September 3 , 2003 (Vol. 37, Iss. 49) noise. Editors: Kimberly Chun & J.H. Tompkins Art director: Lori Spears Noise logo designer: J. Fish Music accounts executive: Chris Owen

By Will York

THERE'S A LOT of romance surrounding the creative act, but the boring truth is that coming up with great art is usually a lot of work. Divine inspiration and wild spontaneity are more in line with the rock 'n' roll ethos than mundane things like craft and discipline are, though, and to that end, the rock press has always had a soft spot for characters who seem to get their ideas from another plane of existence – whether they're mentally ill (Daniel Johnston, Roky Erickson), they take tons of drugs (too many to list), or they're just plain weird.

Don Van Vliet, a.k.a. Captain Beefheart, is one of these mythical characters, and the story behind his 1969 album, Trout Mask Replica, is one of rock's grand legends. Beefheart supposedly wrote the entire double LP by himself in an eight-hour stretch at the piano and subsequently taught it to the Magic Band, a group of untrained musicians who somehow latched onto and perfected a bunch of songs that continue to baffle most musicians today.

"I felt completely betrayed," Magic Band drummer John French told me in a recent phone interview, talking about the first time he noticed Beefheart propagating that version of history in a 1969 issue of Rolling Stone. French, according to less sensationalized accounts, is the band member most responsible for transcribing and editing the raw ideas Beefheart would sing or plunk out at the piano. Along with other members of the band, French was also in charge of hammering those ideas into actual song form.

The group spent about eight months rehearsing, living in a house with Beefheart in what French now calmly describes as a "cult situation," and then went into the studio and laid down the instrumental tracks for the album in an unbelievable four hours. Beefheart, who still didn't have the songs down at this point, overdubbed his parts later. (You can read more about this whole process in the liner notes to the Grow Fins, Vol. 2: Trout Mask House Sessions box set released by Xeric a few years ago.)

Fresh Meate

Considering what the original Magic Band went through in bringing this music to life, it's disconcerting to hear the careless, laissez-faire contributions of so many of the artists on the recently released Neon Meate Dream of a Octafish: A Tribute to Captain Beefheart and His Magic Band (Animal World). There are 20 songs, and a good fourth of them are variations on the "crazy bluesman and/or poet howling over the din" theme – as if that's all there is to this music. It's no huge surprise to hear that kind of thing from Thurston Moore, whose side-side-side project Dapper phones in an awful seven-minute version of "Beatle Bones 'n Smokin' Stones." (When will folks wise up and quit inviting Sonic Youth members to appear on their tribute albums?) But there are other groups with a little more (or less?) to prove, like 25 Suaves, who should know better, especially after years of having their own music derided as "just a bunch of noise."

The best moments, with one exception, come when the artists actually tackle the music rather than trying to impress us with their crummy avant-garde concepts. Trumans Water, the Minutemen's Mike Watt, and the Flying Luttenbachers' Weasel Walter all provide respectable versions of difficult songs ("Hair Pie: Bake 2," "Dirty Blue Gene," and "Flash Gordon's Ape," respectively). Racebannon turn "Electricity" into a hardcore-noise meltdown, and Azalia Snail does a nice, mellow – and, in a pleasant change of pace, feminine – take on "Abba Zabba." The only radical remake that comes off is the a cappella throat-singing version of "Wild Life" by Arrington de Dionyso of Old Time Relijun, which kind of makes sense because that band name is from a Beefheart song.

Back to the band

Far more consistent is the recent, French-led Magic Band reunion release, Back to the Front (ATP), which is way better than you'd ever expect, coming from a bunch of 40- and 50-plus rockers. And it's not even a true reunion because the lineup – French, Trout Mask-period bassist Mark Boston, and later-era guitarists Denny Walley and Gary Lucas – hadn't played together before.

The big surprise is the vocals, done by French in a dead-on Beefheart impersonation that must be heard to be believed. The reaction I've gotten when I've played it for my friends has been either "Wow, that's amazing – it sounds exactly like Beefheart" or "What's the point? It sounds exactly like Beefheart."

True, they don't pull any radical reinterpretations, but at this stage, my feeling is that if it sounds good, feels good, and is fun to listen to, then there doesn't need to be any more of a point than that. Besides, Trout Mask hasn't endured because of novelty. Novelty fades. It's endured because it has great songs, which sprang from one man's extraordinary imagination but were realized by a band of dedicated, patient, and very committed musicians.

Sure, it would be great to have a reissue of Lick My Decals Off, Baby or an official release of the original Bat Chain Puller album, which is still tied up in post-legal-case limbo in the Zappa family's vaults. But until then, Back to the Front is pretty good, too. Let's hope the new Magic Band's live show, which is scheduled to happen Nov. 8 through 9 at All Tomorrow's Parties in Long Beach, makes it up here sometime soon.