1975 US Original on DiscReet DS 2234 The details of the album were not printed on the front cover instead they were included on a plastic label stuck to the shrink-wrap which meant the label would be easily lost or damaged! 1975(?) US Limited Edition on RCA Music Service Record Club R114523 Issued ‘under licence’. 1975 UK on DiscReet K 59209 marketed by WEA Never released in the UK due to contractual disagreements between Herb Cohen’s DiscReet and Richard Branson’s Virgin labels. Only test pressings were made, seven of which are known to exist. 1975 Japan on DiscReet P-10093-D Made in Japan with
Track list Debra Kadabra Carolina Hard-Core Ecstasy Sam With The Showing Scalp Flat Top Poofter’s Froth Wyoming Plans Ahead 200 Years Old Cucamonga Advance Romance Man With The Woman Head Muffin Man Live in concert at Armadillo World Headquarters, Austin, Texas 20th & 21 May 1975 Plus Selected Studio Wonderment Musicians Frank Zappa – lead guitar, vocals Captain Beefheart – harp, vocals, shopping bags George Duke – keyboards, vocals Napoleon Murphy Brock – sax, vocals Bruce Fowler – trombone, fantastic dancing Tom Fowler – bass, also dancing Denny Walley – slide guitar, vocals Terry Bozzio – drums, moisture Chester Thompson – drums (200 Years Old
A classic Cal Schenkel cover surrounds one of the most listenable Zappa / Mothers records since the old days, but anyone coming to this set to hear Beefheart will be semi-disappointed. Semi because he does a lot of singing on Bongo Fury, but what he’s singing are the same old Zappa lyrics, which deal with the same old Zappa hang-ups. It’s a strange experience to listen to the album’s first cut, “Debra Kadabra,” and hear Beefheart singing like Beefheart, but realize a little way into the song that he’s singing what is essentially a continuation of that ridiculous schtick about the poncho. Beefheart singing about
Sam with the showing scalp flat top, particular about the point it made. Why, when I was knee-high to a grasshopper, this black juice came out on a hard shelled chin. And that called that ‘tobacco juice’. I used to fiddle with my back feet music for a black onyx. My entire room absorbed every echo. The music was… thud like. The music was… thud like. I usually played such things as rough-neck and thug. Opaque melodies that would bug most people. Music from the other side of the fence. A black swan figurine lay on all color lily pads. On a little conglomeration table
The man with the woman head Polynesian wallpaper made the face stand out, a mixture of Oriental and early vaudeville jazz poofter, forming a hard, beetle-like triangular chin much like a praying mantis. Smoky razor-cut, low on the ear neck profile. The face the color of a nicotine-stained hand. Dark circles collected under the wrinkled, folded eyes, map-like from too much turquoise eyepaint. He showed his old tongue through ill-fitting wooden teeth, stained from too much opium, chipped from the years. The feet, brown wrinkles above straw loafers. A piece of cocoanut in a pink seashell caught the tongue and knotted into thin white strings.