Captain Beefheart: Genius or fraud?
Towards the end of the 1960s, rock and roll was in full domination of the musical landscape, and it would take something seriously unique to topple its influence. Even the new genres that were beginning to emerge were simply mutations of rock tropes that had been evolving gradually over the years, and it was becoming harder and harder for artists to break through with an entirely original prospect. Don Van Vliet, better known as Captain Beefheart, may have been that slice of uniqueness that people dissatisfied with the status quo were looking for.
Considered a genius and visionary songwriter, Beefheart mixed surrealism, free jazz and blues rock to create works of wonder alongside his Magic Band. Again, his work wasn’t entirely unique, but there’s also very little that it can be realistically compared to, with so much of his work being so far out there that it defied comparison. While records like Safe as Milk pushed boundaries with relative care, Trout Mask Replica and Lick My Decals Off, Baby are persistently manic albums that instantly set apart listeners who are after a freaky ride and those without the patience or stomach to bear listening.
However, while he received many plaudits for his songwriting capability, unlike his close friend and collaborator Frank Zappa, he was no virtuoso. Zappa was emerging at the same time with his own brand of freewheeling rock music that defied convention, but he was an undeniable talent when it came to mastery of his musical instruments, seemingly able to improvise over any idea and play some incredibly complex compositions. The various members of the Magic Band were able to do that on their respective instruments, but what about Beefheart himself?
His primary instrument, other than his vocals, was the harmonica, which, with all due respect, isn’t the hardest instrument to master. Limited to one key at a time, there is little getting in the way of your average Joe becoming a master of the harmonica. However, Beefheart could also supposedly play several woodwind instruments, including saxophone, clarinet, and bassoon, all in his repertoire. However, his playing of these far more complex instruments was a lot less refined and lacked any sense of clarity.
You could make the case that his squeaking and squawking on records was perfect avant-garde musicianship, but you could also call it exactly what it is – untrained. Unlike other avant-garde saxophonists such as Ornette Coleman, you couldn’t ask Beefheart to play a tune back to you effortlessly because all he was ever doing was simply blowing into the mouthpiece and hammering down on the valves in the hope that something would come out and fit with the rest of a song.
In a 1981 interview with Down Beat, Beefheart spoke of how he came to record himself playing saxophone for the first time, which he supposedly said without any hint of irony was a decision made because he used to smoke long pipes but didn’t want to take them on tour, “so I bought an alto”.
At the same time, his music was often regarded as atonal and anti-musical. Trout Mask Replica is an impenetrable album that defies all classifications because it often sounds like three songs playing simultaneously. The strangest thing is, this was all deliberate on his part. Beefheart wanted his songs to sound exactly the way they did—chaotic, disorienting, and seemingly lacking in any musical coherence.
However, does that actually stop him from being a genius, or does it highlight the fact that he made it as a successful musician by relying entirely on his oddball personality and sheer uniqueness? If his compositions were deliberately messy, then the people who surely deserve the most praise are his bandmates for being able to withstand Beefheart’s manic approach to guiding them through such insane works.
But, the music wouldn’t have existed without Beefheart’s role as ringleader of the Magic Band, nor would it have been the same without his unrelenting creativity. Whether or not he truly had a musical bone in his body, what he did have was an unmatched talent for writing surreal poetry, bellowing in a deeply affected blues voice, and parping any old mess out of an instrument. To be perfectly honest, I wouldn’t want it any other way.
