Mystery Disc

 

 

Oh, I smoked a Pall Mall
Yes, I did
Oh, yeah

Sssh . . .

Oh, you can't fall on the floor, you know? You know, I make like I'm down on the floor, you know . . .

DO-DO-DO-DOH!

Hah hah . . .

LOUIE LOUIE!

Motorhead: Oh, yeah, I was out screwing this broad one time, we was in the car, you know, I had the radio turned down a little bit. Some shitty commercial came on.

(DOOT DOOT!)

Motorhead: She started telling about her, her girlfriends, you know they would go in the bathroom someplace, not at, at school, you know, at a gas station or something like that. And they would compare each other's box, man, and uh, compare tits and all this shit, and they'd tell how their boyfriends screwed 'em and all this stuff, you know, how exciting it was. I was screwing this girl and she was telling me all this shit.

Don Van Vliet: Ha ha ha!

?: Well, I'm waiting . . .

FZ: Get the rubber hose

Bob: Damn, I give this guy a ride, ha ha! You know, EEEEH! and stopped his car, and, hey hey hey, where you goin', eh? Wanna ride?

Motorhead: Sort of lost the, the desire to screw her after all that shit.

Went to the nearest supermarket
(And all you will mean to me in the future)
Stole a Hank magazine
(And each time)
Went home
(I think of those lovely eyes)
Ate some jello
(I think. of your smile that is so true)
And had a mellow mellow mellow . . . muelo
(And so dear to me)
Had a swell time
(And each year that I have known you, my love)
I knew
(I've needed you more)
I knew that my granny would be there
(Each day, each hour, each minute)
Because I had a crush on her
(It's pathetic, my darling)
Granny knew that I smoke Pall Mall
(To note . . . )

Emcee: Ladies and gentlemen, do you like the band?
Audience: Oh . . . no! Yeah!
Emcee: Uh? I wanna hear more than that! Do you like the band?
Audience: Yeah! . . . We don't dig it no more. They don't play there no more. We love it . . . Yeah!
Little Mary: Hey, we like the band, cat, but we don't like you. Now, get off!
Emcee: Well, Little Mary, we like you!
Audience: Yay!
Band Member: Hey, John, you know what key I've been doing that song in?
Emcee: Well, ladies and gentlemen, will you start slowly tonight [...] because we only have 'bout twenty minutes . . .
Band Member: That song you was singin' before.
Emcee: Twenty minutes before closing time.
Band Member: It was in G, wasn't it?
Emcee: And we appreciate your patronage and we hope you hurry back, because each and every weekend after the [...] is over, we are going to have many attractions coming into the Village Inn! So we would like each and every one's cooperation, and have a good time and enjoy yourselves. Let's give the band another hand! Toby on drums, Frankie Zappo on guitar, and our own Johnny Franklin on bass!

I've got to see you
Somehow
Not tomorrow
Right now
I know it's late
Oh, I can't wait
Come on and steal away
Please, steal away

Now don't start thinking
Trying to make up your mind
Your folks are sleeping
Let's not waste any time
I know it's late
Oh, I can't wait
Come on and steal away
Please, steal away

I know it's wrong
Asking this of you
There's no other way
I can be with you
If only your folks
Would approve
Things like these
We wouldn't have to do

Oh, I won't tell
Anybody else
I'll keep it to myself
I know it's late
Oh, I can't wait
Come on, and steal away
Please, steal away

I know it's wrong
Asking this of you
There's no other way
I can be with you
If only your folks
Would approve
Things like these
We wouldn't have to do

Oh, I won't tell
Anybody else
I'll keep it to myself
I know it's late
Oh, I can't wait
Come on, steal away
Please, steal away

'Cause I need you
Yes I do
Oh, by my side
Yes, yeah
'Cause I need you

I was a Teen-age Malt Shop! Ha ha!

Hello, there, kids, it's your old friend Captain Beefheart! You know, me, the magic man, invisible, and all that jazz, ha! Flies through time and space, dimension warp, all that rhythm. Well, anyway uh, I'm here tonight to tell you that we have a heck-of-a-little teenage opera for you. You're really gonna dig it, mmmh, yeah, it's really groovy!

