The Controversial Author David Walley's Exclusive                                                    Interview About Frank Zappa!

The interviewer is Paul Remington, David Walley wrote a controversial book about Frank Zappa which recieved enormous criticism and praise in almost equal measure, here is a great interview in which he gives us his insight into Frank Zappa. . The interviewer talks to David about his controversial book "No Commercial Potential - The Saga Of Frank Zappa", but most of the interview focuses on Walley's perception of Zappa as a musician and as a man, fascinating reading, enjoy. Thanks to David Walley For letting me publish it on my site.

David Walley (Left) hanging out with Frank Zappa
(right) at Newport Jazz Festivsl, 1969.

The Interview Itself

Key For The interview

PR = Paul Remington
DW = David Walley
Zappa= Frank Zappa

PR: When and how did you formally present your book, "No Commercial Potential", to
Frank Zappa?

DW: Maybe it was in 1970 or 1971 that I approached him with the idea. "I don't want to
impair your ability to earn a living," he said to me. "But you're not," I replied. There's a
passage in "No Commercial Potential", in the older section, which gives the gist of our
conversation on the subject. Don't forget that I was one of the few writers in NYC that
was on his side, who knew how to write about what he was doing. "You're one of the few
people who understand what I'm doing," he told me. I remember when I was winding up
my stay in LA (around the same time that Nigey [Lennon] was living under his piano) and
I told him that I was too overwhelmed by the material, that I was distressed that he could
live in such surrounding chaos (the inter-band, family backstage politics, etc.) and yet be
so alone. He looked at me very queerly and didn't say a word, but I knew that I had hit
home. I remember telling him--must have been four or five in the morning--that I couldn't
do the book, that I didn't know what to do. And for a change, he treated me like a human
being, not just someone he was enduring an interview with, imparting information. He
made me feel better. "Of course you can do it, you know what's going on. You're a good
writer." You see, I also knew that the only way I was going to get him to be real with me
was if I totally lost control and was real myself; maybe too real. I think that he had trouble
being honest with people because he thought they were going to hurt him--that, in effect,
that's what he was always looking for and found. If you want to know the truth, he knew
that I knew, but he also knew that I wasn't about to catch him out. What would have been
the purpose? I could have talked to all his old girlfriends (well, I did) and used that
material. I could have talked to his ex-wife who would have had lots to say, but that
wasn't my intention. That was small shit. It was always a question of recognition, if you
will. I knew who he was, but he didn't have a clue who I was. He had a magnetic
personality and I could see how easy it would have been to capitulate to him. But, then
again, I would no-longer have been my own man and this book would have been a piece
of promotional trash instead of the serious thoughtful and insightful history it has turned
out to be.

PR: When you first approached writing "No Commercial Potential", did you intend to
approach it from a sociological level, or did that transpire as a result of discovering how
much American culture and society was a part of Zappa and his music?

DW: I looked at the music of Frank Zappa as a cultural historian. It was interesting from
the point of view of not only what he was writing (lyrics, musical assemblages of styles)
but how he was doing it. If he was just a rock and roll star, though I might have enjoyed
what he was doing, I wouldn't have been so obsessed with it. Look, I was a grad student
finishing up a MA in Modern European History and doing an essay on "Student
Revolutionary Movements in the Paris Commune". This was 1968. Paris was going up,
and I was wondering what the use of history could be if not as a predictive tool. I looked
on what Zappa was doing as a primary resource, an opportunity to discuss American
culture as it was happening.

PR: You were the first to cover Zappa in a biography. What was there about Zappa that
inspired you to write a book profiling him?

DW: He was something more than just a rock and roll star. Well hell, he really wasn't. He
was a composer who used rock and roll music like another form of American music. I
was struck by his use of musical forms of all kinds as well as the satiric edge of his
lyrics. He had the words and he also had the music, and he was a unique American
character, much like Charles Ives and Howling Wolf. What I'm saying is, I was fascinated
that he drew from all areas of music and made something larger. He had a larger context
than just a pop star. If he was, as a cultural historian, I wouldn't have been so intrigued.
Of course, I would have grooved, but I wouldn't have been so enamored with what he
was trying to do. He was also a figure that was "serious" and at the time
"counter-cultural," but not in the fashion jeans sense of the word.

PR: What stimulated your interest in writing "No Commercial Potential"? How did it
begin?

DW: It was 1967. I went over to see Butchy McCormick and he turned me on. He also
played "Help I'm a Rock", and that's all she wrote. [Smiles] Then I saw the Mothers at the
Garrick [Theater, New York City]. When I moved into New York City and started working
for Jazz and Pop, I did a review of "We're Only In It for the Money" and "Uncle Meat."
Since my publisher was a friend of Frank's, I was able to meet him at the Newport Jazz
Festival where he read the article and told me that I was one of the few people who know
what he was doing. So I continued writing about Frank, and was one of the few critics in
the Underground Press to give him more of a voice.

PR: How did you decide on the approach you took to the 1972 edition?

DW: The material decided the approach for me. [Smiles] At the time I was reading Kurt
Vennegut's "Cat's Cradle", I was struck by the phrase, "As it was supposed to happen,"
which fed into the way I was thinking the life of Zappa was set up.

PR: Did you find profiling Zappa to be a difficult task?

DW: It was hard work because the material was leading me, I wasn't leading the
material. I started with the idea of trying to present this man in his own time and
proceeded from there. One can't help but be influenced by the way Frank makes music,
and I just wanted, as a writer, to make a prose representation of how he makes music,
i.e., using his techniques to write history, because that's what I do.

PR: How broadly was "No Commercial Potential" accepted when it was first published?
Obviously, it's considered one of the essential Zappa bios now. Was it embraced the
same way back in 1972?

