Zappanale 2023 report! (reinvented)

Frank Zappa: and it is like discovering any artist, every Zappanale enthusiast, every Zappafan, has their own story. Some stumbled upon his genius thanks to an older sibling, others through a neighbour, and some via a particularly knowledgeable schoolmate, possibly in chemistry and music. I discovered him through the “America del Rock” magazine collection, in 1995. Many, including myself, were quickly captivated by this obsession, turning FZ’s music into a cornerstone of our lives, more than just a mere soundtrack. So, like Muslims with Mecca, I decided to travel to the remote northeastern top end of Germany (where there’s basically nothing, and I see this as a feature) to witness and, in a way, participate in Zappanale. A festival dedicated to Frank Zappa and his devoted real followers, those freaks both inside and out, scattered across the globe. This year marked the thirty-second edition of Zappanale, self-proclaimed as the world’s largest Zappa festival. But, as we’ll see, it’s not all about Zappa. The festival kicks off with freely open gates for all the most curious souls in the area, who are treated to the Berlin Police Orchestra (covering both Zappa and, surprisingly, the Macarena), the Paul Green Rock Academy (a bunch of talented teenagers, especially in their intentions — more on that later), and a couple of Zappa cover bands that, as is often the case with Zappa, dive into relatively easy blues-rock and remarkable imitation. They’re enjoyable if you have plenty of beer to drink, and want to zappa-party, let’s say. But the real sensation of the first day is what they call “Zappa Town,” the festival’s venue. Dozens of artistic works, mostly large banners and posters with Frank’s image in all its glory, often featuring noteworthy creations. Around the main stage, you’ll find posters from the past thirty-one editions, a simple yet significant continuum-based idea. The best entertainment on the introductory day, especially for a newcomer like me, is the discovery, observation, and getting to know dozens of Zappa music fans and the culture that orbits around it and within them. Many Germans and a mix of Americans, Brits, Spaniards, and a few Italians. Lots, maybe too many, moustaches and goatees, but also lots of smiles, a willingness to chat, bewildered yet content faces, veteran characters, and a few newcomers. When I see all this, I think that ultimately it’s impossible to be alone in the world; you just have to look well and join those who are like you, even if they live in New Zealand. That’s why I believe Zappanale is the festival of Zappa aficionados more than the artist himself, and that’s fine by me. It’s still a festival of “out-of-the norm” music, and it would be great if more people knew that it’s not just about cover bands, in fact. By the way, Jon Anderson and Billy Cobham will also be performing. The battle of the T-shirts is interesting. Everyone seems to sport the rarest one; in fact, I didn’t see a single t-shirt with Frank sitting on the toilet — which is probably the most famous overall out there, but that would be too obvious here. Instead, I noticed some who made their own t-shirts or jackets at home, complete with adhesive paper images, which resulted in quite a mess after a wash. Then there were those who went for an alternative approach, wearing Pink Floyd, Grateful Dead, or even Nirvana ones. If I had known, I would have brought a Shakira t-shirt — it would have made everyone jealous, and me sexier as ever. Many older folks (proud to suggest they saw Frank in the flesh) who have made their lives and held onto FZ’s music as a kind of salvation, something to flaunt with themselves and a select few. It’s a topsy-turvy world where you have to justify why you’re not. Yet, it’s accepted, even encouraged, in its own way. Fascinating, a form of freedom of expression in this “Zappa Town” where you see very few smartphones around, and you realise that here people are truly present, not just appearing.

The festival lasted four days, with music starting late morning and always ending late at night.

Kuhn Fu

The first clear example of how Zappanale is not just about Zappa. Kuhn Fu (guitar, bass, drums, baritone sax, soprano sax, and bass clarinet, plus vague and overwhelming vocals) deliver a show full of riffs and enthusiasm. Minor keys and speed, rides that make Iron Maiden sound like Simon & Garfunkel in comparison; you could call it punk-jazz, but I also see a lot of good old rock ’n’ roll in it. They put on two performances (one in the morning and one well past midnight), and when I chat with them, I find extremely calm and sociable people who immediately shed the Mephistophelean personas they seem to don on stage. It’s interesting how they’re a band that doesn’t have a real base, except Berlin as headquarters for administrative purposes. They come from all over the world and live in different cities. They simply want to play more often, unburdened by the subtle ostracism that might befall bands that are too eclectic yet so pleasing to any reasonable ear. You don’t need to know who John Coltrane is to enjoy their show. At most, you’ll need earplugs to protect your eardrums while leader Michael Kuhn can’t stay still, carried away by his own music. Meanwhile, double solos by Koen Boeijinga (on both soprano and alto sax… simultaneously) and exchanges of sonic bombardments between Sofia Salvo on baritone sax and Ziv Taubenfel on bass clarinet punctuate the musical celebration. Rating: 8/10 — sincere and powerful.