Wheet!
Wheet! Wheet!
Wheet! Wheet!
Wheet! Wheet!
Wheet! Wheet!

Yaah,
Band aids!
Metal Man!
Dirty water!
Spoilin' me!
Spoilin'!
Spoilin'!
Turpentine!
Styrofoam!
[...]
Water [...]!
Crowbar!
Chlorine!
Death stroke!
Mojo!
(Woo-hoo!) Yeah, aaah!

Watch out!
Look out!
Water spout!
Don't shout!
Chin clout!
Look out!
Ah-ah! Woo-hoo! Yeah. Yeah . . .

Work out!
Work out!
Truck-out!
Water spout!
Water snout!
Bubblin' brook!
Water spout!
Bubblin' brook!
Work out!
I'm the cook!
I'm the cook!
I'm the cook!
Work out!
Don't shout!
Water spout!
Look out!
Water spout!
Water spout!
Twist and shout!
Twist and shout!

Metal Men!
Metal Men!
Iron men!
The Living Gun!
Hit the nostrils!
Make money!
Metal Men!
Work out!
Froze over!
Silent mandroid!
Don't!
Don't!

Now, woman,
Metal Men,
Hawkman,
'Lectro-flyer,
Announcement,
Has won his wings!
Has won his wings!
Has won his wings!
Has won his wings!

Wheet! Wheet!
Wheet! Wheet!
Wheet! Wheet!
Wheet! Wheet!
Wheet! Wheet!
Band aids, band aids, band aids!

FZ: Let it roll, take another one . . . Just the track this time

 

 

Here's another thing that you can do on the piano, if you have one around. If you get tired of playing "Home On The Range," by colors uh, you have to learn two different kinds of backgrounds. You can do 'em both in the key of C and you'll be alright. The first one is like this . . .

That one's pretty easy to master, and then there's another one which isn't too tricky either . . .

Now, those uh, backgrounds, those two backgrounds will work for, oh, I think it's a total of fifteen thousand different rock'n'roll songs that you can all sing at parties.

Charva, I loved you
I loved you through and through
I loved you since in grammar school
When we were sniffing glue
I loved you purty baby doll
And I don't know what in the world to do about it
Boppa-bah-boppa-choo-wah

Charva, my darling
The only love I had
I hope you will forgive me, dear
For punching out your dad
I loved you, I loved you
And I don't know what in the world I'm gonna do about it
Ooohh-oh-oooh
Lahm-buh-buhm-buhm

I remember, remember the junior prom
And I remember the time I broke your father's arm
And I remember, remember all the love we shared
Every place and everywhere

Oh Charva, Charva
I love you more and more
I swear it ain't because your father owns a liquor store
Charva, my baby
I love you and I don't know what to do about it
Oh-oh Charva
Ooooohh oh-oh Charva
Ooooohh, come back my little darling Charva
I love you so much, honey
Come back to me, Charva
Please Charva, please come back . . .

 

Yeah!

 

Ray: Oh, rock, rock!
Roy?: Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Rock, rock!
Ray: Hey, you know . . . you heard that bop-bop-bop bop . . . You notice there's ever been that bop bop-bop-bop bop-bop-chu-bop
Roy: I thought it was Bill Haley, I thought it was Bill Haley & The Comets
JCB?: It was, I-I, I couldn't remember the words . . .

When I won your love
I was very glad
Every happiness in the world
Belonged to me
Then our love was lost
And you went away
Now I shed my tears
In lonely misery

I know now that you never ever
Really loved me
It hurts me now to think you never ever
Really cared
I sit and ask myself a thousand times
To try and find
What really happened
To the love
That we shared

How could I be such a fool
How could I believe
All those lies you told me
How could I be taken in
By your sweet face
You spoiled our love
You ruined my life
I'm so tore down
I'm a terrible disgrace

But there will come a time
And you'll regret the way
You treated me
As if I was a fool
And didn't know
The many times you lied
About your love for me
Someone else is gonna know
That your love is just a show

Ray: Like to introduce the band: The Pachuco over there on '37 Chevy is Roy Estrada, on blankets Cherokee Jim Black, on rhythm guitar with a white light blue triangles behind him, Elliot "Bro" Ingber, I'm Ray Collins, and this is Mother Superior Frank Zappa.

