Great Googly Moogly...

A Frank Zappa story.
I was off. Decided after spending two hours at Tower Records on Sunset to drop by Barney’s. Cool, except I work there and am not allowed to drink there. I walk in expecting the evil eye and the get the fuck out from the Korean Reich Mistress Manager and lo and behold she has suddenly gotten the right meds and she asks me what I am doing and was I stopping in for a drink??!
I saunter warily into the bar. Order a pint and lean on the bar rail. The guys behind the stick are dumbfounded. I somehow got the pass. They will try now that the door seems open and be thwarted most stealthily. They will wonder aloud countless times.
Trevor walks in the swinging doors and we have a chat.
“Nothing, what are you doing?”
“Going to see Zappa.”
“Huh? Zappa's playing here??”
“No, I’m going to the REHEARSAL.”
“What?!!”
“Yeah, man. My dad got me hooked up.” (Daddy recorded with Frank)
“Wanna go?”
I am now thinking I have been monstrously hit by one of the glacial LA buses and am in some sort of pre-heaven.
“Yeah, man. I got nothing going on. When?”
“Now man, now!”
I am definitely dead.
We swill pints and jump in a cab to Hollywood. The tour buses and trucks are parked end to end. The sound studio parking lot is nearly empty. It is a cool LA mid “winter” night.
I walk through the door and there is Frank, center stage. Alone. Tweaking his SG and his floor pedals. I am dumbstruck. He is playing the same few notes over and over again. The occasional chord. And it is FRANK. It sounds like FRANK. It could only be FRANK.
I wander closer, check out the gear. NOT TOO CLOSE! I could startle him!!
The room is sparsely populated. I can go where I want to go.
It sinks in that I am in a full final rehearsal.
FZ finishes his tweaking and leaves the stage. People are milling around. There are about 40 people in the room. Gail and young Diva are wandering, talking, disappearing and reappearing.
Trevor comes back over to me with a grin from ear to ear. “Wow, eh?”
All I can think to say is “I owe you one, man.”
The band walks out to the stage to silence. We are, after all, in a SERIOUS rehearsal.
I walk to the back of the small soundstage and sit on a roadcase. They launch into an impeccable set. Keyboard heavy lineup. Wackerman and Thunes under it all. The incomparable Ike Willis. The Fowlers! Dastardly. Outrageous. Swinging. Acrobatic. FUN! They are having FUN!
Gail and Diva, sit “Indian style” on the floor 12 feet from the stage.
After 90 impeccable minutes, FZ announces that they will, by special request, play a song requested by his kid. “Stairway To Heaven”. Tempo fluctuations, death spiral arpeggiates, true rendition segments. The GUITAR SOLO! Horn section doubled. Hellish.
I walk away past the fuming warm buses and make my way to Boardner’s. I drink and drink. I get home and lay in a sonic stupor. Sofa. Inca Roads. Jesus Thinks You’re a Jerk, Black Page.
Died and gone to heaven.
1988 The Last Tour

Thanks Trevor Feldman, wherever you is.

FZ / LAGUNITAS FEB 13th - 7 PM - FZDJ - Come hear and drink in the Excentrifugal Forz
Cappucino Stout 2006 / Freak Out! 2006 / Lumpy Gravy
Kill Ugly Radio / Censored / IPA
Imperial Red / Czech Pilsner
Bottles-Brown Shugga / Hairy Eyeball
The Gate