DW: It had favorable reviews in all the major music magazines of the day; Rolling Stone,
Creem, Rock Magazine, Win Magazine. Of course, that was helped by the fact that
many of my colleagues who knew me and knew what kind of shit I'd gone through
wanted to be supportive, it was also a really fine piece of work of which they approved.
He was a formidable presence in his "original" Sixties configuration after all.

PR: The material you would have to work with if writing "No Commercial Potential" today
would certainly be richer and different than the material you had available in 1971. I would
assume the way in which Zappa's life changed over the years might alter how you would
view him as a biographical subject. How has the way in which you viewed Zappa
changed since first being inspired by Vonnegut's words?

DW: I don't know about "richer and different." I wrote "No Commercial Potential" to
contextualize Frank, to give readers some idea of where he came from. Most pop stars
have no context other than the commercial world. Zappa's was much more rich. I mean,
the Sixties was quite an interesting period in American history, very unique. Once one
has a context, everything else follows from there. Look, Frank was not a hippie, he was a
freak. Hippie is a made-up merchandizing word. Here's the way it goes:
beatnik-head-hippie-doper-yuppie. Zappa's satire touched on all those changed.
Contemporary American political history was also part of the pool from which he drew
his inspiration, the newspapers, TV. If you're a satirist, you work with what you have. Well
hell, he was like Mort Sahl or Lenny Bruce who used newspapers as part of their acts, to
draw material from. Zappa drew from the electronic newspaper, so to speak.

PR: Yes, that's one of things I find so fascinating about Zappa: he embraced everything,
commercial and otherwise. He was beyond commercialism. It's interesting he was so
caught-up with it in terms of desiring commercial acceptance. On one hand he satirically
bashed it, yet on a personal level he strove for it to embrace him. Do you feel he was
trying to fight a losing battle in his attempt to redefine what is commercial, which is what
would have had to happen had the commercial world accepted him?

DW: I don't think he was "beyond commercialism." He had a highly developed sense of
what was commercial, or at least how to do that part of the business. I think he was just
trying to get his stuff sold to as wide an audience as possible. In my opinion, there are
many other groups who should have learned something from Zappa--about how he went
about his little commercial dance too, positive and negative. [Smiles] You see, when I
blew out of grad school, I was heavily dosed with the classics: Horace, Petronious,
Heredotus, Livy, etc. And I was also a very enthusiastic acid-head in terms of the fact
that I learned from acid about what metaphors are. So anyway, isn't show biz just a large
stage and if you've got the eyes to see, there are interesting fables and lessons to be
learned, positive and negative, like, "never believe your own publicity." It's all about the
importance of having good maps.

PR: I'm reminded of the phrase, "She's frosting a cake with a paper knife," which was
humorous stab at the stupidity of American commercialism. Later in Zappa's life his
interest in observing the American way of life was expressed as concern with him
becoming politically active, striving to make a difference, and to influence us to make a
difference. Interestingly, unlike Zappa's experience with the PMRC and many other
clashes with the American "establishment," he never incorporated his displeasure with
how the US government handled his association with Haval and the Czech government
into his compositions. Do you have any opinion why, and do you feel Zappa viewed the
outcome of his work with the Czech government as a "failure?"

DW: I think he just shined it on. I mean what's the use of pissing off a whole country full of
fans. Anyway governments are funny like that. Actually, I've been doing some sleuthing in
the question, and contrary to what Frank may have said publicly about the incident (the
Czech government has said little officially), it more than likely appears that the reason for
the "demotion" was due to the fact that Frank started making inflated claims about what
he was gong to do and didn't vent any of it with the Czech government. At the time, as
you know, the government was new in the community of nations, so Frank kind of put
them on the spot. I've been in communication with the Czech embassy in Washington
DC trying to track down the "real" story. I've also sent out a few Freedom of Information
Act requests to the State Department for cable traffic between Foggy Bottom and Prague
and I'm awaiting their reply (if any).

PR: "Beyond commercialism" was actually in reference to his music, not him personally.
As commercial as Zappa's music can be, it is so often ignored from airplay. Would you
agree?

DW: Depends on what piece of music you were talking about. I think that for most
program directors, his music was too difficult to conceptualize. They had to think too
much about it, and because they had to think too much about it, they figured that their
audiences would feel the same way. Not the case at all. The program directors were just
very un-evolved. Some of it was too sophisticated, some of it was just too "dirty." Frank
pushed the limits. Unfortunately, the limits pushed back. [Smiles]

PR: "No commercial Potential" contains such a focused view of the Freak scene on LA
during the late sixties, one wonders if you actually were a part of it, or associated with it
at that time. Can you explain your background, and how that background gave you the
knowledge-base you needed while writing the book?

DW: At the time I was working for the East Village Other Jazz and Pop Magazine and
freelancing around. I was living in the Lower East Side of New York. My paper's office
was above the Fillmore East on Second Avenue, culture central as it were. Because of
my work as a journalist, I had access and a certain amount of freebie flights to the coast
where I met the rest of my colleagues. Anyway, the Village was happening and there I
was on 74 E.7th Street, right in the middle of it. My "background" was as a trained
cultural historian who was into music generally and rock and roll as it was constructed
then. I guess I was just lucky to be at the right place at the right time; "As it was
supposed to happen," in my humble opinion.

PR: What contact, if any, did you have with Zappa and his associates prior to writing the
book? Or, did you develop contact with key personnel during the writing process?

DW: I actually had no contact with the members of the band before writing the book.
Well, maybe in passing to say hello. I developed my contacts during the writing of the
book, most specifically with Don Preston and that gang, and later, Mark, Howard, Jim,
Aynsley, Jeff, and George while I was doing full-time work.

PR: What was Zappa's first reaction to the book, and did it change over time?

DW: He was amused but not overly enthusiastic:

Zappa: Listen, now that I'm thirty years old, now that I'm over the hill, I don't give a shit . .
. I don't' care, really. If you want to make a book about me and put your theories and talk
balloons and stuff like that, should I stop you if there's a market? But as far as working
intensively to produce some historical document with all the hot poop, why just the mere
fact that nobody got into it does not interfere with the facts.