Bill Graham: One of the big advantages of having these people on the stage is that they're one of the few groups of this kind that you can listen to, turn on to, and then dance to. This evening we're gonna listen, if you want to, if during the first set you want to dance, use the corners or use the stage if you like. After Lenny we're gonna clear away most of these chairs and, do what you like. Everybody's relatives, The Mothers!

Plastic people
You gotta go

Plastic people
You gotta go

Three nights and days
I walk the streets
This town is full
Of plastic creeps
Their shoes are brown
To match their suits
They got no balls
They got no roots . . . because they're

Plastic people
You gotta go
(Sure gonna miss ya)

Plastic people
You gotta go

PEEP!
POO-AHHH . . . PEEEP!
POOO-ARGggggH . . .

FZ: Please, won't somebody go to bed with Jimmy Carl Black. A desperate Indian if ever I've seen one!

 

?: Donnie!
Bunk: Hey, put that down!
Art: What are you doin', man?
Bunk: We're tryin' to do some serious . . .
(FZ: They're tellin' it's bullshit and stop it)
Art: What the fuck is this!
Ian: Don, why are you interrupting our beautiful piece?
Don: Silence, you fools . . .
(FZ: Ha ha ha! No, Donnie, more conviction!)
Don: SILENCE, you fools! Don't you believe in PROGRESS?
Bunk: Take that progress and stick it under a ROCK. We have to.
Don: We must overthrow the diatonic system.
(FZ: Yes.)
Art: Bullshit.
Don: We're coming to the beginning of a NEW ERA wherein the development of the inner self will be the most important factor.
Ian: Donnie, your music is full of shit, and besides that it ain't disciplined.
Don: Listen . . .
Bunk: Give me four-four.
Art: Togetherness.
Bunk: Yeah.
Ian: Some old melodies.
Don: Look, playing . . .
Art: Put on a tie!
Don: Playing that kind of music and eating meat . . . will never, you'll never be able to see my aura then.
Art: I've seen your aura a lot, and it really stinks.
Bunk: You've been drinking, Don
Ian: I can hear your aura and it's bad, man. Play any more
Bunk: Discipline, you need discipline.
Don: No . . .
Bunk: Four-four.
Don: It's got to be new, it's got to progress, it's got to evolve. THERE MUST BE GROWTH!
Bunk: Ah, man. My goodness . . .
Don: You've got to eat macrobiotic food.
(FZ: We're doing a play.)
Don: And study astrology. Delve into the occult world.
Ian: Well you can delve all you want but we're formin' a new group . . . go, go and do you some yoga exercises.
Don: Look.
Ian: Take care of business there.
Don: Mark my words . . . If you continue playing this music something strange may happen.
Bunk: Don't threaten me . . .
(FZ: By the end of the first show . . . )
Don: By the end of the first show . . . No, the second show.

FZ: So, at this point in the development of our plot the three talented members of the Mothers of Invention have quit the group to form their own band with a lot of discipline.
(Art: Yeah.)
FZ: This is what we need, is a nice disciplined combo!

FZ: And so that they would be completely packaged and fit in with the rest of the disciplined combo, the former members of the Mothers of Invention receive their initiation into the robot musical world.

Don: This makes me nervous. I'm gonna go do some yoga.
Bunk: Yeah, you better.

FZ: This is Euclid Motorhead Sherwood.

Motorhead: What's he doin', Ian?
Ian: He's nervous 'cause he couldn't play with our new group.
Motorhead: Oh, that's nice, look at those suits.

FZ: Motorhead covets the uniforms of the other band. And also shows some interest in the bum of Underwood.

Ian: Ayyyy
Motorhead: Hey, ten years ago I knew a lot of guys that had suits like this. They're really nice. Hey can I play in your band and get a suit like that too?
Ian: No!
Motorhead: But I like the suits and I can play good. I can play . . . I can play anything.
Ensemble: BOO! BOO! BOO!

FZ: Motorhead is lying. He can't play good, he can't play anything. He's trying to con his way into the other band. He knows they don't want him.

Bunk: I heard you play before.
Motorhead: But I got practicing and play good.
Ian: No discipline.

FZ: He's lying. He hasn't been practicing, he doesn't do shit.

