Läther

Bozzio: L-l-l . . .
O'Hearn: Listen now . . .
Bozzio: Father I'm glad you're here . . . I want you to hear this . . . I have a confession to make, you know?
O'Hearn: Well, spit it out, son
Bozzio: L-l-l-l-l-l-LEATHER . . .
O'Hearn: Well, don't be ashamed

A little green rosetta
Little green rosetta
A little green rosetta
A little green rosetta

Make a muffin better
Make a muffin better
With a green rosetta
A green rosetta

A little green rosetta
A little green rosetta
A little green rosetta
A little green rosetta

You'll make a muffin better . . .

Whereupon the door closes violently!

Bozzio: What?

Roy:
I never thought you'd go from me
Now that you're gone
I miss you so much
Wha-Wha-Whatcha gonna do when the well runs dry?

Roy:
Whatcha gonna do when the well runs dry-y-y-y?

Moire?: Yeah
O'Hearn?: Nope

Uh-uh-uh-un-ha-ahh!

Baby, baby, why you cryin'
I'm feeling sorry what she said
Put down that rag, I told her then
Don't wanna hear you cry again
Dear heart, dear heart
Tell me, tell me what's the reason
Dear heart, dear heart
Tell me, tell me what's the reason

You know I went to see the doctor
And then I read a magazine
Forget that book, I told her then
Don't wanna hear about the book again
Dear heart, dear heart
Tell me, tell me what's the reason
Dear heart, dear heart
Tell me, tell me what's the reason

There was a picture on the story
That showed a young sophisticator
Who falls in love three pages later
With some aggressive agitator
And by and by he comes to hate her
'Cause she don't shave her underarms
And he can't go for that
'Cause he's a young sophisticator
(He's so sophisticated!)

Baby, baby, why you cryin'
It made me wonder what she said
Forget that book I told her then
Don't wanna hear about the book again
Dear heart, dear heart
Tell me, tell me what's the reason
Dear heart, dear heart
Why don't you tell me what's the reason

Would you still love me if my hair grew
All down the side of my kimono
Well of course I would, it might be hip
If it did not cause you to trip
Dear heart, dear heart
Or radiate a bad aroma
Dear heart, dear heart
Or radiate a cheap aroma
Dear heart, dear heart
(Dearest heart)
Or radia-iate, or radia-ia-ia-iate a cheesy aroma

FZ: Sick!

Moire: Leather!
Bozzio: Ungh . . . ungh . . . ungh . . .

Roy: Unnh-ooh-oooh . . .

Moire: Leather . . .
Bozzio: What?
Moire: Leather!

Yes! I'm only fourteen
Sickly 'n thin
Tried all of my life
Just to grow me a chin
It popped out once
Yes, but my dad pushed it in
Tell me, why did he hurt me?
Lord, he's my next of kin
He's a mex-i-kin

I'm lonely 'n green
Too small for my shirt
If Simmons was here
I could feature my hurt
I'm scared of the future
Yes, and I hope I don't grow
Listen here, nobody likes me
'Cause everywhere that I go
They say no
They say no
They say no

Hey! Now I'm older
Got a place in the town, babe
Got a chin on my shoulder
'N it keeps growing down 'n down 'n down
I'm horny 'n lonely
(Yes, I am!)
'N I wish I was dead
Listen! Why am I livin'?
Lord, I wanna be dead instead
That's right, I said
I wanna be dead instead
Okay, now dig this . . .

I wanna be dead
In bed
Please kill me
(That's right)
'Cause that would thrill me
I wanna be dead
In bed
Please kill me
(Hey!)
'Cause that would thrill me
I wanna be dead
(Lord!)
In bed
(I wanna be dead instead)
Please kill me
(Be dead in bed, yeah)
'Cause that would thrill me
I wanna be dead
In bed
(Well, just as sure as my name is Terry Ted, Terry Ted)
Please kill me
'Cause that would thrill me
(Kill me!)
I wanna be dead
(Thrill me!)
In bed
(Fill me!)
Please kill me
(With some love)
'Cause that would thrill me
(Every night)
I wanna be dead
(You know you)
In bed
(You drivin' me crazy)
Please kill me
'Cause that would thrill me
(Hey, don't you wanna . . . )

Bozzio: Ungh . . . ungh . . . ungh . . .
O'Hearn: Whadya say we go down the street for a few minutes?
Bozzio: No . . . no go on that . . . I, uh . . .
Moire: You don't like fag bars?
Bozzio: No
O'Hearn: Well, try 'em!

