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For your eddie fication
Backstage at UCLA's Pauley Pavilion after The Mothers of Invention with Zubin Mehta and the LA Philharmonic's concert.....
an excert from Howie's book
Mark and I went backstage to give our kudos to Don Preston, Motorhead Sherwood, Buzz and Bunk Gardner, and the rest of the motliest band that was ever assembled. And there was the maestro himself, leaning against the wall, cigarette dangling from his mouth and his ever-present thermos cup of coffee in hand, speaking volumes of truths to a group of drooling reporters. We walked over to shake the man's hand and congratulate him on a perfect show.
"So I hear the Turtles broke up, what are you boys going to do now?" We confessed we didn't have a clue, but I did like being referred to as a "boy". It felt paternal somehow. "listen," he continued, "I'm putting together a new Mothers of Invention-none of the original guys. We're going to go to Europe, play some festivals, maybe some TV....What do ya think?"
We thought yes.
I'm having a family barbecue this Sunday. Why don't you guys come on over. Bring your wives. Oh, yeah, and your saxophones, you do still play saxophone, don't you?" Saxophone? What the hell did Frank want us to bring our saxes for? He had the incredible Ian Underwood in his band and my old Selmer hadn't seen a new reed in five years. Mark and I traded a look not unlike the one that passed between us at the draft board. Still, maybe Frank just wanted us to honk along with an old-school tune-that we could do.
Comes Sunday and the big pool party at Frank and his wife Gail's, purple house on Woodrow Wilson Drive, not far from my Laurel Canyon home. Wives in bathing suits, getting the third degree, screaming naked children running around the chlorined lagoon, the all-American smell of burgers and hot dogs:suburbia at its least corrupted. We ate, we drank, we schmoozed. Then Zappa motioned the two of us downstairs to his legendary studio to hear what we could do. I had my old tenor. Mark had his old alto.
He placed sheet music before us on stands and counted us off. We did what we could. Then he put on a tape of a classic MOI song for us to blorp along with. We did what we could. And then he turned off the machine and told us to put our instruments away. My heart sank, I guess, deep down, I had somehow counted on this all-new life. "Yeah, you guys won't be needing those, We've got two weeks of rehearsal before we leave for England. Got passports?" Oh, hell, yes. Frank wanted singers. The Turtles had been broken up for two weeks and we had a great new gig.
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Thanks for the music Frank.
Well I'm about to get sick from watching my TV
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