The only things I knew about Frank Zappa before writing this review were as follows. Firstly, he named his first born – Moon Unit Zappa, shortened, for her own sake, to Moon. And secondly, the man had enough facial hair to keep a family of black bears warm for the winter’s hibernation.

My musical misgivings aside, 2014 celebrates the fortieth anniversary of Frank Zappa’s cult classic Apostrophe (‘), the album remastered and rereleased for a new generation of musicians and listeners, who owe a lot to a man who quite frankly (no pun intended) stretched the boundaries of modern music as we know it. Zappa’s music was an eclectic mix of sometimes satirical, sometimes political, and at all times talented variations upon a musical theme; music which blended elements of Jazz-rock fusion, and classical music into an experimental orgy.

1974’s Apostrophe (‘) is an album of two halves, following, perhaps, the two sides of Zappa himself, the emphaticable storyteller and the masterful musician. The album is divided by these boundaries, the first half, a melange of dreamtime recollection and the B-side an experimental masterwork, akin to a jam session, which it very much was.

The opening track, ‘Don’t Eat the Yellow Snow,’ is a didactic recollection of Zappa’s dream about a young Eskimo named Nanook. These dream sequences involving Nannook are compounded and developed upon throughout the first half of the album venturing away from the icy tundra, through pancake houses and finally to handlings with all manner of shady characters. The kind of ‘dreams’ only sleep deprivation and behind the counter pharmaceuticals can only achieve. Regardless of the origin of Zappa’s story, the narrative nature borrowing from the Blue/ Jazz tradition, strong within American music, is diversified by the almost orchestral precision of the musical arrangements.

Zappa found minimal ‘mainstream’ success with the release of ‘Yellow Snow,’ however the track peaked at 82 on the Billboard chart. The success of the album itself was a DIY / word of mouth triumph, akin to our modern viral chart toppers. Apostrophe found a spot in the Billboard’s top ten albums and Zappa’s commercial success was assured from then on.

The B-side consists of a series of instrumental sessions which vary from the first half of the album in a drastic central partition. As soon as his satirical shoes are loosened, a serious persona overtakes the album, no better described than by the title track. ‘Apostrophe’ heavy driving rhythm and meandering bass create a simplistic head-bobbing track. As the movement continues the elements converge and complicates, upping the instrumental-ante. ‘Apostrophe’ is pure instrumental from start to finish, exuding a vibe comparative to Led Zepplin.

‘Uncle Remus’ is a politically powerful demonstration of Zappa’s talent as a multi-facetted lyricist, playing on the theme of racial equality in 1970s America. The opening line, ‘Are we moving too slow’ composes the message in a nutshell.

Twenty years on from his death, how has Zappa’s legacy affected the music which we listen to? Apostrophe (‘) was Zappa’s eighteenth studio album, elapsing in a space shy of a decade. To call Zappa prolific is to understate the point. His musical contribution was immense, on the scale of a Hemmingway or a Picasso. Zappa was very much a pioneer, borrowing from his classical inspirations, a virtuoso guitarist, technical and electronic genius who revolutionised the sights and sounds of popular music Paul McCartney even cited Zappa’s experimental music for the inspiration behind Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band; which is the musical equivalent of Jesus telling you he picked up that fancy walking-on-water trick from another entirely godly individual.

Tom Keane