| Disc 1 | ||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1. |
| 0:35 | 
|
|||
| 2. |
| 4:05 | 
|
|||
|
Act I
SCENE THREE CATHOLIC GIRLS A festive CYO party with crepe paper streamers, contestants for the broom dance, the "hokey cokey", baked goods, & FATHER RILEY making sure the lights don't go down too low... Father Riley And Various Party Goers: (Well) Catholic Girls With a tiny little mustache Catholic Girls Do you know how they go? Catholic Girls In the Rectory Basement Father Riley's a fairy But it don't bother Mary Catholic Girls At the CYO Catholic Girls Do you know how they go? Catholic Girls There can be no replacement How do they go, after the show? Joe: All the way (That's right, all the way!) That's the way they go Every day (That's right!) And none of their mamas ever seem to know Hip-Hip-Hooray For all the class they show There's nothing like a Catholic Girl At the CYO When they learn to blow . . . Father Riley: They're learning to blow All the Catholic Boys! Mary: Warren Cuccurullo . . . Father Riley: Catholic Boys! Mary: Kinda young, kinda WOW! Father Riley: Catholic Boys! Mary: Vinnie Colaiuta . . . Chorus: Where are they now? Did they all take The Vow? Father Riley: Catholic Girls! Warren: Carmenita Scarfone! Father Riley: Catholic Girls! Officer Butzis: Hey! She gave me VD! Father Riley: Catholic Girls! Warren: Toni Carbone! Chorus: With a tongue like a cow She could make you go WOW! Joe: VD Vowdy vootie Right away That's the way they go Every day Whenever their mamas take them to a show Matinee Pass the popcorn please There's nothing like a Catholic Girl With her hand in the box When she's on her knees Larry: She was on her knees My little Catholic Girl Chorus: In a little white dress Catholic Girls They never confess Catholic Girls I got one for a cousin I love how they go So send me a dozen Catholic Girls OOOOOOH! (Well well now) Catholic Girls (Ma-ma-mum ma-ma-mum) Yai-ee-ahhh! Catholic Girls OOOOOOH! (Well well now) Catholic Girls (Ma-ma-mum ma-ma-ma-ma-mum) Yai-ee-ahhh! Joe had a girl friend named Mary. They would meet each other at the Social Club. Hold hands And think Pure Thoughts But one night, at the Social Club meeting... |
||||||
| 3. |
| 2:39 |
|
|||
|
Frank Zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
Ike Willis (rhythm guitar, vocals) Ray White (rhythm guitar, vocals) Bobby Martin (keyboards, vocals) Alan Zavod (keyboards) Scott Thunes (bass) Chad Wackerman (drums) Ooh... A real hologram! We sure do! I mean: not real, but almost a real hologram Hey there, people, I'm Bobby Brown They say I'm the cutest boy in town My car is fast, my teeth is shiney I tell all the girls they can kiss my heinie Tiny heinie ho! Here I am at a famous school I'm dressin' sharp I'm actin' cool I got a cheerleader here wants to help with my paper Let her do all the work 'n' maybe later I'll rape her Oh God I am the American dream I do not think I'm too extreme An' I'm a handsome sonofabitch I'm gonna get a new glove 'n' be real rich Get a good, get a good, get a good, get a good job... Women's Liberation Came creepin' all across the nation I tell you people, I was not ready When I fucked this dyke by the name of Freddie She made a little speech then, Aw, she tried to make me say when She had my balls in a vice, but she left the dick I guess it's still hooked on, but now it shoots too quick Oh God I am the American dream, But now I smell like Vaseline An' I'm a miserable sonofabitch Am I a boy or a lady...I don't know which I wonder...wonder...Hi-ho Silver!... So I went out 'n' bought me a leisure mask I jingle my change, but I'm still kinda cute Got a job doin' radio promo An' none of the jocks even think about tonso Eventually me 'n' a friend Sorta drifted along into S&M I can take about an hour on the tower of power 'Long as I gets a little golden shower Oh God I am the American Dream With a spindle up my butt till it makes me scream An' I'll do anything to get ahead "Hi-ho Silver!" Oh God, Oh God, I'm so fantastic! "Hi-ho Silver!" And my name is Bobby Brown And my name is Bobby Brown "Hi-ho Silver!" Way! And my name is Bobby Brown "Hi-ho Silver!" Oh, never mind... The name of this song is: "Keep It Greasey" |
||||||
| 4. |
| 4:31 |
|
|||
|
Do you know what you are?