Bunk: Last week he couldn't even count to four.
Art: Come on, beat it, man.
Motorhead: You can't do that to me, I'll fix you.
Art: Go ahead.
Motorhead: I'll get into your band. I'll get into your band.
Bunk: Okay Motorhead, just get out of the way.
Motorhead: You can't stop me, I'll get in there somehow.
Ian: Take a walk, you fruit.
Motorhead: There's no way you can stop me. I'll get ya!

FZ: Motorhead explains to the members of the Robot Combo that nothing can stop him. He will join their group whether they like it or not.

 

JCB: What's goin' on here? I thought we were gonna play a Rock & Roll concert.
Ian: Rock & Roll? I, I already quit the Mothers.
JCB: How are you gonna get laid if you don't play rock & roll and drink beer? You get laid after the concert if you play rock & roll, this kind of crap you're not gonna, you're not gonna get laid anyway with that uniform on. I'll tell you what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna quit I'm gonna go out and hustle me some chick, the hell with you.
Ian: Jimmy, you need some discipline.
JCB: I'm leaving the group.
Ensemble: Boo! Boo!

FZ: Jimmy Carl, I must inform you, I must inform you, Jimmy Carl, for your own good, that here in London you're not gonna get any pussy unless you look like a popstar. Fix him up! . . . Mod Jacket . . .
(JCB: Oh Jeezus . . . )
FZ: Frilly Mod Neckpiece, Jimi Hendrix wig, and a Feather Boa.

JCB: WAAAAAAAAAAHHH!

FZ: Jimmy Carl Black enters the audience to hustle some young ladies. And if you're really lucky, get something for the robots . . . Mmmm, their little mechanical things are going up and down, up and down . . .

Roy: Domino, Domino, Domino Biz-bo-OH,
Domino Biz-bo-OH, Amen, Domino Biz-bo, Hallelujah, eh . . .
FZ: Et cum spiritu tuo . . .
Roy: Ian, I don't think I qualify for the Mothers
(FZ: They're making up their lines as they go along, isn't it thrilling?)
Roy: I think I'm holding the group back because I'm a MEXICAN. And also because I don't play bass good.
Ian: I don't care how you can play bass but we have NO MEXICANS in this group.
Roy: And I wanna join your group.
Ian: No Mexicans!
Roy: I can sing opera, I have already quit, I cut my hair, I got all my shit together here. I can do it.
Ian: I don't care how you look you gotta be able to cut the part.
Roy: I can sing. Please. Please, Ian, give me a CHANCE.
Ian: I don't believe you can sing.
Roy: Ah, PLEASE! Ah, Ian, PLEASE, IAN! Please!
Ian: Okay Mexican
Roy: Please?
Ian: Okay Mexican
Roy: Okay.
Ian: Sing this note:

Roy (with JCB):
You think everything gonna be alright.

Ian: Okay. You passed the first part of your audition. Now you gotta sing . . .
Roy: Mi, mi, mi, mi . . .

Poo-lah
Poo-la-ah poo-lah
Poo-da poo-lah poo-lah poo-oo-lah
Wee-ooo-wee-ooo-eee-eee-ooo-ooo
Ah-ah-ah ah-aaah-ah-aaah
Aa-aa-ah aa-ah
Wee-ooo-wee-ooo
Aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aah

Ensemble: BOO! BOO!

FZ: The rejected Mexican pope leaves the stage.

Ensemble:
TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
ONE, TWO, THREE . . .

FZ: Motorhead is attempting to join the band . . . Undaunted, the band plays on . . . Meanwhile, the snack enters the mind of Dom DeWild.

Ensemble:
ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE

FZ: It's the macro-biotic food.

Don: HA HA HA HA HA!

Ensemble: THREE! FOUR! . . . TWO! TWO!

FZ: While the well-disciplined Ian Underwood plays his piano solo, Dom DeWild, transformed, begins to sneak up on him.

Ensemble: BOO . . . BOO . . . BOO . . .