Come on! Hey! Do you know what you are?
You're an asshole! Hey!

Some of you might not agree
'Cause you probably likes a lot of misery
But think a while and you will see . . .
(Take a while, you'll see)
Broken hearts are for assholes
Broken hearts are for assholes
Are you an asshole?
Broken hearts are for assholes
Are you an asshole too?
Whatcha gonna do, 'cause you're an asshole . . .

No no no, yeah yeah yeah
Hey! You're an ASSHOLE!

Maybe you think you're a lonely guy
Maybe you think you're too tough to cry
So you went to The Grape,
Just to give it a try
(Just to give it a try)
And Dagmar
(Possibly, the ugliest sonofabitch I've ever seen in my life)
Was his name . . .
(Handle-Bar Johnny's)
The whiskers sticking out from underneath of his
Pancake make-up
(Alive and living in LEATHER)
Nearly drove you insane
(Awright, what you been waiting for?)
And so you kissed a little sailor
(Coming up next week at The Grape, something new, something exciting)
Who had just blew in from Spain
(You can get a few of these lovely little sailors to roll the stage back)
And pull the chain attached to the permanently-erected nipples of Jimmy
(It's showtime! Nice)
In a bold salute to pain
(Awright do you remember FiFi Dupree?)
You sniffed the reeking buns of Angel
(Formerly Buddy Love the Baron Of Beef)
And acted like it was cocaine
(Mmm . . . coming next week a Grape salute to S&M)
You were dazzled by the exciting new costume of Ko-Ko
(On Thursday night, a fine tribute: LEATHER!)
In a way you can't explain
(No one can salute leather without saluting Puerto Rico!)
And so you worked the wall with Michael
(Then we may come in up next Tuesday)
Which gave your back an awful strain
(Uhhh-nhh . . . )
But you came back on Sunday for the gong show
(In crushed velvet or leather)
But you forgot what I was sayin'
'Cause you're an asshole, you're an asshole
That's right
You're an asshole, 'n you're an asshole
That's right
You're an asshole, you're an asshole
That's right
You're an asshole, 'n you're an asshole

Yeah-hey! That's right! You're an aiee-asshole!

You say you can't live with what you've been through
Well, ladies you can be an asshole too
You might pretend you ain't got one on the bottom of you
But don't fool yerself girl
It's lookin' at you
Don't fool yerself girl
It's winkin' at you
(Hey!)
Don't fool yerself girl
It's blinkin' at you
Gonna ram it, ram it, ram it
Ram it up yer poop chute
(Cock ring)
(Chick-a-pttthh . . . )
Ram it, ram it, ram it
Ram it up yer poop chute
(Leather)
(Knockwurst)
Ram it, ram it, ram it
Ram it up yer poop chute
(Shausage)
(Bockwurst)
Ram it, ram it, ram it
Ram it up yer poop chute
(Scabies)
(Weissburst)
Ram it, ram it, ram it
Ram it up yer poop chute
(Volume)
(Chick-a-pttthh)
Don't fool yerself, girl,
(Gonna ram it, gonna ram it . . . )
Gonna ram it up yer poop chute
(Chick-a-pttthh)
(Nice)
Don't fool yerself, girl,
(Gonna ram it, gonna ram it . . . )
Gonna ram it up yer poop chute
(Asshole)
Don't fool yerself, girl,
(Gonna ram it, gonna ram it . . . )
Gonna ram it up yer poop chute
(Ay ay ay ay)
Don't fool yerself, girl,
(Gonna ram it, gonna ram it . . . )
Gonna ram it up yer poop chute
(Ay ay ay ay)
Don't fool yerself, girl,
(Gonna ram it, gonna ram it . . . )
Gonna ram it up yer poooop chute
(Ay ay ay ay ay ay ay ay)
Don't fool yerself, girl,
(Gonna ram it, gonna ram it . . . )
Gonna ram it up yer . . .

