Xylophone Mother

From the Dental Floss farms of Montana,
To the lands of the yellowest snow,
Ain't no piece of this world of invention,
That the Xylophone lady don't know.

When you aim to cook pancakes for breakfast,
Right before you start heating the pan,
Please remember electric Marimba,
Is the first thing that goes in the can.

Ruthie the Xylophone lady,
Beating bars on the back of your brain,
On a scale of a million to crazy,
It goes up to eleven again.

Building houses on musical landscapes,
Deconstructed from multiple layers,
Something greasy is going down easy,
While the Glockenspiel runs up the stairs.

Who plays Blue like a Penguin in Bondage,
When their Jazz comes directly from Hell?
Hear that Dinah-Moe Humm in the distance,
Dirty Love in two hundred Motels.

Ruthie the Xylophone lady,
Beating bars on the back of your brain,
On a scale of a million to crazy,
It goes up to eleven again.

In the Crux of a Vibraphone Biscuit,
Where the music's as good as it comes,
Peaches grow in the realisation,
That percussion speaks louder than drums.

Under rated, under stated, Underwood.
Under rated, under stated, Underwood.
More correctly, that should now be, Komanoff.

---

Edited by bassMonkey on Mai 15 2022 13:31

[notes]
Essentially a tribute to the wonderful Ruth Underwood
who is 76 years young a week on Monday.

She played percussion with Frank Zappa's band from the
late sixties to mid seventies (and briefly at the end in the 90's)

If you are not too familiar with Zappa's work the lyrics
wont make a whole lot of sense but if you are you will spot
references to 8 songs, 3 albums and a film (ok, some
intersection in the last two groups.)

If you are a serious Zappa fan you will probably not be
happy that I coloured outside the lines slightly with
regard to material Ruth actually played on. Sorry.

I also concede that no-one ever really called her "Ruthie"
AFAIK. It just sounded more Zappa-esque in the chorus :)