Sell us a president, agency man
Smiling Big Brother, stern father perhaps
Sell us a president, agency man
A gay smiling nothing we know never craps

We'll sell him in the movies
On the tube throughout the year
We'll sell him by the buckets
To the Okies drinking beer

We'll teach him how to walk and talk
We'll putty up his chin
We'll print his picture everywhere
Of course the SCHMUCK will win

From the heart of old Death Valley
To the ruling of our land
A simple trick, you simple pigs
Just the way we planned

Sell us a president, agency man
Smiling Big Brother, stern father perhaps
Sell us a president, agency man
A gay smiling nothing we know never craps

One, two, three, four!

When he's closed the schools
And burned the books the way we've planned
We'll get the press together
And the Barry Sadler Band!

(Another one!)

(Rousing, mmh . . . )

When he's closed the schools
And burned the books the way we've planned
We'll get the press together
And the Barry Sadler Band!

With lots to drink from 9 o'clock
They'll all be bombed by 10
We'll reveal he's bound for Washington
And sell him once again!

FZ: Okay!
Ray: That ending— That ending comes up like ransa-pransa-prance . . .
FZ: Okay, now the next ransa-pransa . . .

FZ: Go!

One, two . . .

We'll sell him in the movies
On the tube throughout the year
We'll sell him by the buckets
To the Okies drinking beer

We'll teach him how to walk and talk
We'll putty up his chin
We'll print his picture everywhere
Of course the SCHMUCK will win

FZ: You gotta, you gotta sing, "Of course the schmuck will win" on the end.
Ray: Yeah . . .
Roy: Take it, Don.
Ray: . . . that sound kind of funny if we're rumpa-pumping and then we stop and go uh, "Of course the schmuck will win."
FZ: Yeah, it's a little funny.

People are a lot of pigs
They're greedy and they're dumb
I'm sure that's just a simple truth
Look how far he's come!

From the heart of old Death Valley
To the ruling of our land
A simple trick, you simple pigs
Just the way we planned

FZ: Mothers Of Invention have spent many long hours in rehearsal trying to perfect their musical technique which they hope that you will enjoy, but if you don't enjoy it, go fuck yourself . . . AND, as I said, it's a problem in semantics. You have to understand what I mean when I tell you to go . . .

 

Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh, Oh, Oh

Little right there, little right there, oh, a little right there!
Right there, oh-oh!
Right there, oh! Ah! Ah! . . . Ah-h-h-h . . .

More, more, more, more, more,
More, more, more, more, more,
More, more, more, more, more,
More, more, more, more, more . . . Oh . . . oh, God!

More, more, mo-mo-mo-mo-more, mo-mo-more!

He's had enough, he's had enough!
Bwah-hah-ha-hah, gettin' off, gettin' off!
Bwah-hah-ha-hah, gettin' off, gettin' off!
Bwoh-hoh-ha-hah, more!

Oh God, oh God, oh more . . . more . . .

Oh, God, oh, God!

Touch it! Touch it! Touch it! Touch it!
Skweezit! Skweezit!

Annie: "Son-of-a-bitch, you did this one, you did that one," he told me.

FZ: How could you do this to him?

Annie: I told him that I did something and I was happy for doing it, you know, I'm happy now, I don't care, you know, what you think. "You are happy? I'm more happy than anyone," he said; meanwhile, he's sittin' there completely miserable, tellin' me that he's more happy than the whole house put together, he has more intelligence than the whole house put together, and he's sitting there with his dumb words, "Oh, you son-of-a-bitch, you're a schmuck and you're a schmuck," nothing, you know, nice about people, 'cause all people is shitty to him, you know, and I tried to explain to, I says, that they're not, you know? It's just how you take 'em, I mean, he's . . .

FZ: Why do you call him 'Willie The Pimp'?

Annie: Oh, because we, just imagined uh, him . . . wait—

Cynthia: The Lido Hotel.

Annie: Oh, yeah, the Lido Hotel, this perverted hotel in Coney Island, really perverted. So we made up this story about my mother um, ha-ha, calling up Willie telling that we're a woman uh, body shapes ah, 38-25-40 or something like that, some bizarre shape, blonde hair and all decked out insanely and um, tell him to meet us in front of the uh, Lido Hotel. And, ha-ha, then we, what we were gonna do, if we really would do this, like we'll make sure, we'll see him like, you know, casually leave the house at this certain time and we'll know that, you know, he's leaving to meet this woman, that's not gonna be there. Then we'll have my mother walk by, and see how she's gonna take it, right? You know, like, "Stella, what're you doing here? No! You gotta get away!" You know, how is he gonna tell my mother that he's gonna meet this broad or something, you know? So we made him a pimp, that he gotta pimp my mother off, then he tried to pimp us off . . .