Lemme take you to the beach
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Lemme take you to the beach
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-lahhh

Bring the the weenies
I'll bring the soft drinks
And the cookies
Everybody's in love!

Lemme take you to a show
Wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo
Lemme take you to a show
Wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wohhh
Eat a candy! You are dandy! Can I kiss you?
Maybe I'll just hold your hand-eeee!

Lemme take you to the beach again
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Lemme take you to the beach again
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-lahhh

At the freak-out
Later we'll peak out
You're on restriction
So you'll probably sneak out!

 

 

He was the Playboy Type (he smoked a pipe)
His fav'rite phrase was "outa-site!"
He had an Irish Setter
(Hrtch-a-pltch
Hrtch-a-pltch
Hrtch-a-pltch
Arf!)

It was a singles bar, a Tuesday night
The moon was dim, the band was tight
They did the Bump together

Honey honey, hey
Baby, don't you want a man like me
Honey honey, hey
Baby, don't you want a man like me
Honey honey, hey
Baby, don't you want a
Baby, don't you want a
Baby, don't you want a
Man!

She was a lonely sort, just a little too short
Her jokes were dumb and her fav'rite sport
Was hockey (in the winter)

He was duly impressed and was quick to suggest
Any sport with a PUCK had to be 'bout the best
As he jabbed his elbow in her
(Get it honey?)

Later on they went off to where the music was soft
The candles were drippy, they saw a real hippy
Who delivered their dinner

The rice was brown, and soon they found
That the crowd around that had jammed the room
Well it seemed to be getting thinner

Honey honey, hey
Baby, don't you want a man like me
Honey honey, hey
Baby, don't you want a man like me
Honey honey, hey
Baby, don't you want a
Baby, don't you want a
Baby, don't you want a
Man!

He took her home to a motor court
She wouldn't kiss him, he tried to ignore it
But it made him angry!
(Angry! It made me angry!
Why it made me so angry
I could have killed that lousy bitch!)

He called her a slut
(Slut slut slut . . . )
A pig
(Pig pig pig . . . )
And a whore
(Whore whore whore . . . )
A bitch
(Bitch bitch bitch . . . )
And a cunt
(Cunt cunt cunt . . . )
And she slammed the door
(The door!)
In a petulant frenzy!
(A petulant frenzy!
This is a petulant
Frenzy!
I'm petulant
And I'm having a frenzy!)

Guy In The Audience: Fuck you!
FZ: Fuck you too, buddy. You know what I mean? Fuck you very much.

On the sofa she weeps
(Boo hoo hoo hoo)
She weeps and she weeps
(Boo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo)
She weeps and she peeps
Through the curtain

He just got in his car
But the battery's dead
So he asked to use the phone
And she gives him some head
And that's the end of the story

Honey honey, hey
Baby, don't you want a man like me
Honey honey, hey
Baby, don't you want a man like me
Honey honey, hey
Baby, don't you want a
Baby, don't you want a
Baby, don't you want a
Man!
Baby, don't you want a man sometimes?

 

O'Hearn?: Gurh-gurh-gurh-gurhg . . .

Squirm with ecstasy . . .

Punky, Punky, give me your lips
To die on . . .

Isn't it romantic, Punky?

Punky's whips, Punky's whips
His hair's so shiny, I love his hips
I love his teeth, 'n his gums 'n such . . .
PUNKY
(So what's happenin', man?)
You're an ANGEL . . .
(Oh . . . )
You're too much

I-I
Lord, I-I'm fo-fo-o-o-nd
Of chiffo-on
In a wrist array-ee-ay-hey
I said
I-I-I-I-I-I-I
Lord, I'm fo-o-nd
Of chiffo-on
In a wrist array
Come on, Punky!

FZ: Thank You. Terry Bozzio, ladies and gentlemen!

Bozzio?: There it is . . .
O'Hearn: Bill, look at it . . . ain't she a beauty . . .
Bozzio: It's . . . it's breathtaking . . .
O'Hearn: Sh . . . sh . . . she musta cost you a small fortune . . . whadya pay for it?
Bozzio: An arm and a leg . . . Christ, are you kidding? . . . Shit, I'm in hock up to my goddamned eyeballs . . .

