11/06 @ The Palace, Albany
Photos by Vanessa Lewis
“Dweezil’s ability to write and perform music that rivals his dad’s in both composition and difficulty was a true measure of the moniker of this tour.”
With this latest tour, Dweezil Zappa has been playing his father’s music for only a decade shy of his father himself playing this repertoire. Picking up the torch 13 years after his death, Dweezil’s “Like Father, Like Son” tour is a celebration of 20 years playing this music, and we can count ourselves fortunate that they brought it to the Palace Theatre.
Having had the privilege of chatting with Dweezil himself in advance of the show, I was already buzzing with excitement — especially with the show taking place at such an iconic theatre, where Frank himself played many times, and a place that never gets any less breathtaking. As the seats filled in, it was clear I wasn’t the only one thrilled to be there — the place was loud before the show even started… and then the band took the stage.
As the five-piece band made it to their respective places on stage, with Dweezil picking up his purple guitar, the crowd erupted. The band jumped right into the aptly-named song, “Purple Guitar,” which is one of Dweezil’s originals. It was immediately clear this would be different than any other Dweezil show up to this point. The lines have now been blurred, where this journey with his father’s music wasn’t simply Zappa-playing-Zappa anymore, but has now become Dweezil’s domain and his torch to carry. Every note he’s ever played has been directly influenced by his dad; it’s all part of the lore.
From there, they would play all Frank material, first jumping into one of my personal favorites, “Stink-Foot” off of the album Apostrophe. With Schiela Gonzales handling lead vocals, everything felt like a spot-on rendition until Dweezil started playing his solo. No longer does it feel like he’s simply trying to emulate his dad’s playing, but rather is playing his own way. It is fitting since each solo is improvised within a set framework, something Frank was infamous for and continued to blur the lines of where his father’s work ended and where Dweezil’s began.
The rest of the setlist was a nice mix of hits, deep cuts, and even some audience participation. When one of the audience members screamed at the top of her lungs after Dweezil announced that they’d be playing “The Torture Never Stops,” he called her down to the stage and eventually had her come up to “give a visual representation of the torture,” and to do the “screaming parts.” The stage show aspect of Frank’s live shows was alive and well with this impromptu moment. The rendition of the song itself saw crew member Pete Jones take over on lead vocals, and it was a stunning performance by all — particularly Dweezil.
The solo he took was the solo of the night. One of the thoughts going through my head was, he might be the world’s greatest guitarist at this very moment in time. For most hearing this moment, if Dweezil wasn’t there already, he would have definitely put himself in the conversation of greatest living rock guitarists.
The second to last song of the set saw the band play the iconic “Eat That Question,” which opened with the infamous keys intro (originally performed by George Duke) from the newest member of Dweezil’s band, Bobby Victor. He had the chance to go off and play one of the most intense rhodes solos ever heard, while also being incredibly musical. Gonzales then got a chance to shine on the saxophone. Everything she does feels super-human and impossible, but she makes it look so effortless. It’s really no surprise she’s been by Dweezil’s side playing this music since the beginning; she’s truly a musical swiss-army knife. At its conclusion, the entire building was on our feet for a much deserved standing ovation as the band took their bows.
To end the set, Dweezil introduced a song from his first album written at just 14 and released when he was 15 — “Electric Hoedown” which his father helped produce. When I spoke with Dweezil before the show, he mentioned that he rewrote the orchestrations from what he’d learned from his father’s music, something he also told the audience. It was maybe the most impressive thing the band played all night with the synchronization that had to happen between fast notes, rests, and delay on the guitar. They actually had to stop and start over again about 20 seconds in because of how fragile the timing is — it has to be perfect or it will be a trainwreck. Dweezil’s ability to write and perform music that rivals his dad’s in both composition and difficulty was a true measure of the moniker of this tour.
After a long and loud call for an encore (presumably giving the band a moment to gather themselves after playing for almost two hours straight), the band came back out to play three more songs, “City of Tiny Lites,” “I’m The Slime,” and “Muffin Man” (with “Black Napkin” teases from Dweezil). For the set that preceded it, I'm not sure if there could’ve been a better song selection for the encore. While there were some songs left on the table that I'm sure people would’ve liked to hear, that’ll happen when there are over 300 to choose from, not including the many different versions and variations from live shows over three decades. These three songs allowed the band to vamp a bit more and groove after playing some insanely difficult pieces throughout the night. They sent the crowd home with high energy, rocking tunes that left the place buzzier than they found it.
If that wasn’t enough, Dweezil made himself available almost immediately at the conclusion of the encore at the stage for photos, autographs, and pleasantries — after playing some of the most difficult rock music ever written for hours — all with a smile on his face. You might not find a more humble, dedicated human to the fans and anyone else interested in what he’s doing. I was even able to connect with him in person after having spoken to him on the phone, and after we exchanged some pleasantries, one of the first things he asked me was, “Now you got to see everything we talked about in action, what did you think?” Somehow holding it together, the little kid in me came out and all I could muster in that moment was, “It was incredible.” It truly was.