DGW: Well as far as writing about the artist and still having the artist around . . .

Zappa: Yeah, I know. The minute you start doing anything like that in the field of pop
music it's automatically . . .

DGW: But I don't consider you a pop composer.

Zappa: Well, it's irrelevant whether you consider me that or not. The more I think of it, the
less I'm interested in impairing your earning power, anyway.

DGW: Well, you're really not.

PR: Zappa's referred to himself, more than once, as being "over the hill" at the age of
30something. Why?

DW: No, he was just being smart-ass. I mean really the whole concept of being "over the
hill" comes from that same fiction perpetrated in the Sixties of "Don't trust anyone over
thirty" when Abbie Hoffman and Jerry Rubin were way over it; in their mid-thirties, I think. I
didn't pay that comment no never mind, I just used it because it showed how Frank
thought. His humorous side I suppose.

PR: Did any of Zappa's associates side with you over this controversy between you and
Zappa, or did they stay out of the whole ordeal?

DW: Many of Zappa's associates approached me and told me that I'd written a dynamite
book. However they told me NOT to tell Frank they'd said so because he would have
fired them. I respected their wishes, naturally, but found some matter of satisfaction in
their approval of what I'd tried to do.

PR: Interesting. A sign of the control Zappa had, not only for his music but also his band
members. How did you find his band members felt about the control Frank required?

DW: They bitched naturally, (cf. 200 Motels), but they also played great things and had a
good time. Of course they had to watch what they said around him or in the press.

PR: Did you find Zappa's early band members respected him? If so, on what level?

DW: His early band were a group of contemporaries, they had their own issues with him,
i.e. whose band was it. By the time Frank fired the first Mothers and he was in control--he
was the leader. He paid them and they worked for him, not, I suspect, with him.

PR: There's a controversial aura around "No Commercial Potential". I've read negative,
offended opinions from some readers. Do you feel "No commercial Potential" is a
potentially offensive book?

DW: No, it only offended Frank, everyone else told me that whether he liked it or not,
that's who he was. I refer you to "Our Bizarre Relationship" which can be accessed
through Bill Lantz's homepage (http://www.primenet.com/~lantz/pages/walley.html), Evil
Bob's homepage, or in the BIBLIOGRAPHY FAQ in "No Commercial Potential".
Somewhere in my files I have the original letter I wrote to Zappa about it, which of course
he never replied to.

PR: I think many may develop the impression that you placed a "spin" on "No
Commercial Potential" based on your dislike of some sides of Zappa. Not many people
who write a profile have such sharp things to say about the subject.

DW: I didn't set out with any sort of "spin" at all. The material that I gathered presented
itself that way. As I said, I let the material take me where it could and I just held on for
dear life at times. Believe you me, I wasn't looking specifically for any negative spin. In
my opinion, the "negative spin" theory came from Frank himself, thinking what I could
have said but didn't. Maybe he could have dealt with it much, much better had I done so.
But, I still don't understand what's negative about saying that human beings are fallible.
He was a human being in a human universe. He was a great artist, possibly a genius.
Even geniuses can be assholes at times--so what. Frank spent lots of his time calling
other people assholes which was his right, but he could never look as clearly at himself.
Then again, how could he? All I can say is that I was lucky to have found topics which
inspired me and made me intellectually grow. Each of the biographies I've done, on
Zappa and Ernie Kovacs (formerly released under the title of "Nothing in Moderation" or
"The Ernie Kovacs Phile"), have shown me how to approach my own work.

PR: WE agree on this, but others may not. My objective view isn't that the "negative spin"
impression of "No Commercial Potential" came from Frank. I see it as a matter of
accepting the human sides of Zappa, which many of his fans (as well as Zappa) find it
difficult to do. It's hard for most to see their hero as less than bigger-than-life. It's easier
to attack your credibility as the writer. You're the main target. Would you agree, and how
have you learned to deal with this?

DW: I'm too much of a small fry as a writer to give "a good goddamn" about it. I know
what I did, I know the care and sweat and toil which went into the writing and research of
the book. As a writer, I'm not as heavily invested in myths as fans might be. When I was
working as a rock and roll critic in the late Sixties and early Seventies, I met a lot of
musicians. Some were decent smart guys while others were just assholes. They weren't
pop stars to me. They were, for the most part, my contemporaries, and we talked about
a whole range of things: art, music, politics, literature. They knew it was a joke. I knew it
was a joke. We just tried to have good conversations about things that mattered. About
the only really bad interview I did was with Jeff Beck and Rod Stewart when Rocket
Rodney was playing with Beck. Between the two of them I couldn't manage to cobble
together a half of an interview. But, for the most part, the people I met were quite
intelligent. They all admired Zappa for what he was doing too, especially the Bonzo Dog
Band and Viv Stanshall, though I think that there was some sort of mutual admiration
society there.

PR: That's understandable, as I'm sure a large segment of your audience were not
offended by your approach. Have you received any feedback from individuals that really
made you feel good about the book. I'm sure you've always felt good about it, but when
someone you admire and respect comes forward to express kind words, that can really
mean a lot.

DW: As a matter of fact, yes. I've had tremendous feedback from readers who bought all
the other editions; from music professors, especially. When I got online and started
talking about it, it was really gratifying to see how long a shadow my book had cast on the
Zappa world in general. One writes, one finishes up one book and starts another. It's like
making a record and putting in the tracks. Some of them have "legs" and some of them
don't.

PR: Did Zappa take any legal action towards you for publishing the book?