O'Hearn: Tse-heh-heh-heh-heh-ha-ha . . .

Moire: Oh God, no, not again . . .

Bozzio: HEH-heh-heh . . .
Dale: Ahhhh!
O'Hearn: Ooo-oo-oo-oh, yes!
Bozzio: What?!
O'Hearn: Ahhh . . . smell it . . .
Moire: Sniff . . . Nn-hng . . .
O'Hearn: Oh . . .
Moire: Uh-huhm . . .

O'Hearn: Say, uh . . . you still bowling?

 

Louis The Turkey: Uh . . . heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh . . .

Bozzio: Larry's not with us any more; he went on y'know
O'Hearn: Yeah
Bozzio: Yeah . . . He bit the big one
O'Hearn: Hah-hah!
Bozzio: Ahem . . . Yeah . . . Well, he's got his own little piece of heaven now
O'Hearn: Hhh! Hah-hah-hah . . .
O'Hearn: Uh, wish he'd play something else . . . 'Cause, uh, they just aren't gonna stand for it . . .

Bozzio: One more time for the world!

[1:57]
O'Hearn: Damn it!

Narrator:

The adventures of GREGGERY PECCARY!

Greggery:

Oh, here comes GREGGERY,
Little GREGGERY PECCARY
The nocturnal gregarious
Wild swine . . .

Narrator:

A peccary is a little pig with a white collar that usually hangs around between Texas and Paraguay, sometimes ranging as far west as Catalina

Greggery:

Catalina, Catalina, Catalina!

Narrator:

This particular peccary is part of that bold . . .

Greggery:

Bold . . .

Narrator:

New . . .

Greggery:

New . . .

Narrator:

Breed . . .

Greggery:

Breeding . . .

Narrator:

That distinguishes itself by markings which resemble a WIDE TIE directly below the white collar

Greggery:

If it's wide enough
Everyone will know
That the tie I'm wearing
Is a symbol
Of how nimble my mind will know
Ooh-ooh!

Narrator:

(Swank suave!)

Greggery:

Hoon-hoon hoonna-han
Hoonna hoonna

Narrator:

Look out!
Here he comes again!

Greggery:

Oh here comes GREGGERY PECCARY

Yes it's cravy, cravy, yeah . . .

Hoonna-han
Hoonna-han

Narrator:

Every morning, GREGGERY drives his little red Volkswagen to the ugly part of town where they keep the Government Buildings.

Greggery:

Voodn, Voodn!

Boy it's so hard to find a place to park around here!

Voo-voo-voo-nya-hoon

Narrator:

GREGGERY PECCARY takes the elevator up to the eighty-third floor of a grim, gray, evil-looking building with a sign on the front reading: 'BIG SWIFTY & ASSOCIATES, TREND-MONGERS'.

And what, might you ask, is a TREND MONGER? Well, a TREND MONGER is a person who dreams up a TREND (like 'The Twist'—or 'Flower Power'), and spreads it throughout the land, using all the frightening little skills that Science has made available!

And so it was, one fateful morning, GREGGERY PECCARY made his way through the Steno Pool . . .

Greggery:

Hi Mildred!
Hello Gladys!
WANDA!

Narrator:

Yes, from the moment they laid eyes on him, all the girls in the BIG SWIFTY Steno Pool KNEW . . . here was a nocturnal, gregarious wild swine ON HIS WAY UP . . . a PECCARY of Destiny, Adventure and ROMANCE . . .

Greggery:

Is there any mail for me?

Stenographers:

SWIFTY'S!
THIS IS BIG SWIFTY'S!
AT BIG SWIFTY'S WE ALL KNOW-OW-OW
(WO-WO)
YOU'LL GO
FOR ANY GIMMICK OR GIZMO!

Greggery:

WOULDN'T YOU RATHER BE INVOLVED
IN A SERIES OF COLORFUL
TIME-WASTING TRENDS?

Narrator:

AIR HOCKEY . . . biff . . . dush-h-h!

Stenographers:

LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA
YOUP YOUP YOUP YOUP

Greggery:

IS YOUR WIFE SNORING BY THE SINK?

Stenographers:

LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA
YOUP YOUP YOUP YOUP

Greggery:

AIN'T YOUR LIFE BORING, DON'TCHA THINK?