You are what you is You is what you am (A cow don't make ham . . . ) You ain't what you're not So see what you got You are what you is An' that's all it 'tis A foolish young man From a middle class fam'ly Started singin' the blues 'Cause he thought it was manly Now he talks like the Kingfish ("Saffiiiee!") From Amos 'n Andy ("Holy mack'l dere . . . Holy mack'l dere!") He tells you that chitlins . . . (Chitlins!) Well, they taste just like candy He thinks that he's got De whole thang down From the Nivea Lotion To de Royal Crown Do you know what you are? You are what you is You is what you am (A cow don't make ham . . . ) You ain't what you're not So see what you got You are what you is An' that's all it 'tis A foolish young man Of the Negro Persuasion Devoted his life To become a caucasian He stopped eating pork He stopped eating greens He traded his dashiki ("Uhuru!") For some Jordache Jeans He learned to play golf An' he got a good score Now he says to himself "I AIN'T NO NIGGER NO MORE . . . HEY! HEY! HEY!" "I don't understand you . . . " BWANA MA-COO-BAH "Would you please speak more clearly . . . " MERCEDES BAINNNNNNNZ Who is who (I don't know . . . ) 'N what is what (Somethin' I just don't know . . . ) 'N why is this (Tell me now . . . ) Appropriot (That's a funny pronunciation if'n ever I heard one . . . ) If you don't like (Where'd you get that word?) What you has got (Appropriot? The word is not . . . ) Drop it in the dirt (Drop it yeah . . . ) 'N let it rot (I can smell it now . . . ) Someone else (Here de come, here de come . . . ) Will surely come (I told you they was comin') 'N pick it up (That's right!) 'Cause he wants some (An' he wants it for free . . . ) And when one day (There will come a day . . . ) You wonder who (I wonder too . . . ) You used to was (Who I was anyway . . . ) 'N what you do (I used to work at the post office . . . ) You'll scratch your head (But I don't wanna un-do my doo . . . ) 'N look around (Just to see what's goin' on . . . ) But what you lost (Can't seem to find it . . . ) Will not be found (A Mercedes Benz . . . ) Do you know what you are? (I know . . . ) You are what you is (I'm the kinda guy . . . ) You is what you am (That ought to be drivin' a Mercedes Benz . . . ) A cow don't make a ham (A four-fifty SLC . . . ) You ain't what you're not (A big ol' red one . . . ) So see what you got (With some golf clubs stickin' out de trunk . . . ) You are what you is (I'm gwine down to de links on Saturday mornin' . . . ) An' that's all it is (Gimme a five dollar bill . . . ) YOU ARE WHAT YOU IS (And an overcoat too . . . ) AND THAT'S ALL IT IS (Where's my waitress? Yeah . . . ) YOU ARE WHAT YOU IS (Robbie, take me to Greek Town . . . ) AN THAT'S ALL IT IS (I'm harder than yer husband; harder than yer husband . . . ) YOU ARE WHAT YOU IS (I'm goin' down to White Street, to the Mudd Club y'all . . . ) AN THAT'S ALL IT IS (I'm goin' down 'n work the wall 'n work the floor . . . ) YOU ARE WHAT YOU IS ('N work the pipe 'n work the wall . . . ) AN THAT'S ALL IT IS (Some more . . . ) |
||||||
| 5. |
| 3:19 |
|
|||
|
Frank Zappa (guitar, vocals, drum machine)
Steve Vai (guitar, acoustic guitar) Ray White (guitar, vocals) Roy Estrada (vocals) Bob Harris (boy soprano) Ike Willis (vocals) Bobby Martin (keyboards, saxophone, vocals) Tommy Mars (keyboards) Arthur Barrow (keyboards, bass, micro bass, rhythm guitar) Ed Mann (percussion) Scott Thunes (bass) Chad Wackerman (drums) Vinnie Colaiuta (drums) Craig Steward (harmonica) Dick Fegy (mandolin) Marty Krystall (saxophone) You-you-you-ooo Look like a dor-r-r-k You act like a dork Most of the time, also You're a dor-r-r-r-k You are a double-dork butt rash You are a dork, dork, dork, dor-r-r-r-k! Nobody wants to... You are boring...you have nothing to say You eat cheese -- you eat cheese and other things You can can wrap up an' take with you From the table With Luigi & The Wise Guys at the table You are a dork You are a dork, dork, dork, dor-r-r-r-k! A double-dork butt rash There's one in every crew -- do you know who you are? We know, but we won't tell you We don't want to hurt your feelings But you're a dor-r-r-r-k! Might as well admit it When you're a dork You're a dork, by the way You're a dork A double A double dork butt rash A double butt rash dork Luigi & The Wise Guys at the table You look like a dork Look loke a dork You act like a dork most of the time You're a dor-r-r-r-k Double dork Double dork Double dork butt rash |