DW: None, he, or more importantly, Mutt Cohen, Herbie's brother, made noises like they
were going to sue. My publisher was at a loss, thinking that I'd never gotten song
permission. But I'd done my homework, had given them the permission slip which was
lost when the publisher's accountant died and the papers were lost on the desk for six
months. [cf. "Our Bizarre Relationship"] I was even prepared to personally excise the
offending lyrics (above the fair use quotient), have each person who helped sign the book
and place across the cover "Censored" which would have certainly increased the value
of the book, at least as a historical artifact. When we finally found the slip, we sent in the
money which they returned. We finally said "fuck it" and published the book. It all seems
to have worked out well enough in the long run, eh? [Smiles]

PR: Oh man . . . [Laughs] Censored across the front! Now, that would have been a real
bold and realistic statement. I'm sure Zappa wouldn't have liked that, but how could he
disagree with it? What stopped you from doing it?

DW: What Frank said publicly was many times in opposition to how he acted. What does
Whitman say? "If I contradict myself, I contradict myself." Of course, it would have sold
the book quick and made it an instant artifact, and here I'd be using "time and those
waves" which the book set up to sell it. [Smiles]

PR: Your answer still leaves us hanging. Why did you refrain from releasing it with
"CENSORED" splashed across the cover? He might have, had he been in your shoes.
The controversial aspect of the entire situation is fascinating to me, although I can
certainly see a reason for you not going that far.

DW: I guess, in retrospect, I could have done so, but then it would have been a lie. Had
he served me with a restraining order, I and my friends would have gone into the
warehouse and excised all the material above the "fair use" limits. That would have been
the only reason for resorting to that expedient. My publisher thought it was a neat idea.
Anyway, I knew I was right and fuck him if he couldn't take a joke. [Robust laughter]

PR: If you're simply relaying facts, then I don't understand Zappa's response to your
work. As you said, perhaps he felt the book contained a personal spin based on how you
assimilated those facts, which is the writer's prerogative.

DW: Anybody with any grain of sense also sees this, so I never understood why he
proceeded to spend years of his life (most of the Seventies) trashing me. I remember
telling him that if he didn't like the book, he didn't have to mention it. But as they say,
"Sorrow, sing sorrow, but good win out in the end."

PR: How, specifically, did he personally trash you?

DW: He gave interviews in Gallery magazine and in Penthouse where he characterized
me as a psychotic--a disturbed person who had no understanding of what he (Zappa)
was about. He said in interviews that I must have made it all up, that none of it had any
basis in fact!

PR: How did that feel, having your subject turn on you, so to speak?

DW: I was really hurt by Frank's response to my book since I had nothing but respect for
his work and what he was trying to do. I thought it was an unbelievably paranoid
response, but in retrospect, I suppose it was a product of his world view (which I amply
demonstrated) as well as the fact that indeed he was quite sheltered, or better,
demanded that he be sheltered. He was most stung by what Captain Beefheart said,
though I found what he had to say very accurate and telling. Frank was big for criticizing
everyone else, but couldn't take the heat himself. He disparaged his old band, called Ray
Collins in an earlier edition of my book before it was cut out because of bullshit legal
pressure and because I could no longer produce the tape," "An archetypal acid burn-out
victim," which was a fair enough assessment--cruel, but fair enough if taken in the
context with whatever else he was saying. Anyway, Frank's comments really got me,
and in some ways, inhibited my confidence, though I did go on to write a biography on
Ernie Kovacs, and that was in a way therapy because Kovacs was such a wonderful,
quirky and brilliant man. There wasn't the same kinds of resentments involved with him
that were obviously involved with Frank.

PR: Referring to "Our Bizarre Relationship", how did you view your correspondence with
Ben Watson? [Author of the Frank Zappa book, "Negative Dialectics of Poodle Play",
ISBN 0-313-11918-6]

DW: I found Watson awfully condescending, and that was the major vibe in his book too.
I found it offensive, but then again I probably offend too easily. I have no real love to
pretension, which is why I liked much of Zappa's music. His music was loaded with
pretension, so much so that you had to laugh with him, not at him.

PR: What's interesting about Watson is he's not an American and has never grown up in
the American society that influenced both you and Zappa. Do you feel this may have an
impact on Watson's view of Zappa?

DW: I did bring that up to him, but it seems my comment was below his notice, well he's
a Cambridge educated twit who's just not smart enough. If he was smart, if he was a
real intellectual, instead of erecting barriers to understanding and insight, he'd tear them
down. Intellect is the clear sword that makes things if not simple, at least
comprehensible. It's like Watson's knowledge is only for him and to hell with everyone
else.

PR: It is interesting to read both your correspondences. It's clear you both harbor
different schools of thought. And, perhaps that's good. Having more than one point of
view can result in a different view of Zappa, I suppose. For those that see eye-to-eye with
Watson, his book becomes valuable.

DW: You could have blue-pencilled more than a third of the book and still had something
interesting. His editor obviously was overwhelmed by the force of Watson's bogus-pomp
critical theory to weigh in with his opinions. God knows, I'd have whacked huge chunks
out of it.

PR: For me, my main gripe with Watson's book is similar to my gripe with Nigey
Lennon's book, "Being Frank" [California Classic Books, ISBN: 1-879395-55-X]; I don't
CARE about Watson. Nigey's book seemed more a book about her during her short
period with the Mother's of Invention and Zappa than about Zappa. I don't have anything
against Nigey and respect the work she produced, but I'm not interested in Nigey, I'm
interested in Zappa. Likewise, I'm not interested in Watson's slant on social and political
views. I don't think that slant was helpful to his daunting, yet at times fascinating book.

DW: I've been through this with a number of people. From my perspective, from what I
know/knew of the man, I thought Nigey's book was an interesting portrait and quite
accurate. If you perhaps read our two books together, another dimension of Zappa
appears, that's all I'm trying to say here. Nigey is an extraordinarily bright, competent
writer, very funny too. It's another context of him, before the accident, which inalterably
changed Frank, really.

