(The Mothers Of Invention, LP, Bizarre/Verve V6-5068, March 24, 1969)
Song timings and track separations based on the Zappa Records/Universal 2012 CD version.
Produced by Tom Wilson and FZ
Director of engineering: Val Valentin
Engineered by Ami Hadani, Tom Hidley, Gary Kellgren and Dick Kunc
Cover design by Cal Schenkel
includes a quotation from Little Deuce Coupe (Wilson/Christian)
T.T.G. Studios, LA
November 18, 1966
FZ—guitar, vocals
Ray Collins—vocals, tambourine
Jim Fielder—guitar, piano
Don Preston—keyboards
Bunk Gardner—woodwinds
Roy Estrada—bass, vocals
Jim Black—drums, vocals
Billy Mundi—drums, percussion
+
Jim Getzoff—violin
Marshall Sosson—violin
Alvin Dinkin—viola
Armand Kaproff—cello
Don Ellis—trumpet
John Rotella—contra-bass clarinet
+
Lisa Cohen—Suzy Creamcheese
Brown shoes
Don't make it
Brown shoes
Don't make it
Quit school
Why fake it?
Brown shoes
Don't make it . . .
TV dinner by the pool
Watch your brother grow a beard
Got another year of school
You're okay—he's too weird
Be a plumber
He's a bummer
He's a bummer
Every summer
Be a loyal plastic robot for a world that doesn't care . . .
Smile at every ugly
Shine on your shoes & cut your hair
Be a joik
And go t' woik
Be a joik
And go t' woik
Be a joik
And go t' woik
Be a joik
And go t' woik
Do your job & do it right
Life's a ball
TV tonight . . .
Do you love it?
Do you hate it?
There it is . . .
The way you made it . . .
YARRRRRRRRRRRGH-H-H!
A world of secret hungers
Perverting the men who make your laws
Every desire is hidden away
In a drawer . . . in a desk
By a Naugahyde chair
On a rug where they walk and drool
Past the girls in the office
Hratche-plche
Hratche-plche
Hratche-plche
Hratche-plche
We see in the back of the City Hall mind
The dream of a girl about thirteen
Off with her clothes and into a bed
Where she tickles his fancy all night lonnnnnnnnng
His wife's attending an orchid show
She squealed for a week to get him to go
But back in the bed, his teen-age queen
Is rocking & rolling & acting obscene
Baby baby
Hratche-plche
Hratche-plche
Baby baby
Hratche-plche
Hratche-plche
And he loves it! He loves it! It curls up his toes
She bites his fat neck and it lights up his nose
But he cannot be fooled, old City Hall Fred
She's nasty! She's nasty! She digs it in bed!
Do it again and do it some more
That does it by golly, it's nasty for sure
Nasty nasty nasty, nasty nasty nasty
(Only thirteen and she knows how to nasty . . . )
She's a dirty young mind
Corrupted, corroded
Well she's thirteen today
And I hear she gets loaded
P-pum-m-mum-m-mum-m-mum
P-pum-m-mum-m-mum-m-mum
P-bum
If she were my daughter, I'd . . .
What would you do daddy?
If she were my daughter, I'd . . .
What would you do daddy?
If she were my daughter, I'd . . .
What would you do daddy?
Smother my daughter in chocolate syrup
And strap her on again, oh baby!
Smother that girl in chocolate syrup
And strap her on again
She's a teen-age baby and she turns me on
I'd like to make her do a nasty on the White House lawn
Gonna smother that girl in chocolate syrup—
And boogie till the cows come home
Time to go home—Madge is on the phone
Gotta meet the Gurney's
And a dozen grey attorneys
TV dinner by the pool
I'm so glad I finished school
Life is such a ball
I run the world from City Hall!
Mayfair and Apostolic Studios, NYC
July-October, 1967
FZ—guitar, piano, lead vocals
Ian Underwood—piano, woodwinds
Motorhead Sherwood—soprano & baritone saxophone
Bunk Gardner—all woodwinds
Roy Estrada—electric bass, vocals
Billy Mundi—drums, vocal
Jimmy Carl Black—drums, trumpet, vocals
We are the other people
We are the other people
We are the other people
You're the other people too
Found a way to get to you . . .