Yeah!

POO-AHH!
Huh!

Chucha
Why won't you accept my proposal?
Don't you know
I'm at your disposal
Ooh my Chucha

Chucha
Why won't you accept my proposal?
Don't you know
I'm at your disposal
Chu-cha

Accept my proposal
Accept my proposal
'Cause I'm at your disposal
'Cause I'm at your disposal
Accept my proposal
Accept my proposal
Chucha my darling
For me

Your love is fine
All of the time
I feel your heartbeat
Real close to mine
My darling dear

Please never leave me
Please never go
Please don't deceive me
Girl don't you know
My darling dear

Your love is mine
All of the time
I feel your heartbeat
Real close to mine
My darling dear

Please never leave me
Please never go
Please don't . . .

Bunk: I'd like to dedicate an ode to Joe Lattanzi who played third base for the North-American Italian Club: Oh, Joe . . .
JCB: Oh, Joe! Joe, Roy. Oh, Joe . . .
Art: Where you going with that thing in your pants?
Bunk: This is Bunk Sweet Pants Gardner.
JCB: Sock it to him, guy!
Bunk: Why don't you step out here and pack it to me, Art? Glistening white skin, Art!
JCB: Roy, what did Frank always say? He said we could say anything we want to, didn't he?
Art: Corn on that cob . . .
JCB: You'd better take care of all those kids, especially Geronimo, Darrell, Gary . . .
Roy: Ay, Indio, Indio . . .
?: Kim.
JCB: Jina, and Kim.
Roy: I'm here from Calif, ay!
JCB: Calif, California!
?: Calif! Oh, man!
JCB: All right, Santa Ana, California.
Ian: Roy and Jim have a special kind of form of communication . . . To illustrate this point we'll now have a conversation between Roy and Jim . . .
JCB: I refuse!
Ian: As if, as if it was happening in the back seat of a car in San Francisco.
JCB: How 'bout you?
Roy: How 'bout you?
JCB: How 'bout you? . . . Pink?
Roy: Yeah
JCB: Sure?
Roy: Mhm!
JCB: Mhm-hm-mhm!
Roy: Estáis loco, indio!
JCB: Caray, hombre!
Roy: Estás loco.
JCB: Estás loco, estás loco.
Roy: Wannanenema? Wannanenema?
Art: The recipe is available by mail.

Wanna wanna wannanenema
Yeah-nema
WOAHH!
RAY COLLINS, WE LOVE YOU

Ian: We'll never forget you.
Roy: No.
Ian: We'll never forget you.

Hratche Plche Hratche Plche
Hratche Plche Hratche Plche
(American way!)
Hratche Plche Hratche Plche
(Ray Ray Ray . . . )
Hratche Plche Hratche Plche
(Help, I'm a rock!)
Hratche Plche Hratche Plche
Hratche Plche Hratche Plche
(Ray Ray Ray . . . )

Ian: Now, ladies and gentlemen, Don Preston.
Don: I have an organ, a piano, a harpsichord uh, uh, forty-five oscillators and uh, that's my instruments.
Bunk: I've got a uh, bass clarinet, and a clarinet, and a piccolo, and a flute and an alto flute, and a tenor and an alto, and a soprano, and a chanter, and a C melody.
Art: I have a low cowbell, and a hi cowbell.
?: Oh, Art!
?: You never heard about that, did you?
Art:I have a snare drum and I have a hi tom tom and a low tom tom, I have four melody horns, and they go beep, and I have a slapstick which Don Preston graciously gave to me.
Don: And caresses now.
Art: And it goes pap, and uh, then I have Ga—, Bunk Gardner, and whenever I goose him, he goes 'Bunk'.
Bunk Bunk
Bunk!
Bunk Bunk!
Ian: The other half of the percussion section is Jimmy Carl Black who plays . . .
JCB: I have a red set of drums.
How you doin' Gary!
Ian: And when, and when the whole band gets together, and plays all these wonderful instruments it sounds like this . . .

Play the harmonica . . .