PR: So, you would corroborate Nigey's view? You also saw the change in Zappa
following his 1971 injury.

DW: Absolutely! In fact, during conversations with her, both on-line and on the phone,
she confirmed my suspicions. It was a real revelation speaking with Nigey because she's
such a brilliant woman and one hell of a writer. By the way, you should check out her
books on Artaud and Mark Twain, "The Sagebrush Bohemian", which deals with Mark
Twain in the West and her thesis that Twain was actually a Western writer, not an
Eastern writer.

PR: It's logical you would be associated with Nigey. How and when did you first meet
her?

DW: John Scialli [father of asteroid zappafrank] "introduced" us on-line. He gave me her
e-mail address and I dropped her a line. We started writing, and writing, and writing, and
then calling, and writing and then collaborating.

PR: Zappa's life was so influenced by American culture, it almost appears Watson was
unable to identify with it. Now, as an American, I found this aspect of "No Commercial
Potential" perhaps the most fascinating. As Frank said about music, there's no right or
wrong. Your book and Watson's book are what they are. We decide for ourselves what is
right and wrong, accepted or unaccepted, liked or disliked.

DW: Sure, that's what makes horse races, that's what makes the history of biography so
interesting. One thing that's for sure, without me, Watson wouldn't have had a clue.
Anyway I've been told by real live professors at real live universities and colleges that if
one wants to know about America in the Sixties, my book puts them there quickly,
accurately, and deftly. Don't forget, I've always seen myself as a cultural historian, even
when I was writing about pop music. At one time I thought that it was a mirror into the
soul of America, now-days it's more like just another sealed tuna sandwich in the
consumerist mall world we all know and loathe.

PR: I don't mean to slam Watson. I've heard him interviewed, and was quite taken by his
intelligence and ability to analyze. and he is very insightful at times. For me, he has a
tendency to over-analyze. Negative Dialectics of Poodle Play contains a lot of really
interesting information. I just didn't care for the way he wrapped his own words around
some of the information, and the slant he put on the book.

DW: That's exactly right, and that's exactly what I told him though I don't think he
responded to me, or if he did, it was in code. Life's too short to be spending time playing
the kinds of intellectual games Ben finds fascinating. But, then again, England only has
four television stations. [Smiles] Real intellectuals don't need to obfuscate what they
analyze. Put another way, real intellectuals make things easy to comprehend because
they have an overview, and that's something I don't think Ben has achieved yet. Maybe
it's a function of his age or the company he keeps in England, I really don't know. For me
it was showboating of the worst kind. I'm not interested in the kinds of power games or
submission and domination that Ben seems to prefer, at least in "Negative Dialectics of
Poodle Play".

PR: Have you read any of the other Zappa books, aside from Watsons, and have any
impressed you?

DW: As far as it went, I thought Michael Gray's book had some merit (more on Pamela
Zarubica who'd I'd love to get back in contact with). Gray did use much of my book (and
credited me with same, thanks Michael). He has a definite opinion about things and talks
about his family (something which I thought was beside the point). Whatever Miles does
is fine with me, I know him and trust him as a journalist. As for the rest, I can't say,
though I'd like to see what Neil Slaven has to say for professional curiosity surely.

PR: Regarding the latest edition of "No Commercial Potential", why did you take such a
different approach in the chapter content between the 1971 and 1980 edition, then again
between the 1980 and the 1996 edition?

DW: For one thing, I was no longer in contact with Zappa, as you no doubt can
understand now. Funny about the 1980 edition, it was actually the booksellers, the
salesmen in the field for EP Dutton who asked the publishing house if they could get an
update. That was pretty neat. By the time 1995 rolled around, the old man had died, I was
older and perhaps a little wiser, and had some more perspective, I decided on that
approach. By the way, the new chapter was written using the Internet, and my was it
helpful! That's how I found the Marshall interview. I then found out that it was my old
friend Bob Dean, who I'd known since the late Sixties, who was also a big Zappa fan and
who'd actually used what I set up in the first edition to frame his interview questions.

PR: I see, so the update was initiated by the publishing house. Did you have thoughts of
updating it yourself, prior to their contacting you?

DW: Absolutely not! I thought that I was done with that part of my life. [Smiles] It was
Gary Lucas, an old colleague of mine--one hell of a guitar player who played with
Beefheart--who kept going on about how I should check out Da Capo Press, how they
put out all kinds of great rock and roll books. So I did a cold call to Mike Dorr, did my
dance, he read the book, proposed it to his editorial board, and the rest, as they say, is
history (or better, a continuation of history).

PR: When the book was released, did you have any idea it might become an important
sociological and historical "period-piece?"

DW: No, not really. I was just concerned at the time in trying to present an approach
which reflected my subject, so the reader could understand through prose what Zappa
was up to. Remember, I told you I was trying to use Zappa's tools ("time and those
waves") to do so.

PR: "Time and those waves" is an interesting way to describe it. You begin "No
Commercial Potential" describing how Zappa's concept of time and those waves applied
to his work. What was there about this approach Zappa found appealing? He carried his
use of "time and those waves" through Civilization Phaze III.

DW: I liked the way he used his own time, enfolded into his creative time, how he made it
all part of his Project Object, i.e. his larger oeuvre. You see, the Project Object was all of
his time: interviews of him, films etc., his concerts, his studio work. To understand the
whole scope of the Project Object perforce one has to be conversant with ALL and
EVERYTHING. Which is what, in some ways, "You Can't Do That On Stage Anymore" is
all about. Once one grasps that conceptual continuity, one can have a full appreciation.
Of course, as I might have said, Zappa was at times not the best judge of what was
really good, and from his perspective, everything he ever did showed great genius, or a
genius in the making. Not always the case.