||||||
| 6. |
| 2:28 |
|
|||
|
Ray Collins (lead vocals)
Frank Zappa (lead guitar) Roy Estrada (bass) Jimmy Carl Black (drums) Arthur Tripp (drums) Ian Underwood (piano, alto saxophone) Don Preston (piano) Motorhead Sherwood (baritone saxophone, tambourine) Bunk Gardner (tenor saxophone) Darling, darling, please hear my plea God only knows what your loving does to me... Cheap thrills in the back of my car Cheap thrills, how fine they are Cheap thrills up and down my spine I need it, I need it, 'cause it feels so fine now Cheap thrills all over the seat Cheap thrills, your kind of lovin' can't be beat Cheap thrills up and down my spine I need it, I need it, 'cause it feels so fine now Cheap thrills Cheap thrills Cheap thrills Cheap thrills Cheap thrills, I can't wait another day Cheap thrills, you gotta try to sneak away Cheap thrills up and down my spine I need it, I need it, 'cause it feels so fine Cheap thrills Cheap thrills Cheap thrills Cheap thrills Cheap thrills set fire to my soul Cheap thrills, like a story untold about Cheap thrills up and down my spine I need it, I need it, 'cause it feels so fine Cheap thrills Cheap thrills Cheap thrills Cheap thrills Cheap thrills in the back of my car Cheap thrills, how fine they are Cheap thrills up and down my spine I need it, I need it, 'cause it feels so fine Cheap thrills all over the seat Cheap thrills, your kind of lovin' can't be beat Cheap thrills up and down my spine I need it, I need it, 'cause it feels so fine Cheap thrills Cheap thrills Cheap thrills Cheap thrills Etc. etc. etc. |
||||||
| 7. |
| 2:39 |
|
|||
| 8. |
| 6:41 |
|
|||
|
Frank Zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
Ike Willis (guitar, vocals) Mike Keneally (guitar, synthesizer, vocals) Bobby Martin (keyboards, vocals) Ed Mann (percussion) Walt Fowler (trumpet) Bruce Fowler (trombone) Paul Carman (alto saxophone) Albert Wing (tenor saxophone) Kurt McGettrick (baritone saxophone) Scott Thunes (bass) Chad Wackerman (drums) Eric Buxton (vocals) I used to have a job An' I was doin' very well Depression came along An' everybody start to yell "Where'd they go, them good ol' days, 'An all that crap we used to sell?" Now I'm in Hot-Plate Heaven, at the Green Hotel Republicans is fine, If you're a multi-millionaire Democrats is fair, If all you own is what you wear Neither of 'em's REALLY right, 'Cause neithor of 'em CARE 'Bout that Hot-Plate Heaven, 'Cause they ain't been there They really oughta go 'N find out how the hall-way smell -- They'd benefit to know 'Bout what the bums in there could tell (Of course we're only dreamin', But I s'pose it's just as well That's ALL you get to dream Up in the Green Hotel) Nature didn't put me here An' neither did my fate -- I musta been some even ol' Republican candidate! He's over here in Washington, But I wish he was in HELL 'Cause I'm in Hot-Plate Heaven At the Green Hotel Things is slightly better now; They hope we will forget The misery of 'TRICKLE DOWN', An' jelly-bean etiquette The Regal Presidential Style Has simply not worn well, An' neither has my rags, Up in the Green Hotel |
||||||
| 9. |
| 5:39 |
|
|||
| 10. |
| 9:14 |
|
|||
|
Terry Bozzio (drums, background vocals)
Davey Moire (vocals) Andre Lewis (organ, vocals) Roy Estrada (bass, vocals) Dave Parlato (bass) Napoleon Murphy Brock (saxophone, vocals) Ruth Underwood (synthesizer, marimba) Donnie Vliet (harmonica) Louanne Neil (harp) Ruben Ladron De Guevara (background vocals) Sharkie Barker (background vocals) Flies all green and buzzin', in this dungeon of despair. Prisoners grumble and piss their clothes, and scratch their matted hair. A tiny light, from a window hole, a hundred yards away, is all they ever gets to know about the regular light in the day. And it stinks so bad, the stones been chokin', and weepin' greenish drops. In the room where the giant fire puffer works, and the torture never stops. The torture never