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Authors: Kevin Courrier
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his most seductive, the Indian-influenced rhythms of “Abba Zaba” had him at his most transfixing—even if the song’s subject matter concerned nothing more exotic than a peanut bar that features a baboon logo on the wrapper. According to Alex Snouffer, the guitar melody was lifted from a sitar lick heard on one of Ravi Shankar’s album.
Despite the broad musical scope of
Safe as Milk
, the sessions were hardly seamless. While Alex Snouffer, Ry Cooder, Jerry Handley, and John French were well rehearsed, seasoned musicians, Beefheart was scattered as if he were perpetually caught in a windstorm. The windstorm, though, was of his own making, brought on by his trips on LSD which, according to French, led to acute hypochondria. “What followed were constant requests from Don to ‘feel my heart’ and ‘check my pulse,’” French explained. “[I]t became a tedious, wearing, and stressful daily routine for the entire band.” French had to organize Beefheart’s lyrics, which he still kept on scrap pieces of paper. “[A]s I would work on one song, I’d put them in order on the floor and then write them down by looking atthe scraps on the floor,” he recalled. Since French didn’t possess a typewriter, he’d print them out by hand. Richard Perry would then suggest to Beefheart where in the song each lyric would be sung.
Although the mixing of
Safe as Milk
became a long, laborious process, it resulted in a pop album that was filled with quick bursts of chimerical inspiration. Unlike many of the contemporary psychedelic records, ones that conceded to the trends of the moment,
Safe as Milk
challenged all others to keep up. Buddha Records, in particular, was hoping they could get some mileage out of Beefheart’s success by having the group play the Monterey Pop Festival that summer in 1967. It’s fascinating to consider just how Beefheart’s band would have fit into a lineup that included the Byrds, the Mamas and Papas, Ravi Shankar, Janis Joplin, Otis Redding, the Who, and the landmark performance by Jimi Hendrix. However, a gig at a “Love-In” at Mt. Tamalpais in San Francisco changed all of that. Dressed in the natty suits of gangsters, rather than the rustic garb of hippies, they mounted a stage in a show they shared with Tim Buckley, Jefferson Airplane, and the Byrds. But Beefheart was on edge to begin with, feeling the anxiety of performing in front of a large audience, as well as tripping from heavy LSD usage. They started to play “Electricity,” the second song in their set, when Beefheart stopped in middle of the song. “He just froze, turned, and walked off the back of the ten-foot stage, falling on top of [Bob] Krasnow,” John French recalled. Once again, lost in a whirlpool, the omnipresent image of the fish reemerged to cause both panic and dread. Vliet had looked down at a girl in the audience during the song and watched as she turnedinto a vertebrate with gills and bubbles coming out of her mouth. Beefheart’s reaction was to walk right off the stage with the hope that just maybe she’d catch him. She didn’t—and the show ended.
Immediately after the performance, Ry Cooder decided to walk right out of the band. French tried to persuade him to stay until after the Monterey gig, but Cooder was exasperated by all the nonsense, not to mention the anxiety generated within the group by Don Van Vliet. “He’s a Nazi,” Cooder remarked. “It makes you feel like Anne Frank to be around him.” Thanks to Beefheart’s meltdown, the Monterey Pop Festival was not only definitely out, they had to scramble to find a new replacement for Cooder. Beefheart ultimately chose Jeff Cotton to be their new lead guitarist, alongside Snouffer, in October 1967. Cotton was basically a blues player who had once played with John French in Blues in a Bottle. He was an experimentalist eager to try new approaches to the genre. Cotton quickly moved into the band’s digs in Laurel Canyon to begin work on what was to
Despite the broad musical scope of
Safe as Milk
, the sessions were hardly seamless. While Alex Snouffer, Ry Cooder, Jerry Handley, and John French were well rehearsed, seasoned musicians, Beefheart was scattered as if he were perpetually caught in a windstorm. The windstorm, though, was of his own making, brought on by his trips on LSD which, according to French, led to acute hypochondria. “What followed were constant requests from Don to ‘feel my heart’ and ‘check my pulse,’” French explained. “[I]t became a tedious, wearing, and stressful daily routine for the entire band.” French had to organize Beefheart’s lyrics, which he still kept on scrap pieces of paper. “[A]s I would work on one song, I’d put them in order on the floor and then write them down by looking atthe scraps on the floor,” he recalled. Since French didn’t possess a typewriter, he’d print them out by hand. Richard Perry would then suggest to Beefheart where in the song each lyric would be sung.
Although the mixing of
Safe as Milk
became a long, laborious process, it resulted in a pop album that was filled with quick bursts of chimerical inspiration. Unlike many of the contemporary psychedelic records, ones that conceded to the trends of the moment,
Safe as Milk
challenged all others to keep up. Buddha Records, in particular, was hoping they could get some mileage out of Beefheart’s success by having the group play the Monterey Pop Festival that summer in 1967. It’s fascinating to consider just how Beefheart’s band would have fit into a lineup that included the Byrds, the Mamas and Papas, Ravi Shankar, Janis Joplin, Otis Redding, the Who, and the landmark performance by Jimi Hendrix. However, a gig at a “Love-In” at Mt. Tamalpais in San Francisco changed all of that. Dressed in the natty suits of gangsters, rather than the rustic garb of hippies, they mounted a stage in a show they shared with Tim Buckley, Jefferson Airplane, and the Byrds. But Beefheart was on edge to begin with, feeling the anxiety of performing in front of a large audience, as well as tripping from heavy LSD usage. They started to play “Electricity,” the second song in their set, when Beefheart stopped in middle of the song. “He just froze, turned, and walked off the back of the ten-foot stage, falling on top of [Bob] Krasnow,” John French recalled. Once again, lost in a whirlpool, the omnipresent image of the fish reemerged to cause both panic and dread. Vliet had looked down at a girl in the audience during the song and watched as she turnedinto a vertebrate with gills and bubbles coming out of her mouth. Beefheart’s reaction was to walk right off the stage with the hope that just maybe she’d catch him. She didn’t—and the show ended.
Immediately after the performance, Ry Cooder decided to walk right out of the band. French tried to persuade him to stay until after the Monterey gig, but Cooder was exasperated by all the nonsense, not to mention the anxiety generated within the group by Don Van Vliet. “He’s a Nazi,” Cooder remarked. “It makes you feel like Anne Frank to be around him.” Thanks to Beefheart’s meltdown, the Monterey Pop Festival was not only definitely out, they had to scramble to find a new replacement for Cooder. Beefheart ultimately chose Jeff Cotton to be their new lead guitarist, alongside Snouffer, in October 1967. Cotton was basically a blues player who had once played with John French in Blues in a Bottle. He was an experimentalist eager to try new approaches to the genre. Cotton quickly moved into the band’s digs in Laurel Canyon to begin work on what was to
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