PR: And, of course, as you've pointed out, the only person who really was conversed
with ALL and EVERYTHING was Zappa. His vault holds evidence of this. With him gone,
who can assess everything that's in there from memory? So, the Project/Object was
primarily an appreciated concept within Zappa with us enjoying his Conceptual Continuity
as an observer. Would this be a correct statement?

DW: Absolutely! You buy the music of Zappa, you buy into his universe which he was
always in the process of defining, refining, commenting on, living, etc., etc.

PR: You stated in "No Commercial Potential", "[Frank] works so hard at not being
serious, that he even is serious." (P.4) This appears to apply not only to his social side
but his compositional side. I'm thinking of compositions like Billy the Mountain, and many
others. Learning what makes Zappa tick, one might be surprised by this dichotomy. Do
you have any feelings why--even through his frustrating childhood and professional life,
which instilled a mounting level of cynicism--he maintained such a biting sense of
humor? Perhaps it was his way of sneering at the world?

DW: It was his defense against critical failure. What he had most of all was a naked will
which showed in his compositional efforts. At any rate, he thought of himself as an
Outsider in the classic Colin Wilson mode (great classic book on alienation). Look, the
world is a pretty absurd place, people are strange, right? If you can't laugh at it, you have
to cry. Who needs that? There's also something of cosmic laughter in Zappa's satire,
though it did get more than a little heavy-handed at times. I think that was due to his
pandering to the tastes of his audience as they developed.

PR: Zappa's life was his work, which he never actually considered "work," from what I've
been able to determine. During your friendship with him, did he have recreational
activities and personal interests outside of music?

DW: [Robust laughter] Are you serious? When would he have had the time? His
amusements, I suspect, were being on the road and watching and writing, you know, the
experience of being detached and out there in the Netherlands. Touring does make you
crazy, and Frank was crazier than most. After a while one tends to view the world from
the aspect of a traveling musician on tour, it can't be helped. I mean, room service is a
"heavy" concept while living the normal life that we lead, unless we're Yuppie capitalist
scum/bond traders living in an American Express Gold World.

PR: Was the view of Zappa you placed in the Afterword formed during and after your
work on "No Commercial Potential", or was it formed before the book was written?

DW: It was written on the day that I heard that he died. Oh, I'd been thinking about writing
something, just for my files, just to get it off my chest. I actually sat down and wrote the
Afterword the day that he died, edited it quite a bit and sent it off to the New Yorker
Magazine. When I finished the update, I decided that I wanted it in the book as well; as
my voice, my thoughts. I'd done my "job" as Zappa's biographer and I thought it was time
to step out from behind the footlights and give my little speech. If the book hadn't been
re-released, the Afterword would have stayed on my hard drive as blank, empty
electronic space. [Smiles]

PR: Reading the Afterword, it seems as though you criticize Zappa with the same level of
cynicism Frank was known to express himself. Why did you feel this was a proper
conclusion to the book?

DW: What's good for the goose is good for the gander, I suppose. It's what I felt, and I
thought I was being honest with myself because indeed I was conflicted about him. I
really did love the man and his work. I just didn't like how he treated me when I'd done
nothing to him. I think that considering what I could have written, I definitely was rather
"nice" to him in that regard. Anyway, what would have been the point about writing a book
which trashed someone whose music I respected and whose vision I somehow shared.
What, writers aren't supposed to express themselves? He was a big one for honesty,
and a big one for truth telling. I thought it was only fitting that I expressed my views. It's
too bad it didn't appear in the New Yorker, it would have been a revelation.

PR: In the fourth paragraph of the Afterword you state, "[Zappa] was a victim of his own
publicity, and always seemed afraid to commit himself . . . Still, it was a cop-out not to
commit himself while being famous for accusing others of that failure." Yet, in the
following paragraph, you state, " . . . [Zappa] was deeply committed to musical
excellence." Can you clarify what appears to be a contradiction?

DW: Well that's the way I saw it. I was talking about intellectual honesty vs. musical
integrity, I suppose. He disparaged his music even as he performed it and intensely
cared about it. It used to blow his mind when I said that I really liked his classical music;
best of all, his chamber music. He couldn't just present it, he had to stick your nose in it
to show you just how smart he was when all he had to do is be himself.

PR: Can you give an example of how Zappa used his intelligence?

DW: No, I really can't. You see, he had a way of intimidating people, and you had to be
very strong to hold your ground. It's almost like conversation was an effort to him, or
better, at least to me, it always felt like even when he was talking to you, he was being
interviewed. The only time I got him to be real with me was when I made the decision to
just lose it--to drop my journalist/biographer mask. That's when I told him that I was
having trouble with the material and I didn't think I could do a good job. And he actually
made me feel better. But this, of course, was before he saw the galleys and we had our
little discussion about "facts" vs. "opinions."

PR: We're your personal visits with Zappa an "effort" for him, or was this the way he was
while in the public eye?

DW: From what I have found out, he did that with everyone, even when he was in bed.
You'll have to ask Nigey about that, but that's just the way he was. He was uncomfortable
within himself and only was really happy when he was working and writing. He was a
monomaniac, but in a good way, I'm thinking. [Smiles] In public he had this persona that
he was genial but detached. Well, at least to me it was kind of an imperious attitude.
After a while it didn't bother me so much and I just talked "through" it, didn't pay it any
mind, kept on trucking, smoked another cigarette and waited.

PR: You say, he was uncomfortable with himself--In what way?

DW: Body language. His inability to "dance," perhaps. I think he was uncomfortable with
language, though, in my opinion, he was a good writer when he had the mind. He once
told me that writing was "a low evil mean form of enterprise," but I knew that was just
Frank being cute.

PR: I wonder if Zappa's conversations with you were an effort for him, in a sense, due to
the issues he had with "No Commercial Potential". What do you think?