Do you think that I'm crazy?
Out of my mind?
Do you think that I creep in the night
And sleep in a phone booth?
Lemme take a minute & tell you my plan
Lemme take a minute & tell who I am
If it doesn't show,
Think you better know
I'm another person
Do you think that my pants are too tight?
Do you think that I'm creepy?
Better look around before you say you don't care
Shut your fuckin' mouth about the length of my hair
How would you survive
If you were alive
Shitty little person?
We are the other people
We are the other people
We are the other people
You're the other people too
Found a way to get to you
We are the other people
We are the other people
We are the other people
You're the other people too
Found a way to get to you
Do you think that I love you . . .
Stupid & blind?
Do you think that I dream through the night
Of holding you near me?
includes quotations from Le sacre du printemps (Stravinsky), L'oiseau de feu (The Firebird) (Stravinsky), Duke Of Earl (Dixon/Edwards/Williams), and Baby Love (Holland/Dozier/Holland)
T.T.G. Studios, LA
November 15-16, 1966
FZ—guitar, vocals
Ray Collins—vocals, tambourine, PRUNE
Jim Fielder—guitar, piano
Don Preston—keyboards
Bunk Gardner—woodwinds
Roy Estrada—bass, vocals
Jim Black—drums, vocals
Billy Mundi—drums, percussion
A moonbeam through the prune
In June
Reveals your chest
I see your lovely beans
And in that magic go-kart
I bite your neck
The cheese I have for you
My dear
Is real
And very new!
A moonbeam through the prune
In June
Reveals your chest
I see your lovely beans
And in that magic go-kart
I bite your neck
The love I have for you
My dear
Is real
And very new!
Doh-Doh-Doh Doh-Doh
Prune!
(Pah-Da-Dahhh!)
If it is a real prune . . .
(Pah-Da-Dahhh!)
Knows no cheese!
(Chunka Chunk . . .
Chunka Chunka Chunka Chunka Chunk . . . )
And stands . . .
(Oh No-o-o-o!)
Taller & stronger
Than any tree
Or bush!
And I know
The love I have for you
Will grow & grow & grow
I think
And so my love
I offer you
A love that is strong
A prune that is true!
LA LA LALA LA LA LALALA LAH LAH LAH LA LA
LA LA LA LA OOOOOOOOH!
(Chunka Chunka Chunka . . . )
LA LA LA LALA . . .
My darling . . . you mean so very much to me . . . I love
you so deeply! It just makes me . . .
LA LA LA LA LA LA etc.
(Duke, Duke, Duke, Duke of Prunes, Prunes)
I hardly recognize you, darling . . . Oh, I'll never forget you, darling. . .
(Prunes, Duke of Prunes, Prunes, Prunes)
Oh I suppose I will forget you eventually . . . In fact, I've already forgotten you . . .
(Duke of Prunes, Prunes, Prunes)
What is your name? Nice to see you again.
And you'll be my Douchess
My Douchess of Prunes
A moonbeam through the prune
In June
Reveals your chest
I see your lovely beans
And in that magic go-kart
I bite your neck
The cheese I have for you
My dear
Is real
And very new!
(New cheese!)
Prunes!
(Pah-Da-Dahhh!)
If they are fresh prunes . . .
(Pah-Da-Dahhh!)
Know no cheese!
(Chunka Chunka Chinky Chunky Stinky Stanky . . . )
And they just lie there
Drowning & sickening
And it's just . . . I dunno
Oh-h-h-h-h!
And I know
I think
The love I have for you
Will never end
Well . . . maybe
(Whah!)
And so my love
I offer you
A love that is strong
A prune that is true!
(Ha Ha!)
This is the exciting part . . .
It's like the SUPREMES . . .
See the way it builds up
BABY BABY
D'ya feel it?
BABY BABY
My prune is yours, my love
My cheese for you
My baby prune
My baby prune
I do like you
My baby cheese etc., etc.
You know I do
My dear
I love you etc., etc.
