Had just heard of this Finish Band "Noidannuoli". Thanks to Andrew Greenway for tweeting this and putting his tweet log up on his website. Humorously the english translation for the name of the band is Lumbago. No back pain with this one.
So as I am watching I am thinking this is a modern cover performance, where this band not only had the old school instrumentation, and but also, all the regalia of early 70s, clothing, hair, TV vibe and color. All that aside, the aural experience made me think of how nice they achieved the sounds that FZ was using back then.
Only now seeing this was a TV performance from Finland in 1971 I am NLightened. Not that I have ever kept in tune with each and every Zappa cover band over 6 decades I've been listening to FZs music but this was a pleasant way to start the day. Yes, granted that we are lucky to have another day, this is a most pleasant surprise.
sing along "I just can't keep myself from talking".
It's humorous to look at some of the slideshows that people make of old cultural songs. At times, the lack of investigation and diligence is what brings a chuckle. While there are seemingly a few excelent photo shots of NYC during the times of the residency of The Mamas and The Papas, case in point of humor is in where the song speaks/sings of their moving out to Laurel Canyon. Have to wonder why the first photos moving westward are of Monument Valley and The Grand Canyon. No intent to take away from the beauty of the Colorado Plateu, but the song is clearly about opening blinds and minds to the freak out culture that rooted there in the 60s.
It's unfortunate that some homes are sold. If there was one home in Laurel Canyon that was the stairway to heaven of open minds and creativity it was the Zappa home. Not to take away from the beauty of the slideshow that was part of the homes sale but how this was not turned into a museum is a a tragedy.The real inner beauty of 7885 Woodrow Wilson Dr could not be seen in a real estae sale slideshow. It was in the chisseling of the mountain of the composer, the times the family lived there. So the home went from open blinds and minds to something that now only exists in the immagination of the immaginer. I have no idea what time the clocks are now set at, but as the composer alerted us,