DW: Not before the book or before he saw the galleys. I spent quite a bit of time just
hanging out with him, watching him edit tape, and talking with him while he did. The
bottom line was that every time I was in LA, I could always see him. He always told me to
come by, and I did. I didn't cover him like a cheap suit. When he was in New York City at
the Fillmore, I'd see him at the One Fifth Avenue or backstage at the Fillmore. He was
nice. He was cordial enough. I thought we were becoming friends in a certain way. At
least he appeared to "like" me as far as he was going to "like" anyone who wasn't directly
connected with his job.

PR: Were these social visits, or were these visits in context with the research required to
write "No Commercial Potential"?

DW: I guess a bit of both. For the record, Frank always claimed after the book came out
and when we were still talking that I "abused his friendship," and I could never figure what
that meant. I think he genuinely liked me and enjoyed talking to me if only because I knew
at least musically what he was trying to do. But his life revolved around his studio, the
road and writing music, as far as I could tell. Friendship works both ways. It was okay if I
sought him out (hell, I was being "useful" to the Project Object). But as far as him giving
me a call or dropping me a line, I don't think so. Look, I genuinely loved hanging out in the
studio where time stood still, where one could walk in at nine at night and come out when
the sun was coming up again. I liked that. The trouble was that I always ran out of
cigarettes about half-way through these sessions and I'd have to smoke his shitty
Winstons. [Laughs]

PR: [Smiles] Did Zappa remain as detached when he realized you weren't intimidated by
his responses?

DW: I couldn't tell you for sure. I was just trying to maintain my "cool," such as it was.
What I'm saying was that it was my "perception" that he was detached, but subsequently
I've been told that his general style was like that too. According to Nigey, even in bed.

PR: This seems to be the general approach his family has taken. While I might refrain
from saying they are "detached" from the commercial community and the public eye,
they do live on their own island, much the way Zappa established himself. Do you feel
they are this way because they've learned to be that way, or because they've learned
that's what works?

DW: Perhaps they have learned, but it seems that his kids are just like in the Steely Dan
song, "Hollywood Kids" (Making movies of themselves, you know they don't give a fuck
about anybody else, etc., etc.). I guess if your Dad's a cool rock and roll star, even if you
only see him for less than six months a year, that's worth points in the high school. Still in
all, Frank was a good provider for his family, that was his function and he did it well. As
far as not being around for your kids when they're growing up (or even when you're
there)--not being able to see them because you're on a different schedule--artists have
that problem with their kids all the time, it just depends on how they deal with it, in my
opinion.

PR: How did Frank deal with it, from what you saw? He appears to have divided his life
into two areas, his music and work, and his family, never involving Gail in his music. Yet,
he did involve a few of the kids in his music at times, and Gail did run the home
business. They seemed to be involved in his working world to some extent.

DW: As I must have said, Frank was a terrific teacher and I saw that the pitfalls were of
imbalance, the need for the balance between force and form, that old occult dictum. As I
said, the music business was a moral/spiritual theater and if you had eyes to see it, and
the brains to process all that information, you could learn how to live a successful life.
There are positive and negative lessons. It's like learning how to smoke dope, or deal
with psychedelics, or even alcohol. It's all about finding limits--testing yourself. When I
was a kid, I used to have this saying by Thomas Jefferson over my desk, "You don't
know what is enough until you know what is more than enough." Really, it's all about
maps. You can be in the right place, but with the wrong maps or no maps, you're lost.

PR: Did you spend enough time in the studio with him to be able to gain a sense for how
he "operated" in the studio, using the studio as a tool? If so, can you share some of your
experience?

DW: I never saw him record but I did spent time with him while he was editing Uncle Meat
(around the same time that Wadleigh was cutting the negative for "Woodstock"). It can
be dull-fucking-boring work unless you're into it. I remember the evening because I'd
gotten a freebie out to LA as--get this--a reporter for the East Village Other covering
Playboy After Dark. Frank said I was welcome to hang out. He'd be in the film editing
studio and if I wanted to come and hang, I was welcome. As a rock and roller back in
those days, the record companies had a little more money to spread around. There were
junkets (just like the grown-up media). Dig this! I was given a roundtrip first-class trip on
TWA, comped to stay at the Tropicana Motor Lodge on Sunset Blvd., a notorious sink of
rock and roll depravity. I went out there with $20, I came back with $9. So I guess the
answer is that I really didn't see him in his studio environment. Look, any piece of
technology connected to media, once Frank got the hang of it, was a useful studio tool:
Moog synthesizers, ARP synthesizers, all that Guitar Player World techno-shit. He was a
tinkerer, an authentic American character. Maybe he thought of himself as Edison or
Nicola Tesla, for all I know. But, again, I'm a cultural historian looking for patterns or
better, allowing them to coalesce. Still, it's the quality of time spent with Frank, alone. I
always had to be on my toes. After all, I did understand he was working. And it's true,
artists use the excuse of working in all kinds of ways. Some do so to avoid their wives or
families or the accreted bullshit that builds around the two. If you have an understanding
wife, you're a lucky man. If you have an understanding supportive wife who not only can
tell you things but you'll listen--that you're acting like a jerk around your kids--then you've
got a jewel. To be an artist's wife--to be an asset--she's got to be as creative with what
she does as you with what you do. Luckily, mine's a therapist and a damned good one, If
the truth be known. I owe so much of what I am now to her. Writing is also my life, but
without the other human component, it really wouldn't be what I want it to be--with my
words having weight, power and force, making me able (in whatever I address myself) to
make a statement which just hangs out there like Voodoo Chile by Jimi Hendrix. (Well,
what can I say? It's a powerful, powerful transcendent jam.) [Smiles]

PR: It sounds like your married life and working life are in balance. Is it completely
separate, or do you involve your wife in your work? For instance, have her proof material,
involve her in your ideas, etc.

