out there? Hah hah . . .
Orgy, orgy
We gotta go blow now
I said orgy, orgy
Everybody's gotta go now
If you wanna
Get in
Over my Open the [...]
Come on now
(Go ahead!)
The white bun one in the middle
Gonna keep onWith the cape on
Gettin' Give him some head
All night long
Orgy, orgy
It's time to go now
Orgy, orgy
It's time to go now
It's getting down kinda good
I can see it from here
A lot of smoke
People disappear
What are we gonna do?
That we can have fun?
Get in on an orgy
[...]
Orgy, orgy
Fun, fun, fun, fun
Orgy, orgy
Fun, fun, fun
If you wanna get your rocks off
You better jump on in
Everybody over there
Have a good time
If you wanna get your rocks off
Better come on in
Drop everything you're doin'
The medicine is [...]
Orgy, orgy
Smoke and fire, now
It's time to go now
(Time to git get some)
Orgy, orgy
It's time to go
Do you wanna get off?
Do you wanna get off?go . . .
Do you wanna git get some?
Well, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon . . . come on, come on, come on, come on . . .
(DUMMY UP!)
Orgy, orgy
Orgy, orgy
FZ: Let's do "Penguin."
She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh . . .
Way over on the wet side
Of the bed
Just like the mighty Penguin
Flappin' her eight ounce wings
Lord, you know it's all over
If she come atcha on the strut and wrap 'em all around yer head
Flappin' her eight ounce wings, flappinumm
She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Shake up the pale-dry
Ginger ale
Tremblin' like a Penguin
When the battery fail
(It's hard when the battery fails)
Lord, you must be havin' her jumpin' through a hoopa real fire
With some Kleenex wrapped around a coat-hang wire
She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh . . .
Howlin' over to some
Antarcticulated moon
In the frostbite nite
With her flaps gone white
Shriekin' as she spot the hoop across the room
(WhoomWoo! She spotted the hoop)
You know it must be a Penguin bound down
If you hear that terrible screamin'
And there ain't no other birds around
She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh . . .
She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh . . .
Aw, you must be careful
Not to leave her straps
Too loose
'Cause she just might box yer dog
'Cause she just might box yer dog
An' leave you a dried-up dog biscuit . . .
Hey!
That was very good, folks. You guys really can dance. Oh, you want to get tied up again? Close-ups, no, uh-uh. You use that new Christmas tree stuff that they have on television.
All compositions by Frank Zappa except as noted