Oh cheesy fat
Oh cheesy fat
Oh cheesy fat
Oh baby fat
Oh cheesy fat
Oh baby blue
Cheesy, cheesy!
includes quotations from The Planets Suite (Gustav Holst), God Bless America (Irving Berlin), America The Beautiful (Ward/Bates), Marine's Hymn (trad.) and L'histoire du soldat (Stravinsky)
T.T.G. Studios, LA
November 16, 1966
FZ—guitar, vocals
Ray Collins—vocals, tambourine
Jim Fielder—guitar, piano
Don Preston—keyboards
Bunk Gardner—woodwinds
Roy Estrada—bass, vocals
Jim Black—drums, vocals
Billy Mundi—drums, percussion
(This is a song about vegetables . . . they keep you regular; they're real good for ya.)
Call any vegetable
(Call any vegetable)
Call it by name
(Call any vegetable)
Call one today
(Call any vegetable)
When you get off the train
(Call any vegetable)
Call any vegetable
And the chances are good
Ooooh! The vegetable
Will respond to you
(Some people don't go for prunes . . . I dunno . . . I've always found that if they . . . )
Call any vegetable
(Call any vegetable)
Pick up your phone
(Call any vegetable)
Think of a vegetable
(Call any vegetable)
Lonely at home
(Call any vegetable)
Call any vegetable
And the chances are good
That a vegetable will respond to you-hoooo
RUTA-BAY-AY-AYGA RUTA-BAY-AY-AYGA
RUTA-BAY-AY-AYGA RUTA-BAY-AY-AYGA
RUTA-BAYYYYY . . .
(A prune isn't really a vegetable. Cabbage is a vegetable.)
No one will know
If you don't want to let 'em know
No one will know
'Less it's you that might tell 'em so
Call and they'll come to you
Covered with dew
Vegetables dream
Of responding to you
Standing there
Shiny & proud by your side
Holding your hand
While the neighbors decide
Why is a vegetable
Something to hide?
YAR-R-R-R-R-G-H!
A lot of people don't bother about their friends in the VEGETABLE KINGDOM. They think, "Ah, what can I say? What can a person like myself say to a vegetable?" But the answer is simple, my friends . . . just call . . . and tell them how you feel . . . about MUFFINS, PUMPKINS, WAX PAPER, CALEDONIA, MAHOGANIES, ELBOWS AND GREEN THINGS IN GENERAL . . . and soon: A NEW RAPPORT! You and your new little green & yellow buddies . . . grooving together! OH NO! Maintaining your coolness together! Worshipping together in the church of your choice! ONLY IN AMERICA! Woh-oh-oh-ah-agh-h . . .
Call any vegetable
Call it by name
You gotta call one today
When you get off the train
Call any vegetable
And the chances are good
AR-R-H-R that the vegetable
Will respond to you . . .
OH NO! Can you see them responding?
The PUMPKIN is breathing hard:
HUFFA PUFFA HUFFA PUFFA etc.
what a pumpkin . . .
includes a line from the Run Home, Slow soundtrack
Mayfair and Apostolic Studios, NYC
July-October, 1967
FZ—guitar, piano, lead vocals
Ian Underwood—piano, woodwinds
Motorhead Sherwood—soprano & baritone saxophone
Bunk Gardner—all woodwinds
Roy Estrada—electric bass, vocals
Billy Mundi—drums, vocal
Jimmy Carl Black—drums, trumpet, vocals
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
The window all covered in green
All the time he would spend
At the church he'd attend . . .
Warming his pew
Kenny will feed him & Ronnie will watch
The child will thrive & grow
And enter the world
Of liars & cheaters & people like you
Who smile & think you know
What this is about
(You think you know everything . . . maybe so)
The song we sing: Do you know?
We're listening . . .
The idiot boy!
Try and imagine
The window all covered in green
All the time he would spend
All the colors he'd blend . . .
Where are they now?
includes a quotation from Funiculì Funiculà (Denza/Turco)
T.T.G. Studios, LA
March 12, 1966
FZ—vocals
Ray Collins—vocals
Roy Estrada—vocals
Jim Black—vocals
+
Jean Vassar as Suzy Creamcheese
And maybe some other freaks
It can't happen here
It can't happen here
I'm telling you, my dear
That it can't happen here
Because I been checkin' it out, baby
I checked it out a couple a times
But I'm telling you
It can't happen here
Oh darling, it's important that you believe me
(Bop bop bop bop)
That it can't happen here
Who could imagine that they would freak out somewhere
in Kansas . . .
