Zappa on Art in America
Lyons / Friedman: In the past you have said that "art is dying in this country." What do you mean by this?
Frank Zappa: Much of the creative work I find interesting and amusing has no basis in economic reality. Most decisions relevant to expenditures for what gets produced and distributed are made strictly on a bottom line basis. Nobody makes a move without talking to their accountant first. There will always be people who will take a chance, but their numbers are dwindling. Those who are crazy enough to take the chance on spending money to make some unusual object or event take place are an endangered species. The spirit of adventurousness at any level of American society has been pretty much legislated away. In the eighties, with a repressive Republican, yuppie-oriented administration installed and ready to perpetuate itself with Supreme Court appointments that will keep us in trouble for the next half century, the prognosis is not good for things which differ from the viewpoint of the conservative right.
Lyons / Friedman: Do you think anything can be done to reverse the trend?
Frank Zappa: Perhaps. I tend to view the whole thing as a conspiracy. It is no accident that the public schools in the United States are pure shit. It is no accident that masses of drugs are available and openly used at all levels of society. In a way, the real business of government is the business of controlling the labor force. Social pressure is placed on people to become a certain type of individual, and then rewards are heaped on people who conform to that stereotype. Take the pop music business, for example. Look at the stereotypes held up by the media as great accomplishment. You see guys who are making millions of dollars and selling millions of units. And because they are making and selling millions they are stamped with the seal of approval, and it is the millions which make their work quality. Yet anyone can look at what is being done and say, "Jesus, I can do that!" You celebrate mediocrity, you get mediocrity. People who could have achieved more won't, because they know that all they have to do is be "that" and they too can sell millions and make millions and have people love them because they're merely mediocre. Few people who do anything excellent are ever heard of. You know why? Because excellence, pure excellence, terrifies the fuck out of Americans because they have been bred to appreciate the success of the mediocre. People don't like to be reminded that lurking somewhere there are people who can do some shit that you can't do. They can think a way you can't think, they can dance a way you can't dance. They are excellent. You aren't excellent. Most Americans aren't excellent, they're only OK. And so to keep them happy as a labor force, you say, "OK, let's take this mediocre chump," and we say, "He is terrific!" All the other mediocre chumps say, "Yeah, that's right and that gives me hope, because one day as mediocre and chumpish as I am I can..." It's smart labor relations. An MBA decision. That is the orientation of most entertainment, politics, and religion. So considering how firmly entrenched all that is right now, you think it's going to turn around? Not without a genetic mutation it's not!
Lyons / Friedman: If you would focus on the message of pop music for a moment, what do you see as the issues of the 1980's that music can address today?
Frank Zappa: It can address anything it wants to, but it will only address those topics that will sell. Musicians will not address topics that are controversial if they want to have a hit. So music will continue to address those things that really matter to people who buy records: boy-girl relationships, boy-boy relationships, boy-car relationships, girl-car relationships, boy-girl-food relationships, perhaps. But safe. Every once in a while somebody will say "War is Hell" or "Save the Whales" or something bland. But if you talk about pop music as a medium for expressing social attitudes, the medium expresses the social attitude perfectly by avoiding contact with things that are really there. That is the telling point about the society that is consuming the product. If society wanted to hear information of a specific nature in songs, about controversial topics, they would buy them. But they don't. You are talking about a record- buying audience which is interested in their personal health and well-being, their ability to earn a living, their ability to stay young at all costs forever, and not much else.
Lyons / Friedman: How about the role of music in society outside the pop music industry? For example, Kent Nagano (conductor of the Berkeley symphony) said in a recent interview that "a composer has a job to do within a culture. Which is not to say a composer should write what the public already wants to hear, but rather that the public is employing the composer to lead them, to show them a direction." What do you think of that?
Frank Zappa: I don't think a composer has any function in society at all, especially in an industrial society, unless it is writing music scores, advertising jingles, or stuff that is consumed by industry. I respect Kent, however I think he takes a very optimistic and naive attitude toward what it takes to be a composer. If you walk down the street and ask anybody if a composer is of any use to any society, what kind of answer do you think you would get? I mean, nobody gives a shit. If you decide to become a composer, you seriously run the risk of becoming less than a human being. Who the fuck needs you? A songwriter is different. [in a facetious sing-song voice] You write a nice song, then you're important. Because with a song, now we have a car, now we have love, now we have a this ... but a composer? What the fuck do they do? All the good music's already been written by people with wigs and stuff on.
Lyons / Friedman: So the public doesn't need composers. What about composers? Do they need a public? For example [electronic music composer] Milton Babbit, in an essay titled "Who cares if you listen?" has advocated the virtual exclusion of the general public from modern music concerts. What is your opinion on that ?
Frank Zappa: That's unnecessary, they're already excluded; they don't go! Have you been to a modern music concert? Plenty of room, isn't there? Come on Milton, give yourself a break. I hope you're not going to spend money trying to exclude these people. What are you going to do, have it legislated in Congress, like those assholes who wanted to make it a law that you couldn't put anything backwards on a phonograph record?
