Zappa dominates the stage

like an emissary from hell

on a throne of rage.

The Mothers of Invention

With long hair, distortions

their swords freed from the scabbards of intention.

the band of threatening proportions.

Spit running from tortured tubes

of burning brass and reeds

frets melting under finger ferrets

stretched skins writhing

reputations maintained

and the foundations complained

at the Albert Hall but stood their ground

while the great dome

drew up the sweat and the sound.

 

Where did all that music go?

Only dead critics and those that were there

can ever know.