Stenographers:

YOUP YOUP YOUP-YOUP-YOUP YOUP YOUP

Greggery:

LIFE IS SO MUCH BETTER
WHEN THERE'S SOME LITTLE SOMETHING
TO DO!

Narrator:

Does it matter that this waste of time is what makes a LIFE for you? Hmmmmm?

Greggery:

I must plummet boldly forward to my ultra-avant laminated, simulated replica-mahogany desk, with the strategically-placed, imported, very hip water pipe, and the latest edition of the WHOLE EARTH CATALOG, and rack my agile mind for a spectacular new TREND, thereby rejuvenating our limping economy, and providing for bored & miserable people everywhere some great new 'THING' to identify with!

Stenographers:

WE HAVE GOT THE LITTLE ANSWERS
TO THE THINGS
THAT MIGHT BE BOTHERING YOU!

Greggery:

WE HAVE GOT YOUR LITTLE TOYS!

Stenographers:

(WE'RE BUSY MAKIN' 'EM!)
BUSY MAKIN' 'EM,
WE'RE BUSY MAKIN' 'EM

Greggery:

BUSY MAKIN' EM

Stenographers:

JUST FOR YOU!
Yoo-hoo-hoo!

Greggery:

Highly efficient, Miss Snodgrass!

Narrator:

And with that, GREGGERY turned and strode nonchalantly into his dinky little office with the desk and the catalog and the very hip water pipe, and proceeded, with a vigor and determination known only to piglets of a similarly diminutive proportion, to single-handedly invent THE CALENDAR!

With his eyes rolled heaven-ward, and his little shiny pig-hoofs on the desk, GREGGERY ponders the question of ETERNITY (and fractional divisions thereof), as mysterious ANGELIC VOICES sing to him from a great distance, providing the necessary clues for the construction of this thrilling new TREND!

Angelic Voices:

SUNDAY

Greggery:

Sunday?
WOW!
SUNDAY, SATURDAY . . . TUESDAY THROUGH
'MONDAY—MONDAY'!
SUNDAY, SATURDAY

Narrator:

And thus THE CALENDAR, in all of its colorful disguises was presented to the bored & miserable people everywhere!

GREGGERY issued a memo on it, whereupon the entire contents of the Steno Pool identified with it STRENUOUSLY, and WORSHIPPED IT as a WAY OF LIFE, and took their little pills by it, and went back 'n forth from work by it, and paid their rent by it, and before long they were even having BIRTHDAY PARTIES IN THE OFFICE by it, because NOW, AT LAST, GREGGERY PECCARY's exciting new invention had made it possible for everyone to find out HOW OLD THEY WERE!

Greggery:

What hath GOD wrought?

Narrator:

Unfortunately, there were some people who simply DID NOT WISH TO KNOW, and that's why, on his way home from the office one night, GREGGERY was attacked by a RAGE OF HUNCHMEN!

Making his way through the evening traffic, GREGGERY notices that the other vehicles which crowd and bump his little red car are all inhabited by slowly-aging 'VERY HIP YOUNG PEOPLE.'

They appear to be casting sinister glances toward him through their glinting acid burn-out eyeballs, trying to run him off the road, or make him bump into something . . . giving strong evidence of HOSTILE AGGRESSION!

To elude them, GREGGERY takes the SHORT FOREST EXIT off the expressway. They zoom after him in all manner of cars, trucks, garishly-painted buses, and motorcycles.

GREGGERY takes a bumpy trail off the main SHORT FOREST ROAD, which leads him up the side of a FAMOUS (and conveniently placed) MOUNTAIN, and into a strange cave on the edge of a cliff, not far from a LITTLE TWISTED TREE . . . with eyes on it.

Meanwhile, the enraged HUNCHMEN (and HUNCH-WOMEN) rumble through the SHORT FOREST until (realizing the little swine has escaped), they decide to park their steaming vehicles in a circular pseudo-Wagon Train formation . . . and have a LOVE-IN!

Under the influence of a fantastic amount of TRENDY CHEMICAL AMUSEMENT AID, they proceed to perform lewd acts, rip each other off for small personal possessions, and dance with depraved abandon in the vicinity of a six-foot pile of transistor radios (each one tuned to a different station).

