Dweezil Zappa
20th February 2018
Bruce Mason Centre, Auckland, New Zealand.
Review by Marius Nel. Photography by Connor Crawford.
This is the thing with tribute bands: they might not be the real thing, but sometimes they’re better. The original artist had the concept, but the protégé has taken it and shaped and polished it a bit. After an evening spent in the musical company of Frank Zappa’s eldest, I’m fairly certain that this is the case.First, let’s look at this young ‘un’s pedigree: the son of the mad genius of rock himself, Frank Zappa, who took his passion for contemporary classical music by composers like Varese and Stravinsky to the rock stage, put it in the blender and gave it the zap spin – what else could Dweezil be but a guitarist, musician and composer? Then to be taught by FZ’s guitarist Steve Vai, the obsessive guitar disciple, who fed the young Dweezil (named after one of his mother’s toes) a strict diet of scales and arpeggios. And then when he was allowed to come out and play, it was with none other than the madcap Edward van Halen, who put in an appearance on Dweezil’s first recording at the tender age of 12 or 13. Listening to Dweezil’s later recording, “Let’s talk about it” with its exquisite guitar work which speaks of Vai and Van Halen with a good dose of “Chip-off-the-old-block-itis”, makes one wonder why he bothered to become the custodian of his father’s work, rather than blaze his own rock guitar trail. But here we are: some 51 years after the release of pa Frank’s “Freak Out” debut album, Dweezil is touring New Zealand and Australia showcasing strictly the FZ canon.
A footnote here about the title of the tour (‘Dweezil Zappa plays whatever the f@%k he wants’): it was supposed to be “Zappa plays Zappa” but after sister Diva and brother Ahmet denied him the right to use the family name, he chose this title in exasperation. In keeping with Dad’s choice of language, I’d say – good call!
The show opened with a firm favourite, “Zombie Woof” off the Overnite sensation album. The band exploded onto the stage with an energy and a tightness that was breath-taking from the start. I was intrigued by the way Cian Coey, the pint-sized belter of the Big Voice, together with multi-instrumentalist Scheila Gonzales, took falsetto male vocal parts sung originally by Roy Estrada and other male vocalists in Frank’s band, and gave them a powerful female makeover which put a refreshing spin on old favourites like “Zombie Woof” and “Lemme take you to the beach”.
After a jump back to a song or two from Freak out and then to Just another bad from LA with a kiwi-fied version of “Call any vegetable”, our time machine zapped back to “Who needs the Peace Corps” before the band got down to some serious business with “Inca Roads”. This is a song that really exemplifies the Zappa quirkiness with tight passages and insane syncopation with spaces for all the instrumentalists to strut their stuff. And strut they did: Dweezil has taken his father’s solos, polished them lovingly and then put them under a blowtorch. Technically I think he is a more precise player than Frank was, with those funny little quick glissandos executed with precision, and he has added techniques that he learned at the knee of Edward Van, like double tapping. An appreciative audience clapped and wowed in all the right places.
Keyboardist Chris Newton did faultless impressions of the parts that Frank Z had written for Ruth Underwood, his marimba/vibes wizard. Then he topped this with some dazzling synth and electric piano parts fully worthy of the great George Duke who sweated through these for his insane composer.
Two musicians who stood out this evening, however, were saxophonist/multi-instrumentalist Scheila Gonzales and drummer Ryan Brown. Gonzales, when she wasn’t blowing up a storm on the horns and, on “Inca Roads”, the flute, provided the keyboard springboard for Newton to dazzle and bewitch. Where she had the audience in the palm of her hand was during her tenor sax solo on “The Purple Lagoon” – an extremely powerful delivery that left us breathless on her part. It is great to see female performers of her ilk (her Australian counterpart on the trumpet being another) coming into their own and showing that they have the power to deliver as well as, or even better than, any Napoleon Murphy Brock or Tom Fowler.
Mikki proved herself a formidable replacement for Ray White, the assistant “Illinois enema bandit”, growling her way through this tale of colonic irrigation and armed robbery and a classic blues guitar solo.
Then, after the interval, there was Ryan Brown and “The Black Page” drum solo. Now up until this point this veteran of many US bands of which he is currently member, had not cracked a smile all evening. Just too bloody busy, mate. He had huge boots to fill: Frank worked with the best drummers in the business – Terry Bozzio, Chad Wackerman and Vinnie Colaiuta have set the bar high in their profession. I think the great FZ would have had no qualms, however, about hiring Mr Brown: his fills are meticulously executed and his ability to whip up the heat to fever pitch onstage and bring it down again for the other instrumentalists on songs like “Inca Roads” and the dynamic range of the Joe’s Garage instrumental is phenomenal.
“The Black Page” is a drum solo worked out beat for beat, stroke for stroke by Frank Zappa and each bit was executed precisely by Brown. This is no mean feat: the title derives from the fact that there are so many notes on the manuscript. Another interesting aside here: Frank Zappa wrote all his music meticulously by hand and all his musicians were expected to sight-read. The drum solo morphed into the “easy teenage New York version” with all the musicians playing the drum solo as a melody with a vamp.
One criticism of the evening: I could see bassist Kurt Morgan playing heart and soul out, but the balls of his playing was lost in the mix. I couldn’t feel the bass much, just heard it now and again in quieter passages.
From The Roxy and Elsewhere came “Cheepnis” – the essential Frank Zappa song with all the ingredients: insane marimba passages and a monster called Thrunobulax, a gigantic poodle who had to be taken out by napalm and nuclear force. Beautifully executed was the “Son of Orange County”, originally written about Richard Nixon but equally applicable to the current occupant of the Oval Office. As applicable, too, was “More trouble every day” with its lovely little Zappa-ism of inserting “Ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin’ alive” into the chorus: I think Dad would approve!
This was the last song of the evening, but the audience was having none of it: we were on our feet and the band was hardly off the stage when the rhythmic clapping surged through the Bruce mason Centre and everybody took up the chant: “Dwee-zil! Dwee-zil!”
The encore was generous: three songs off the OSFA album, starting with the instrumental version of “Sofa” (I guess not that many singers could sing the German lyrics), morphing into “Pyjama People” and “Read ‘em and weep”.
Any misgivings I may have had before the show were totally blown away by the slick musicianship of the young Zappa and the power of the band behind him. It might not be the real thing, but as with all tribute acts, it was a well-polished representation of the music for the sake of the music and not the name. I do wish his two younger siblings would see it that way. Well done, Dweezil Zappa, you are a worthy custodian of your father’s work. But please, we would also like to hear more of yours?
Were you there at the Bruce Mason Centre for this exciting rock gig? Or have you seen Dweezil Zappa perform live somewhere else before? Tell us about it in the comments below!
Edited 24/02/18 – corrected & changed the names in the infamous Zappa family feud, plus vocalist name.
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