Captain Beefart
This article was written by Mark Paytress and originally appeared in the April 1998 edition of Record Collector as an introduction to a series of articles about Captain Beefheart, including a brief overview of all his albums and an interview with Bill Harkleroad aka Zoot Horn Rollo.
There are musical mavericks… and then there is Captain Beefheart. Mark Paytress celebrates the rock genius turned artist.
Don Van Vliet is currently holed up in a Californian desert town. For the past 15 years, he has refused every attempt to persuade him to reactivate his musical career as Captain Beefheart. More recently, it has become clear that music will never be an option again due to his ill health. If recent reports are to be believed, it seems that Van Vliet's acclaimed rebirth as a painter has also been prematurely curtailed.
As our interview with one of his chief collaborators, Zoot Horn Rollo, confirms, life around the creative maelstrom that was Captain Beefheart wasn't always easy. Neither is the work. The appearance of "Trout Mask Replica" in every ‘Top 100 Albums' poll is recognition of Beefheart's unique place in rock, though you can guarantee it's the least played, and the worst-selling, of the lot.
Evangelists, of course, cannot imagine life without it. To them, records stack up like lottery hopefuls - way up above the millions of losers, thousands of minor successes and handfuls of life-changing significance, there's only ever one jackpot: "Trout Mask Replica" by Captain Beefheart and the Magic Band.
Misfits
But what exactly is Beefheart's achievement? To create a sound so baffling and (to some ears) so hideous that most bottom-end hit singles sell more in a month than "Trout Mask" has done in 30 years? To provide a badge with which classroom misfits can express their distaste for the 'straight' world? To subvert our 'natural' desire for harmonic and rhythmic order by obeying rules that may as well have been laid down by a madman? Yes, probably. And yet there's a contradiction here. Something has kept us moving on from skiffle to the Sex Pistols, from Merseybeat to drum & bass, and that's been an insatiable quest for newness - to the point where we now recycle Old as New. But, many musical revolutions later, the world has yet to experience anything quite like Captain Beefheart and his Magic, mythic minstrels.
Pontificating as to exactly why that is could take up the rest of this magazine. Clues can of course be found in our own responses. I don't think I was aware that Beefheart was a bona fide 'rock original' when I first heard him, with a group of schoolfriends in our early teens. That spanking new copy of "The Spotlight Kid" prompted laughter as much as anything -that name! That voice! Having read that "Trout Mask Replica" (only available on import at the time) was the meisterwerk, we persevered. Its unusually thick card sleeve opened to reveal a group of men looking as if they'd been dressed by a batty grandmother. In those less complicated days, there seemed to be a clear correlation between this sartorial heresy and the music, without a doubt the most shocking assault on the ears I could ever imagine.
While in short trousers, I remember how "Can't Buy Me Love" gave way to "Strawberry Fields Forever", how "Barbara Ann" became "Good Vibrations", and how quickly I'd regretted buying Simon Dupree's "Broken-Hearted Pirates" and the Hollies' "Sorry Suzanne". A theory; maybe there was something about hearing pop unfold so quickly during the 60s that imprinted the quest for genuine difference on an impressionable generation's collective mind. Or at least some of them. And maybe that's why Beefheart was allowed to flourish for a short while during the early 70s, and again at the end of the decade.
Vogue
More recently, a renewed spirit of musical adventure is inevitably bringing the Captain back into vogue. Why, even Noel Gallagher is playing Beefheart to his mates. Last year's The Artist Formerly Known As Captain Beefheart BBC TV profile dug out some fascinating archive footage, interspersing it with recollections from ex-colleagues and associates. But almost as interesting was the story behind the making of it, which suggested that while Beefheart might be ill, the very thought of incurring his wrath prevents many from discussing him publicly. Mike Barnes, who's currently working on a biography, has also encountered similar obstacles.
One omission from both the television documentary and Barnes' forthcoming book is Bill Harkleroad, alias Zoot Horn Rollo, the genius fretboard mangler on that run of classic albums from 1969's "Trout Mask Replica" to "Clear Spot" four years later. (Let's forget about 1974's "Unconditionally Guaranteed".) He talks here in his first full interview with a U.K magazine for over 20 years.