(Kansas . . . Kansas . . . Kansas . . . Kansas . . . )
(Kansas, Kansas, do-do-dun to-to
Kansas, Kansas, la la la)
(Kansas, Kansas, do-do-dun to-to
Kansas, Kansas)
Who could imagine that they would freak out in Minnesota . . .
(Mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi
Mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi . . . )
(Mama Minnesota, Mama Minnesota, Mama Minnesota,
Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma Mama Minnesota,
Mama Minnesota, Mama Minnesota,
Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma Mama Minnesota)
Who could imagine
That they would freak out in Washington, D.C.
(AC/DC bop-bop-bop)
(AC/DC do-do-do-dun, AC/DC
Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma, AC/DC)
But it can't happen here
Oh baby, it can't happen here
(AC/DC bop-bop-bop)
Oh baby, it can't happen here
(AC/DC bop-bop-bop)
It can't happen here
Everybody's safe and it can't happen here
(AC/DC bop-bop-bop)
No freaks for us
(AC/DC bop-bop-bop)
It can't happen here
(AC/DC bop-bop-bop)
Everybody's clean and it can't happen here
No, no, it won't happen here
(No, no, it won't happen here)
(AC/DC bop-bop-bop)
I'm telling you it can't
(AC/DC bop-bop-bop)
It won't happen here
Bop-bop-ditty-bop
(I'm not worried at all, I'm not worried at all)
Ditty-bop-bop-bop
Plastic folks, you know
It won't happen here
You're safe, mama
(No no no)
You're safe, baby
(No no no)
You just cook a tv dinner
(No no no)
And you make it
Bop bop bop
(No no no)
Oh, we're gonna get a tv dinner and cook it up
(No no no no no no no!)
Oh, get a tv dinner and cook it up
Cook it up
Oh, and it won't happen here
Who could imagine
That they would freak out in the suburbs!
(No no no no no no no no no no
Man you guys are really safe
Everything's cool)
I remember (tu-tu)
I remember (tu-tu)
I remember (tu-tu)
They had a swimming pool
I remember (tu-tu)
I remember (tu-tu)
They had a swimming pool
I remember (tu-tu)
I remember (tu-tu)
They had a swimming pool
And they thought it couldn't happen here
(duh duh duh)
They knew it couldn't happen here
They were so sure it couldn't happen here
But . . .
Suzy . . .
Yes yes, oh yes—I've always felt that
Yes, I agree man, it really makes it . . . yeah . . .
Psychedelic!
It's a real THING, man, it really makes it
FZ: Suzy, you just got to town, and we've been . . . we've been very interested in your development . . . since you first took the shots
Suzy: Forget it!
Hmmmmmmmmm
(It can't happen here)
(Can't happen here . . . )
(Can't happen here . . . )
T.T.G. Studios, LA
March 9, 1966
FZ—guitar & vocals
Ray Collins—vocals, tambourine
Jim Black—drums
Roy Estrada—bass
Elliot Ingber—guitar
+
Eugene DiNovi—piano
Gene Estes—percussion
Neil LeVang—guitar
Bop bop-bop bop-bop bop-BOW
Bop bop-bop bop-bop bop-BOW
You're probably wondering
Why I'm here
And so am I
So am I
Just as much as you wonder
'Bout me bein' in this place
(Yeah!)
That's just how much I marvel
At the lameness on your face
You rise each day the same old way
And join your friends out on the street
Spray your hair
And think you're neat
I think your life is incomplete
But maybe that's not for me to say
They only pay me here to play
(I wanna hear Caravan with a drum sola!)
You're probably wondering
Why I'm here
And so am I
So am I
Just as much as you wonder
'Bout me starin' back at you
(Yeah!)
That's just how much I question
The corny things you do
You paint your face and then you chase
To meet the gang where the action is
Stomp all night
And drink your fizz
Roll your car and say "Gee whiz!"
You tore a big hole in your convertible top
What will you tell your Mom and Pop?
