FRANK ZAPPA

Waka/Wazoo UMC

BY TURNS FEROCIOUS, WITTY, EXPLORATORY AND INTENSELY CREATIVE.

Five-disc set documenting Zappa’s jazz-rock experiments.

It’s astonishing to think that just four months after being pushed from the stage of London’s Rainbow theatre in December 1971 and left with head injuries, a broken rib, a fractured leg and a paralysed arm, a wheelchair-bound Frank Zappa was back in the studio having already composed more than two albums’ worth of material. The latest deep dive into the archives explores Waka/Jawaka and The Grand Wazoo, both released in 1972, a period sometimes referred to as ‘big band Frank’ due to the extended brass arrangements showcased on both records.

Leaning into the jazz-rock ethos present on Hot Rats, these records are by turns ferocious, witty, exploratory, turbulent, charming and above all, intensely creative. That they have been somewhat overlooked borders on the criminal, a sad fact that will hopefully, be redressed by this box set. With studio sessions occupying three discs and a fourth detailing the subsequent group out on tour, it is completed with brandnew Dolby Atmos and 5.1 mixes, along with hi-res stereo remasters on Blu-ray – though frustratingly, this item wasn’t available at the time of writing.

While there are revealing alternate mixes and outtakes of the discursive masterpieces Big Swifty and Waka/Jawaka, it’s the expansive charts of The Grand Wazoo that are the primary focus of this release. The blistering rawness of Minimal Art (Eat That Question Version 1 Take 2) actually outstrips the finished version with full-blooded soloing from Sal Marquez and George Duke’s pugilistic keyboard. An alternate take of the second version of the song with a different Duke intro both conveys and confirms the rousing energies of the session, though quite why Marquez’s fiery trumpet here was left off the final album is baffling.

A 10-minute outtake of Blessed Relief, surely one of Zappa’s most tenderhearted compositions, comes with an inquisitive, flowing guitar solo and more effortless vamping from Duke, for whom Zappa produced several demos intended for his solo career in the midst of these sessions. Of the seven numbers included here, Psychosomatic Dung is outstanding. Duke’s Uncle Remus, at this point without the lyrics Zappa would eventually write for 1974’s Apostrophe (’), underlines their symbiotic relationship.

The blunt force of economics would curtail the gloriously inventive experimentation of this part of his career. As a now-recovered Zappa shifted gears towards the more lucrative rewards of Over-Nite Sensation, Waka/Wazoo is a stirring reminder of what an artist jolted by personal setback but determined to thrive in the face of adversity can achieve.