The first time I watched Saturday Night Live was in December, 1976, when Frank Zappa was the musical guest. He played I’m the Slime, The Purple Lagoon, and at about 2 a.m. Peaches en Regalia. I must have been in a grumpy mood—I didn’t laugh at the show. I decided it wasn’t a good investment of my time and bought the record. I’d heard Willie the Pimp and Hot Rats and liked them. I didn’t know the rest of the record was jazz instrumentals.
After the instrumentals by Gary Davis earlier this week, I checked my collection for records without anyone singing. There are more than I thought—about 80 of 700. Most of those are jazz, featuring John Coltrane, Charlie Parker, and Art Tatum. A few are classical; there’s a fair amount of comedy. At least one is Dylan Thomas reading A Child’s Christmas in Wales and Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night. It’s 20 below here and I’m ready to hear about the wolves in Wales. (If it doesn’t warm up, I can play Dire Wolf by the Grateful Dead. That mentions a harsh winter. I wonder how many songs mention wolves?)
converselyspeaking 