stops. Slime and rot, rats and snot, and vomit on the floor. Fifty yoogly soldiers, man, holdin' spears by the iron door. Knives and spikes, and guns and the likes of every tool of pain. And a sinister midget, with a bucket and a mop, where the blood goes down the drain. And it stinks so bad, the stones been chokin', and weepin' greenish drops. In the room where the giant fire puffer works, and the torture never stops. The torture never stops. The torture.. the torture.. The torture never stops. Flies all green and buzzin', in this dungeon of despair. An evil prince eats a steaming pig, in a chamber right near there. He eats the snouts and the trotters first. The loins and the groins is soon dispersed. His carvin' style is well rehearsed. He stands and shouts: All men be cursed! All men be cursed! All men be cursed! All men be cursed! And disagree? Well, no one durst. He's the best, of course, of all the worst. Some wrong been done, he done it first. And it stinks so bad, his bones been chokin', and weepin' greenish drops. In the night of the iron sausage, where the torture never stops. The torture never stops. The torture.. the torture.. The torture never stops. Flies all green and buzzin', in this dungeon of despair. Who are all those people, that he's locked away down there? Are they crazy? Are they sainted? Are they zeroes, someone painted? And it's never been explained, since it first it was created. But a dungeon, like a sin, requires naught but lockin' in, of everything that's ever been. Look at her. Look at him. That's what's the deal we're dealin' in. That's what's the deal we're dealin' in. That's what's the deal we're dealin' in. That's what's the deal we're dealin' in. |
||||||
| 11. |
| 2:20 |
|
|||
|
Frank Zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
Warren Cucurullo (rhythm guitar, vocals) Denny Walley (slide guitar, vocals) Ike Willis (lead vocals) Peter Wolf (keyboards) Tommy Mars (keyboards) Arthur Barrow (bass, vocals) Ed Mann (percussion) Vinnie Colaiuta (drums) Jeff (tenor saxophone) Marginal Chagrin (baritone saxophone) Stumuk (bass saxophone) Dale Bozzio (vocals) Al Malkin (vocals) Craig Steward (harmonica) A boring old garage in a residential area with a teen-age band rehearsing in it. JOE (the main character in the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER'S Special Presentation) sings to us of the trials and tribulations of garage-band husbandry. Central Scrutinizer: We take you now, to a garage, in Canoga Park. Frank Zappa: (It makes it's own sauce...) Joe: It wasn't very large There was just enough room to cram the drums In the corner over by the Dodge It was a fifty-four With a mashed up door And a cheesy little amp With a sign on the front said "Fender Champ" And a second hand guitar It was a Stratocaster with a whammy bar At this point, LARRY (a guy who will eventually give up music and earn a respectable living as a roadie for a group called Toad-O) joins in the song... Larry: We could jam in Joe's Garage His mama was screamin' His dad was mad We was playin' the same old song In the afternoon 'n' sometimes we would Play it all night long It was all we knew, 'n' easy too So we wouldn't get it wrong All we did was bend the string like... Hey! Down in Joe's Garage We didn't have no dope or LSD But a coupla quartsa beer Would fix it so the intonation Would not offend yer ear And the same old chords goin' over 'n' over Became a symphony We would play it again 'n' again 'n' again 'Cause it sounded good to me ONE MORE TIME! We could jam in Joe's Garage His mama was screamin', "TURN IT DOWN!" We was playing' the same old song In the afternoon 'n' sometimes we would Play it all night long It was all we knew, and easy too So we wouldn't get it wrong Even if you played it on a saxophone We thought we was pretty good We talked about keepin' the band together 'N' we figured that we should 'Cause about this time we was gettin' the eye From the girls in the neighborhood They'd all come over 'n' dance around like... Twenty teen-age girls dash in and go STOMP-CLAP, STOMP-CLAP-CLAP... So we picked out a stupid name Had some cards printed up for a coupla bucks 'N' we was on our way to fame Got