Greggery:

WHAT?

Narrator:

The HUNCHMEN finally expire from exhaustion, and GREGGERY, who has viewed the proceedings from a safe distance, breathes a sigh of relief . . .

Greggery:

Phew!

Narrator:

Only to be terrified once again by a roar of immense laughter . . .

Billy:

HO! HO! HO!

Narrator:

Which seems to be rumbling up from the very depths of the cave in which he has hidden his car!

Greggery:

Good Lord! What was that?

Narrator:

GREGGERY doesn't realize he has concealed himself inside the very mouth of

Billy:

HO! HO! HO!

Narrator:

BILLY THE MOUNTAIN!

Billy:

HO! HO! HO!

Narrator:

And, as you all know, whenever BILLY laughs, rocks and boulders hack up, and the air for miles around is filled with tons of dust, forming a series of huge BROWN CLOUDS!

Greggery:

WHO IS MAKING THOSE NEW BROWN CLOUDS?
WHO IS MAKING THOSE CLOUDS THESE DAYS?
WHO IS MAKING THOSE NEW BROWN CLOUDS?
BETTER ASK A PHILOSTOPHER 'N SEE WHAT HE SAYS!

Narrator:

GREGGERY stops at a gas station and makes a mysterious phone call . . .

Greggery:

IS THIS THE OLD LOFT
WITH THE PAINT PEELIN' OFF IT
BY THE CHINESE POLICE
WHERE THE DOGS ROLL BY?

IS THIS WHERE THEY KEEP
THE PHILOSTOPHERS NOW,
WITH THE RUGS & THE DUST,
WHERE THE BOOKS GO TO DIE?

HOW MANY YEZ GOT?
SAY YEZ GOT QUITE A FEW,
JUST SITTIN' AROUND THERE
WITH NOTHIN' TO DO?

WELL I JUST CALLED YEZ UP
'CAUSE I WANTED TO SEE
A PHILOSTOPHER BE
OF ASSISTANCE TO ME!

Narrator:

GREGGERY receives information that 'The Greatest Living PHILOSTOPHER Known to Mankind' is currently in possession of the very information in question, and, furthermore, this information could be HIS, if only GREGGERY would attend a 'SPECIAL THERAPEUTIC GROUP ASSEMBLY' (Classes now forming), and available at a special low low introductory fee . . . and now, here he is, 'The Greatest Living PHILOSTOPHER Known to Mankind', QUENTIN ROBERT DeNAMELAND! Take it away!

Quentin:

Folks, as you can see for yourself, the way this clock over here is behaving, TIME IS OF AFFLICTION! Now this might be cause for alarm among a portion of you, as, from a certain experience, I TEND TO PROCLAIM: 'THE EONS ARE CLOSING'!

Narrator:

Make your checks payable to 'QUENTIN ROBERT DeNAMELAND, Greatest Living Philostopher Known to Mankind'!

Greggery:

WHO IS MAKING THOSE NEW BROWN CLOUDS?
WHO IS MAKING THOSE CLOUDS THESE DAYS?
WHO IS MAKING THOSE NEW BROWN CLOUDS?
IF YOU ASK A PHILOSTOPHER, HE'LL SEE
THAT YOU PAYS!

Moire: L-le-leather . . .

FZ: Hey. All right. Ladies and gentlemen, this is Frank Zappa and here comes the Läther album.

Voice: Just what the hell's going on down there anyway? You-you kids quit monkeying with that machinery! Get the hell outta there!

FZ: Uh, Warner Brothers does not have the rights to this material, although it was delivered to them. See, this is an eight-sided album. Y'know, they don't happen very often. I had my nerve, didn't I?

FZ: Hoopla! This is Frank Zappa as your bogus temporary disc jockey . . .

Motorhead: Yeah I-I left home. I used to sleep in one of those old stand-up Baldwins, y'know?

Guy In The Audience: Yeah!

Bozzio: "Terr, ya gotta upset stomach? I give you some Pepto-Dismal"

 

FZ: Well, there it was, all eight sides of the Läther album. This has been Frank Zappa as temporary bogus disc jockey and, ahh, good-bye!

O'Hearn: L-le-leather . . .