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The Acid Feed-Back Show
1 October 1981
Paramount Theater
Portland, Oregon
© 1998 by Fast Frank
Sheesh, I tell ya! This show brings back a virtual plethora of wild and hairy memories...a torrent of terrific and tasty tid-bits, pouring out and coating the cranium like a can of Hershy's Chocolate Syrup (noticed how I misspelled "Hershey's" so the corporate muckity-mucks can't send their neanderthal thug-like goons out to kick in my door in the middle of the night and drag me out of bed and...um...gee, the phrase "Hershey Highway" comes to mind, but I can't seem to be able to place it this text in such a way as to be entertaining enough that you would want to finish reading this thing...or something..)
When my then-girlfriend, later-wife, much-later ex-wife- but-still-good-friend Linda first knew me, I would enthrall her with Tales of Mighty Frank (okay...could be a story about a brave Herculean hot dog...could be an exciting new Phydeaux food made from the finest beef and/or pork food by- products...could even be about yours truly, or even what Jay has in the box that he's bringing down the aisle...) so she pretty much knew all about the guy. And, as an added bonus...she really got off on the music, big time!
So when we found out that KGON radio and Double Tee Productions (there's one for you old Portland nostalgia buffers!) were bringing Mr. Zappa and Co. back to the city that really loves 'em, it was pure Nur-vah-nah!
Linda and I had one of those love-you-forever-REO- Spudwagon-Little-River-Band relationships that make my teeth hurt just thinking about it, and taking her to see the Idol of My Youth live and in the flesh made this one of the most perfect things in my life.
In preparation for the evening, I had brought with me an unknown quantity of small, orange, barrel-shaped chemical amusement devices which I cleverly stashed in an empty 35mm film canister (real original, huh folks?)
Well, you can certainly imagine my chagrin when I noticed the friskers checkin' out everyone for nuclear weapons and cleverly hidden multi-track recording studios. In a burst of pure blinding genius, I gave Linda several hits of our, er, oh hell, you guys know what I'm talkin' about, right? Anyway, like I said, in a flash of pure dumb genius, and a little inspiration from Cheech & Chong, I proceeded to ingest the remaining orange, barrel-shaped tid-bits, (the quantity of which remains a mystery to this very day..) and stuffed the empty film canister down the front of my pants.
Turned out that my frisker happened to be a member of the opposite camp. I could feel little invisible fingers crawling up the back of my neck, and this uncontrollable desire to burst out in an hysterical guffaw. The female frisker peered into my eyeballs and said "whaddya got there, sir?" referring to the way too obvious bulge in the front of my pants.
Trying my darndest to be suave and de-bone-air, I felt this goofy smirk creeping across my face as I replied, "why do you ask?" I extracted the offending object from my pants, and a gleam of evil appeared in the friskers now extremely beady eyeballs. "Would you open the 35mm film canister you had down the front of your pants, sir?" she asked in a very clear, impressive Margaret-Hamilton-as-the-wicked-witch type voice. I did, and she looked very let down indeed as she peered into the (fortunately for me) empty film canister.
By the time FZ and Company launched into the show, I was hanging on to my seat for dear life. This band arguably ties for first place along with the "Roxy" line up, IMHO. It was the first time I'd seen Steve Vai play, and I was agog. He and FZ "duelled it out" during several numbers, and following "Stevie's Spanking" I thought my eyelids had been blown off. The band was so tight it was unreal...Ray White, Bobby Martin, Scott Thunesandwich, Tommy Mars, and although I've read reviews to the contrary, I could've sworn Chad Wackerman played this show...
I remember Tommy Mars launching into "Alien Orifice" and thinking that the music was somehow coming up through the floor. That was interesting, to say the least...
Steve Vai was a blast to watch. He was nattily attired in those ridiculous teeny-tiny running shorts he used to wear, and his shoulder length hair was parted down the center, reminding me of the days when The Mothers were the scraggly- looking hairy bunch that we all know and love. He would throw in little bits of drama with whatever tune they happened to be playing; on "Jumbo Go Away" he did the little Jumbo parts in a whiny Jumbo-like voice. On "We're Turning Again" he mimed Keith Moon's TV doing a free-fall, along with other assorted bits of rock star frivolity.
They played a version of "Broken Hearts Are For Assholes" that was a bit different. Lacking the raucous Terry Ted's "you know what you are?", they instead did a whiny little robot kind of drone which I thought was hilarious...it gave that part of the song a whole different meaning. Instead of being pissed off and enraged, it was pissy and snivelly, like it would be after years of doing it. And the title part of the song was done in a schmaltzy cocktail lounge manner, the intensity of the thing being replaced with what was nearly a spoof of itself.
Bobby Martin nearly shook the ceiling down when he sang. That dude's got an amazing voice. They must have played "Teen-age Prostitute", cuz that's what really sticks in my mind as being an ear drum peeler.
And Frank...stationed firmly in place in his orange (could have been red, I'm color blind, y'know) jumpsuit and tenny-whoppers, a billowing cigarette riding comfortably tucked near the tuning keys of his guitar, doing that little head-jerk thingie as he effortlessly played amazingnesses (my own word, folks. Don't look for it in your Funk & Wagnalls.)
And, of course, Mr. Smothers was there with his trusty nunchucks, whipping them out on occasion to remind the crowd that this guy was his boss.
The show ended way too soon (of course it could have gone on for hours, and it still would have ended too soon!), and Linda lovingly peeled me from my seat, checked the floor for any salvagable brain cells, and guided me up the aisle. I scored a cool "Shut Up 'N Play Your Guitar" baseball shirt and matching button, and babbled non-stop all the way home.
My own personal opinions and bias aside (yeah, right Frank), this was an amazing show with an incredibly talented group of musicians. FZ would occasionally put down his instrument, light up a smoke, and watch the performance himself. Now, I have read a few reviews which saw this as an act of aloofness or boredom, and I sincerely believe these observations are waaay off. I think with the caliber of musicians he had on this tour, including a guitarist who seemingly could play the notes between the notes, it was probably a real pleasure for FZ to be able to stand back, watch, and like the rest of us, go "wow!"
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