matching suits 'N' Beatle Boots 'N' a sign on the back of the car 'N' we was ready to work in a GO-GO Bar ONE TWO THREE FOUR LET'S SEE IF YOU GOT SOME MORE! People seemed to like our song They got up 'n' danced 'n' made a lotta noise An' it wasn't 'fore very long A guy from a company we can't name Said we oughta take his pen 'N' sign on the line for a real good time But he didn't tell us when These "good times" would be somethin' That was really happenin' So the band broke up An' it looks like We will never play again... Joe: Guess you only get one chance in life To play a song that goes like... (And, as the band plays their little song, MRS. BORG (who keeps her son SY, in the closet with the vacuum cleaner) screams out the window... Mrs. Borg: Turn it down! Turn it DOWN! I have children sleeping here... Don't you boys know any nice songs? Joe: (Speculating on the future) Well the years was rollin' by, yeah Heavy Metal 'n' Glitter Rock Had caught the public eye, yeah Snotty boys with lipstick on Was really flyin' high, yeah 'N' then they got that Disco thing 'N' New Wave came along 'N' all of a sudden I thought the time Had come for that old song We used to play in "Joe's Garage" And if I am not wrong You will soon be dancin' to... Central Scrutinizer: The WHITE ZONE is for loading and unloading only. If you gotta load or unload, go to the WHITE ZONE. You'll love it... Joe: Well the years was rollin' by (etc.)... Mrs. Borg: I'm calling THE POLICE! I did it! They'll be here...shortly! Officer Butzis: This is the Police... Mrs. Borg: I'm not joking around anymore Officer Butzis: We have the garage surrounded If you give yourself up We will not harm you Or hurt you neither Mrs. Borg: You'll see them Officer Butzis: This is the Police Mrs. Borg: There they are, they're coming! Officer Butzis: Give yourself up We will not harm you Mrs. Borg: Listen to that mess, would you? Officer Butzis: This is the Police Give yourself up We have the garage surrounded Mrs. Borg: Everday this goes on around here! Officer Butzis: We will not harm you, or maim you (SWAT Team 4, move in!) Mrs. Borg: He used cut my grass... He was very nice boy... That's DISGUSTING!! Central Scrutinizer: This is the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER... That was Joe's first confrontation with The Law. Naturally, we were easy on him. One of our friendly counselors gave him A do-nut...and told him to Stick closer to church-oriented social activities. |
||||||
| 12. |
| 3:19 |
|
|||
|
Frank Zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
Ian Underwood (alto saxophone) Bunk Gardner (tenor saxophone) Motorhead Sherwood (baritone saxophone, snorks) Buzz Gardner (trumpet, flugel horn) Roy Estrada (bass) Jimmy Carl Black (drums) Arthur Tripp (drums) Don Preston (piano, organ, electronic effects) Don "Sugar Cane" Harris (electric violin) Lowell George (rhythm guitar, vocals) You know, your momma and your daddy Saying I'm no good for you They call me dirty from the alley Till I don't know what to do I get so tired of sneakin' around Just to get to your back door I crawl past the garbage and Your momma jumps out, screamin' "Don't come back no more" I can't take it My guitar wants to kill your mama My guitar wants to kill your mama My guitar wants to burn your dad I get real mean when it makes me mad Later I tried to call you Your momma told me you weren't there She told me: "Don't bother to call again" 'Less I cut off all my hair I get so tired of sneakin' around Just to get to your back door I crawl past the garbage and Your momma jumps out, screamin' "Don't come back no more" Later I tried to call you Your momma told me you weren't there She told me: "Don't bother to call again" 'Less I cut off all my hair I get so tired of sneakin' around Just to get to your back door I crawl past the garbage and Your momma jumps out, screamin' "Don't come back no more" My guitar wants to kill your mama My guitar wants to kill your mama My guitar wants to burn your dad I get real mean when it makes me mad |
||||||
| 13. |
| 0:12 |
|
|||
|
?: Smurf mee!
?: Smurf meee! ?: Metz Jeff: Right Howard? Howard: Right Jeff, we're going for the money, all the way |
||||||
|