(Mom, I tore a big hole in the convertible)
You're probably wondering
Why I'm here
And so am I
So am I
Just as much as you wonder
If I mean just what I say
(Yeah!)
That's just how much I question
The social games you play
You told your Mom you're stoked on Tom
And went for a cruise in Freddie's car
Tommy's asking
Where you are
You boogied all night in a cheesy bar
Plastic boots and plastic hat
And you think you know where it's at?
You're probably wondering
Why I'm here
(Not that it makes a heck of a lot of a difference to ya)
T.T.G. Studios, LA
March 9, 1966
FZ—guitar & vocals
Ray Collins—vocals
Jim Black—drums
Roy Estrada—bass
Elliot Ingber—guitar
+
Eugene DiNovi—piano
Gene Estes—percussion
Neil LeVang—guitar
What will you do if we let you go home,
And the plastic's all melted,
And so is the chrome?
WHO ARE THE BRAIN POLICE?
What will you do when the label comes off,
And the plastic's all melted,
And the chrome is too soft?
WAAAAHHHHHH!
I think I'm gonna die . . .
I think I'm gonna die . . .
I think I'm going to die . . .
I think I'm going to die . . .
I think I'm going to die . . .
I think I'm going to die . . .
I'm gonna die . . .
I think I'm going to die . . .
I think I'm gonna die . . .
I'm going to die . . .
I think I'm gonna die . . .
I think I'm gonna die . . .
I think I'm gonna die . . .
Going to die!
WHO ARE THE BRAIN POLICE?
What will you do if the people you knew
Were the plastic that melted,
And the chromium too?
WHO ARE THE BRAIN POLICE?
includes quotations from Louie Louie (Berry)
T.T.G. Studios, LA
November 15, 1966
FZ—guitar, vocals
Ray Collins—vocals, tambourine
Jim Fielder—guitar
Don Preston—keyboards
Bunk Gardner—woodwinds
Roy Estrada—bass, vocals
Jim Black—drums, vocals
Billy Mundi—drums, percussion
Ladies & Gennelmen . . . the PRESIDENT of the UNITED STATES!
Fella Americans . . .
DOOT, DOOT, DOOT . . . DOOT . . .
He's been sick.
DOO-OO-OOT . . . DOOT! DOOT!
(Teet-Teet . . . Teet-Teet . . . Teet-Teet . . . Teet-Teet-Teet)
And I think his wife is gonna bring him some chicken soup.
DOOT, DOOT (Teet-Teet)
Plastic people
Oh baby, now . . .
You're such a drag
(I know it's hard to defend an unpopular policy every once in a while . . . )
Plastic people
Oh baby, now
You're such a drag
(And there's this guy from the CIA and he's creeping around Laurel Canyon . . . )
A fine little girl
She waits for me
She's as plastic
As she can be
She paints her face
With plastic goo
And wrecks her hair
With some shampoo
Plastic people
Oh baby, now
You're such a drag
(I dunno . . . sometimes I just get tired of ya, honey . . . it's—Ah—your hair spray . . . or something.)
Plastic people
Oh baby!
You're such a drag
(I hear the sound of marching feet . . . down Sunset Blvd. to Crescent Heights, and there, at Pandora's Box, we are confronted with . . . a vast quantity of PLASTIC PEOPLE.)
Take a day
And walk around
Watch the nazis
Run your town
Then go home
And check yourself
You think we're singing
'Bout someone else . . . but you're
Plastic people!
(Woooooooooooooooooooh!)
Oh baby, now . . .
You're such a drag
Ooo-Ooo-Ooo Ooo-Ooo-Ooo Ooo-Ooo-Ooo Ooooooooh!
Me see a neon
Moon above
I searched for years
I found no love
I'm sure that love
Will never be
A product of
Plasticity
A product of
Plasticity
A product of
Plasticity:
FZ:
PLASTIC! PLASTIC PEOPLE!
PLA-HA-HA-HA-HA . . .
PLASTIC . . . PEOPLE
PLASTIC PEOPLE . . . OO-OOOH OO-OOH . . .
PLASTIC . . .
A prune is a vegetable . . . no, a prune is not a vegetable. Cabbage is a vegetable . . . makes it O.K. PLASTIC PEOPLE . . . PLASTIC PEOPLE, PLASTIC PEOPLE!