Lyons / Friedman: So, given all this, what do you think art will be like 20 years from now?
Frank Zappa: Since I'm not in that business, it's hard for me to really care. [Author's note: Zappa does not think that his work is perceived as art.] I can lament its passing. I don't think anything that a reasonable person would describe as art will be around. Not here. I'm talking about art in terms of valued, beautiful stuff that
is done not because of your ego but just because it is beautiful, just because it is the right thing to do. We will be told what is good and it will be mediocre. There's always a possibility that an anomaly will appear - some weird little twisted thing will happen and there will be somebody who's doing it. But who's going to know?
In the dark ages there was art, but who knew?
Zappa on The Music Industry
Lyons / Friedman: How do unknown groups attract the attention of record companies?
Frank Zappa: Today record companies don't even listen to your tape. They look at you publicity photo. They look at your hair. They look at your zippers. How gay do you look? And if you've got the look then it really doesn't make a fucking bit of difference what's on the tape - they can always hire somebody to fix that. And they don't expect you to be around for 20 years. The business is not interested in developing artists. They want that fast buck because they realize that next week there's going to be another hairdo and another zipper. And they realize that the people are not listening, they're dancing, or they're driving, or something else. The business is more geared to expendability today. That's because merchandising is so tied to "visuals" now.
Lyons / Friedman: How is music selected to be heard on pop radio? Is it determined by the taste of the listener or does the public listen to whatever the industry feeds them?
Frank Zappa: A little of both. Radio is consumed like wallpaper is consumed. You don't concentrate on the radio, you turn it on while you're working, you turn it on while you're driving. It's not like the old days when families sat around and looked at it. So the stations are formatted to provide a certain texture and ambience
that will be consumed by people who view themselves in a certain way. Are you a yuppie? Well, you're going to listen to a certain texture because that reinforces the viewpoint you want to project to other people of who and what you are. It's the same thing as what you leave on your coffee table for people to discover when they come to your apartment. It's not a musical medium, it's an advertising medium. So if you have a nation of people who refuse to face reality about themselves, about the rest of the world, about anything, they want reinforcement for the fantasy that they're living in. And these consulting services that format the station know that. Market research will show that. So obviously you want to deliver to the public things that will reinforce that. A station loses money when somebody turns it off like the air. So as long as your station sounds like the kind of swill that the yuppie needs to consume, you got it.
Lyons / Friedman: Could you give us your view of the process whereby a record becomes a hit?
Zappa on His Music
Lyons / Friedman: As you compose, are you primarily guided by how you want the music to affect a listener's spiritual, emotional, intellectual or physical state, or by the musical structure - melody, harmony, and rhythm?
Frank Zappa: None of the above. It's more like, how did it turn out? Does it work? And if it works you don't even have to know why it works. It either works or it doesn't. Its like drawing a picture. Maybe there are too many fingers on one hand, and a foot is too short over there. Or you could apply it to the design of a building. Did you forget to put in a toilet, or are there enough windows on the second floor?
Lyons / Friedman: Those are examples of pragmatic considerations as opposed to aesthetic considerations.
Frank Zappa: I don't know how to explain it. I just do it. It's not based on any academic regulations. If you take a blank piece of paper and pencil and just start sketching, it doesn't necessarily have to be a house and a tree and a cow. It could just be some kind of scribble, but sometimes those scribbles work and they are the right thing for that blank piece of space and you can enjoy them Or you can say, "That's not a house, that's not a cow, that's not a tree, and so I don't like it; it's just a scribble." It depends on what your viewpoint is.
Lyons / Friedman: Is your view truly as subjective as you are painting it to be? So, if I look at an image and it appeals to me, then all I can say is that it works for me and I can't say any more about it?
Frank Zappa: What else do you have the right to say? If you go beyond that, you become a critic. Who needs those fuckers?
Lyons / Friedman: Other people might say that there's something universal, some sort of consensus on what works and what doesn't.
Frank Zappa: People are free to agree. If you want to join a committee to feel the warmth and reassurance of other people's opinions to reinforce your own, then go for it. I happen to not care for that. It's not something that I aspire to, nor do I want to live my life in accordance with that ideal. In fact, I despise it. But it's okay for other people. There's no reason why I should inflict my point of view on somebody who enjoys being part of a group consensus.
Lyons / Friedman: What are the relative merits of various human pursuits? For example, do you consider jogging or playing ice hockey to be of equal value to say creating art, on some cosmic scale?
Frank Zappa: No.
Lyons / Friedman: Why? What is the scale?
Frank Zappa: What is it that survives from ancient civilizations that characterizes that civilization? What do you find? Not their jogging! The music doesn't survive, but things that are related to art do. The beautiful things that the societies do is what survives. Let's look into the future. Let's look at the remnants of the American society . . .