Napoleon Murphy Brock & Hamburg Jazz Trio

Why a “Zappa legend” like Napoleon Murphy Brock (vocalist on some of FZ’s most celebrated rock albums in the mid-70s) is on the bill for the second day and in the late afternoon? It seems it was a last-minute decision. In any case, Napoleon, now approaching eighty, dances, sings, and plays as if time had never passed, and as usual, he does it with enthusiasm and genuine affection for those who appreciate him and care about him. The show is a well-balanced mix of delicate Zappa moments (starting with the light and dreamy “Blessed Relief”) and traditional American songs. The charismatic frontman (who was chosen by Frank almost without a real audition) is accompanied by the Hamburg(er) Jazz Trio, a balanced yet sparkling bass/piano/drums trio that, when Napoleon needs a break, rightfully steals the spotlight. There’s so much class from the great commander and his precious crew. Rating: 7/10.

Jon Anderson

Also on stage, the Paul Green Rock Academy for the highlight of the third day of Zappanale: Jon Anderson, former lead singer of Yes and a pillar of 70s British progressive rock. The singer, who seems to be doing just fine (with a full head of hair and a spry demeanour), lets himself be engulfed by the spirited youngsters of the Academy. The result is a dense and exciting show, never slow or cloying, a constant risk with progressive rock. They perform dozens of songs from Yes’s golden era, and listening to them played live with almost crystalline perfection added a quality experience to this Zappanale: prog ballads, acoustic guitars, two Rickenbacker basses as it should be, and plenty of catchy and pleasant melodies. As the evening descended, the main stage closed with true class for Saturday. Rating: 7.5/10.

Bobby Rausch

The bass clarinet pumps air and notes, resembling a steam locomotive and at times almost a wild didgeridoo emitting fiery screams. To his left, a minimal and semi-electronic drum kit, with plenty of bass and snare work. Finally, on the opposite side, a large yet delicate baritone saxophone: he takes care of the melodies, no frills but no excess, just the right amount for the entire concert. These are the Berliners Bobby Rausch (Lutz Streun in work overalls, Jurgen Meyer in a Texan rockstar outfit, Oleg Hollmann — kind and elegant), and I meet them in the evening before their set, which begins well past midnight. But, considering we’re in the middle of nowhere in the German countryside… who’s going to complain? I spare myself the thought of why “Bobby Rausch,” as no one in the band is named Bobby: there’s no explanation, and I accept it, I almost sensed that. We talk about how Berlin seems to be the perfect home for their genre, this jazz mixed with club rhythms, Berlin-style. There’s a lot of dancing during their show, and they don’t even encourage it that much; they focus on playing. The dancing and the urge to move, despite being at the end of a day of over twelve hours of music, spontaneously emerge under the soft sonic bombardment. They confess that they would like to play in Italy again and, of course, set foot in Anglo-Saxon territory. I think it’s just a matter of the right opportunity; bands like Bobby Rausch have talent, character, and taste. Rating: 8/10.

Banned from Utopia

In the midst of a deluge of tribute bands in various forms, Sunday evening finally presents the main attraction for the horde of Zappafans in the former East Germany countryside. Except for the two excellent guitarists, four original members from one of the formations led by the Maestro from Baltimore make up Banned From Utopia. What I immediately did to enjoy their performance with the right mindset was to think that those four (Scott Thunes, Ray White, Chad Wackerman, Robert Martin)… they were chosen by Uncle Frank himself to play his music. Therefore, they both have a sort of right and the ability to think as Zappa would have wanted the performance to be. The show is rich in moments of pure technique and a Zappa-esque approach, with high volumes, mountains of intertwining melodies, and frenetic rhythms from Wackerman’s drums. The two guitarists, the Hendrix-inspired Robbie Mangano and the modern acid Jamie Kime, spare no effort, while Thunes on bass not only roams the stage incessantly (until his wireless device stops working) but also plays the neck of his bass in a way that, as a bassist, I would describe as delightful: always rhythmically present, he never misses an opportunity to double the lines of other instruments with extreme naturalness. We forgive him for his well-known “attitude” in the face of such mastery. It’s a real pleasure to listen to him and, after all, he and Wackerman keep the show going since time takes its toll on everyone, and Ray White and Bobby Martin do more of a heartfelt job than vocal technique. Robert Martin is the voice that many know for Zappa’s cover of “Stairway To Heaven,” from the 1988 tour. Ray White is the lead voice in “Doreen” (from “You are what you is,” 1981), and it’s with this wonderful song that they begin their evening set. It’s a matter of feelings, the love you feel for the explosion of music in a lesser-known song like Doreen. This song represents the best reason to be there, freak or not, carbon-copy moustaches or just curious characters drawn from his peculiar discography. The fundamental reason is his music and his unstoppable genius, still evident in every song. Banned from Utopia do the best they can: provide their live proof. Rating: 9, because they still do it.

(reinvented from the original Italian one, written and published here for SpazioRock — by Ivan Perilli)