Ooo-Hoo-Hoo . . . Ooo-ooh-ooh-ooh Hoo-Hoo
Ooh-ooh Ooh-Hoo-Hoo-Hoo
Ray:
You are. Your foot. Your hair. Your nose. Your arms. You eat. You suck. You love. You are. Your being is . . . you're PLASTIC . . . PEOPLE . . . BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH . . . plastic pepples . . . [...]
You drive. You live in. You dream about . . . you think only of . . . you eat . . . you are . . . pepples . . . plastic . . . plastic pepples . . .
Purple prancing. Plastic people. Every pepples . . .
Peep-peep Pee-pee-pee-pee-pee-pee-pee-pee-peep!
T.T.G. Studios, LA
March 9, 1966
FZ—lead guitar & vocals
Ray Collins—vocals, tambourine
Jim Black—drums
Roy Estrada—bass
Elliot Ingber—guitar
+
Eugene DiNovi—piano
Gene Estes—percussion
Neil LeVang—guitar
Mister America
Walk on by
Your schools that do not teach
Mister America
Walk on by
The minds that won't be reached
Mister America
Try to hide
The emptiness that's you inside
When once you find that the way you lied
And all the corny tricks you tried
Will not forestall the rising tide of
Hungry freaks, Daddy . . .
They won't go
For no more
Great mid-western hardware store
Philosophy that turns away
From those who aren't afraid to say
What's on their minds
(The left-behinds of the Great Society)
Hungry freaks, Daddy . . .
Mister America
Walk on by
Your supermarket dream
Mister America
Walk on by
The liquor store supreme
Mister America
Try to hide
The product of your savage pride
The useful minds that it denied
The day you shrugged and stepped aside
You saw their clothes and then you cried:
THOSE HUNGRY FREAKS, DADDY!
They won't go
For no more
Great mid-western hardware store
Philosophy that turns away
From those who aren't afraid to say
What's on their minds
(The left-behinds of the Great Society)
T.T.G. Studios, LA
Prob. November 17, 1966
FZ—guitar, vocals
Ray Collins—vocals, tambourine
Jim Fielder—guitar
Don Preston—keyboards
Bunk Gardner—woodwinds
Roy Estrada—bass, vocals
Jim Black—drums, vocals
Billy Mundi—drums, percussion
+
Herb Cohen—cash register machine
Terry Gilliam & girlfriend—voices
Here's a special request . . . hope you'll enjoy it!
I tried to find
How my heart
Could be so blind, dear
How could I be fooled
Just like the rest
You came on strong
With your fast car
And your class ring
Soft voice and your sad eyes
I fell for the whole thing
I don't regret
Having met
Up with a girl who
Breaks hearts like they were
Nothing at all
I've done it too
Now I know
Just what it feels like
And just like I said
There's no regrets
. . . Well, it's about time to close . . . I hope you've had as much fun as we have. Don't forget the jam session Sunday . . . MANDY TENSION will be by, playing his xylophone troupe. It's really been a lot of fun. Monday night is the dance contest night: THE TWIST CONTEST . . . we're gonna give away peanut butter & jelly & baloney samwiches for all of ya. IT REALLY HAS BEEN FUN. I hope we've played your requests . . . the songs you like to hear . . . LAST CALL FOR ALCOHOL! Drink it up, folks. Wonnerful. Nice to see you, Bob . . . how's it goin'? How's the kids? Wonnerful. Nice to see ya. Yes. BILL BAILEY? Oh . . . we'll get to that tomorrow night. Yeah. CARAVAN (with a drum sola)? Right. Yeah . . . we'll do that. Wonnerful. Nice to see you again. Yeah.
LA LA LA LA LAH-H-H-H!
DOWN AT THE POMPADOUR A-GO-GO
LA LA LA LA LAH-H-H-H!
VO DO DEE OH PEE PEE
SHOOBE DOOT-N-DAH-DAH-DAH
YA DA DA-A-A-A-H-H-H-H-H!
NA NYA DA DA DA DA DAH-H-H-H-H-H!
Nite all.
All compositions by Frank Zappa except as noted