Lyons / Friedman: Wait a second, ugly things survive too.
Frank Zappa: Yep. That's what will survive the American society!
Lyons / Friedman: You seem to admire the raw emotional energy of some music, yet you have little tolerance for emotional love songs.
Frank Zappa: It's quite a challenge to reach somebody emotionally without using words that have literal connections. To perform expressively on an instrument, I have respect for that. To get to the level of performance where you are no longer thinking about operating a piece of machinery, that is worthy of respect. Writing a song about why somebody left you, that's stupid. The performers and composers don't necessarily believe in what they're saying or what they are doing, but they know that if you write a song about love, it's got a 3,000 per cent better chance of going on the radio than if you write a song about celery. It's a buy and a sell. And so the value system builds up from that. What I think of as the emotional content of music is probably a lot different than what you think of. Since I write music, I know what the techniques are. If I wanted to write something that would make you weep, I could do it. There's ways to do it. It's a cheap shot.
Lyons / Friedman: Would you say it's sentimental?
Frank Zappa: It's not just sentimental. There are certain harmonic climates that you can build. There are certain notes of the scale that you can play within a harmonic climate to "wreak pathos," and it's very predictable. The average guy doesn't know how predictable or easy it is to do that stuff. For example, you've got the key; it's A minor right? And you're going to play a lot of Bs in the key of A minor and that's going to give you that little twinge. Well, that music played on an accordion is not the same as the exact same notes and the same melody and same rhythm played on six bagpipes. It's a different story. So the timbre is involved too. And the amplitude is involved. If that A-minor chord is very quiet and the Bs are just smoothly put in there, that's one attitude. If it's being played by a high school marching band and it's being jammed in your face, it's sad all right, but it's not that kind of sad! In different cultures there are also different norms for how certain sounds are perceived. That's why if you listen to Chinese classical music, everything sounds like it's being played on a kazoo and it's thin and weird, but to a Chinese person, it's lush. I don't know why a person would think that the tone quality of Chinese classical music was really a warm sensation. The Chinese are different though. They've got 7,000 years behind them. Maybe after 7,000 years we're going to think that stuff sounds pretty good too.
Zappa on Zappa
Lyons / Friedman: What do you see as your greatest accomplishment and your greatest failure?
Frank Zappa: I would say my entire life has been one massive failure. Because I don't have the tools or wherewithal to accomplish what I want to accomplish. If you have an idea, and you want that idea to be done a certain way and you can't do it, what do you have? You have failure. I live with failure every day because I can't do the things that I really want to do. I can do some other stuff. I can do whatever my budget will allow me to do. Unfortunately, I have these ideas that are just too
fucking expensive. In realistic terms you're looking at a genuine daily failure syndrome. I have no fantasies about what the odds are that I'll be able to do what I want to do. It's not going to happen. Once you realize what your limitations are and realize that even if you "achieve" something it doesn't make a fucking bit of difference anyway, then you can be "okay." I enjoy sitting down here [in the home studio] all by myself typing on the Synclavier. I can do twelve hours and love it. And I know that ultimately it doesn't mean a fucking thing that I did it. It's useless. That's okay, it makes me feel good.
Lyons / Friedman: It seems that for most people that kind of isolation would lead to loneliness.
Frank Zappa: Try to imagine what the opposite of loneliness is. Think of it. Everyone in the world loves you? What is that? Realize you are in isolation. Live it! Enjoy it! Just be glad that there aren't a bunch of people who want to use up your time. Because along with all the love and admiration that's going to come from the people that would keep you from being lonely, there is the emotional freight you have to bear from people who are wasting your time, and you can't get that back. So when you're lonely and all by yourself, guess what you have? You have all your own time. That's a pretty good fucking deal. Something you couldn't buy any place else. And every time you're out being sociable and having other people be "nice" to you so you don't feel "lonely," they are wasting your time. What do you get for it? Because after they're done being nice to you they want something from you. And they've already taken your time! Loneliness, once you've come to deal with it so it is not an uncomfortable sensation, so it doesn't feel like drowning or something, is not a bad deal. It's a good deal. It's the next best thing to solitude. I'm not talking solitary confinement. Solitude. If you're sensitive to loneliness, you're going to be in trouble, because then the loneliness turns into something really painful, a horrible depression and then you die. One way or another, you just die. So who needs that shit?
Copyright 1986 by Batya Friedman and Steve Lyons Published in various forms in The Progressive (November 1986), Option Magazine (Jan/Feb and Mar/Apr 1987) and Wire Magazine (Dec/Jan 1987 issue). The text here is primarily as it appeared in The Progressive. This interview took place in late 1985 in his home studio, from 11 o'clock at night until sunrise the next morning. Zappa was a disarmingly thoughtful, lucid, witty individual, and rather warm in his own way.
No comments:
Post a Comment