DW: Absolutely she's involved. She reads all my material. And thank God for the
computer because in the old days I'd bring in material which she'd read and be afraid to
make any suggestions because she knew how long it took me to type it all up on my
Selectric. Now she has no fear and I don't mind--a few keystrokes and PRESTO, new
copy. She has a very good sense of what works and what doesn't, when I'm being clear
and when I'm not. She's my partner. She keeps me balanced, which is a blessing
because I find that writers tend to get unbalanced and out of touch. Actually, it's having a
family which keeps things in perspective, and for that I'm thankful. If I hadn't married my
only wife, I'd really be in a bad way. She keeps me on target and focussed, gives the
reality check I need when I get out of line. She's an equal partner. I don't think Frank
approached the "Gail" question quite like that, and that's too bad. If Frank had a wife who
was his equal, or who had good maps, Frank could have been greater still. Oh well, life is
strange like that. It's like my old dear late friend Vivian Stanshall of the Bonjo Dogband
used to say, "Afterlife, after shave."

PR: The pop star of today has been redefined over the last three decades while
popularity and acceptance is a universal dream that remains the same. Zappa rarely
appealed or was accepted by the pop market, yet harbored a brutally loyal fan base that
was built with little influence of airplay (in the US). Do you feel Zappa had an inner desire
to be accepted much the same way as a "pop star?"

DW: Sure, he wanted to be a pop star but only on his own terms. Not an unreasonable
idea. Just like I wanted to be accepted for the writer I am, one who writes about important
subjects in a unique manner. Frank was lucky: he developed a fan base that supported
his concerts and bought his albums and because he had total control of the artistic and
manufacturing end, he was able to make a fine living doing so. He had it all, in my
humble opinion.

PR: For him to desire to be a pop star on his terms, it would require a re-definition of
what "pop" was at the time (or any time). Do you feel he was aware of this?

DW: Sure he was aware of it. These are the rules: if you want to win, you've got to have
"time and those waves" at your disposal. I'm sure that Frank was amused to get his
"Lifetime Achievement Award" from NARAS, but he knew it was a shuck and a jive. He
sure as hell scared the shit out of them when he was alive, didn't he? I think Frank
wanted to be remembered, and perhaps might be, once the bloom of fandom had been
burnished a bit, as an American original Composer like Charles Ives. It's a tough call to
make, a tough concept, I think, for a lot of people who happened to be habituated to the
idea of consumerism.

PR: As a historian, do you feel Zappa immerged at just the right time, considering how
much the current social and cultural world affected his musical output?

DW: Absolutely! He (and we of that generation) lived in interesting times, fruitful for
satirists and social critics. I know no one wants to hear it, but living through the Sixties
was an exciting and scary time. Frank was THE quintessential artist of his time, even if
most people preferred to concentrate on the Beatles. Frank was a product of "time and
those waves." He appeared "as it was supposed to happen."

PR: What's new in the latest edition of "No Commercial Potential"?

DW: Life after 1980, concepts of creative continuity, how he makes his music, a short
survey of albums, how they fit with the overall continuity of his work, updated
discographies, bibliographies, videographies, fanzine lists, Internet references, his
fascination with Synclavier and reasons for same, 1988 tour melt-down, etc. If you look
at the chapter precis at the beginning of the book, that will give you the overview.

PR: Were there other additions you would have liked to have included, but just didn't
have the time or support of the publishing house?

DW: You see, the thing about the original edition of "No Commercial Potential" was that it
was a once in a lifetime kind of effort. There was no way I could actually BE that person I
was back then, I no longer had the time. Anyway, back then I was un-encumbered (well
that's not the right word) with responsibilities. Now I have four children, a wonderful wife,
four mini horses, seven cats, two dogs, some fish, etc. What made even updating the
book so difficult was that I had to keep the same set of "eyebrows" on the material, the
same overview. Talking to a new set of musicians wasn't going to get me any more
insight than I already had. So what was the point of that? Putting it another way, I couldn't
duplicate the original thrust of "No Commercial Potential", the 1972 edition. Of course I
could have done some more historical sleight-of-hand, but really, I was less interested in
that.

PR: Can you explain "eyebrows"?

DW: Same tone, feeling of ironic detachment, that's what I mean by eyebrows. The
eyebrows of the face give the face character. I guess that's what I'm trying to say here.

PR: What are you working on now? What's next for David Walley?

DW: I'm working on a book for Plennum Press (a subsidiary of the same company that
Da Capo is) called "TEENAGE NERVOUS BREAKDOWN: music, politics and high
school in the Post-Elvis Age". It started off a few years back as a book called "PLAY
SCHOOL: the highschoolization of American Life", and it managed to segue into
Teeenerve. Seems my Da Capo editor was talking with the Plennum editor. The latter
wanted someone to do a book on rock and roll. My editor suggested me, and that's how it
happened.

PR: When can we expect to see it hit the market?

DW: If I'm a good boy (and I'm hoping to be), the manuscript is due in two months. With
luck, it will appear in the Fall of '97.

PR: Will it be hardback, softback, or is that and the price yet to be determined?

DW: Hardback, I think. But this is more of an academic house and I haven't really sat
down with my editor yet. From looking at their list, I'd venture to say that Plennum has
never done anything like this. Me, I'm hoping that it's more than a fair approximation of
what I've been thinking about for the past twenty-five years. I've been waiting a long time
to write this book, and I have a feeling many other people out there have also--some of
them readers of "No Commercial Potential".

PR: Will it have international distribution?

DW: Why not? It could also be sold to a mass market paperback house. I could appear
on Charlie Rose and Letterman. [Laughs with a sarcastic grin]

PR: Of all the profiles you've written, which is the most inspiring for you, personally?

DW: Two for two--Zappa and Kovacs ain't too shabby for this cultural historian! [Smiles]

David Walley lives in Williamstown, Massachusetts with his wife, four mini horses, seven
cats, two dogs, and various other animals. He continues his freelance writing, is
currently working on his next book, and a collaboration with Nigey Lennon.
 

Short Cut Home