Goblin Girl

Frank Zappa

Hey Zoo Freaks, it's your harvest-hued Zoo Crew rustling in from the leaf-strewn lanes of THE ZOO, where the jack-o'-lanterns flicker like fireflies in the gloaming and the wind carries whispers from the wild wood. We're conjuring Frank Zappa's "Goblin Girl" from the satirical swirl of You Are What You Is, and man, this one's a wicked wink at the witching hour, all wrapped in doo-wop doings and double entendres that'll make you chuckle under the full moon. Zappa, that mustache-twirling maestro of the absurd, penned it as his one and only nod to Halloween—dropped in '81 amid his takedowns of yuppies and cults—but true to form, it's less trick-or-treat and more treat-or-trick, with lines like "She's a Goblin Girl an' she can gobble it all" that fans on Reddit still howl over as the filthiest pun in his playbook. In a classic ObscureMedia thread, one devotee quipped it's "Zappa's goblin doing the goblin," while another confessed snagging the picture disc single with "Pink Napkins" on the flip back in '81, a merch-table treasure from their third show that still spins like a spell. Over on X, folks are tossing it into Halloween playlists left and right—one post from last Samhain calling it the "ultimate earworm for end-times bashes," another pairing it with a grainy YouTube clip where Frank leads the band in a hob-noblin chant, horns honking like happy haunts. And get this: in his liner-note lore, Zappa slips in a "TRICK OR TREAT NOW" fade that loops into "Doreen," turning the whole side into a costume-ball conga line of the bizarre. It's Zappa at his cheekiest, Zoo Freaks—honey-dipped heresy for the holiday heart.

Now let's saunter back to the sun-scorched sands of Southern California where a kid with a chemistry-set soul first fiddled with the forbidden fruits of sound, 'cause Frank Zappa didn't just pick up the guitar—he wrestled it like a comet tail, born in '40 to a defense-industry dad in Baltimore but bouncing through six high schools like a pinball in a fever dream. Little Frankie was knee-deep in avant-garde tapes by twelve—Edgard Varèse's shrieks and Pierre Schaeffer's bumps scratching his skull like chalk on a blackboard—while his old man warned of mustard gas masks and his mum spun doo-wop dreams. By Antelope Valley High in '55, he's banging drums in the racially mixed Blackouts with future Mother Motorhead Sherwood, but gets the boot for clanging cymbals too wild; switches to guitar at eighteen, devouring Howlin' Wolf howls and Johnny "Guitar" Watson wails till his fingers bleed. Drops out of junior college after a whirlwind wedding to Kay Sherman—divorced quick as a spark—then hustles as a window dresser and door-knocking peddler of tomes, but the real gig gold? Scoring gritty B-flicks like The World's Greatest Sinner in '62, pocketing enough to buy a Studio Z tape machine in Cucamonga, where he cooks up Beefheart's debut and gets ten days in the clink for a "porn" tape that was just a door squeak. Ray Collins ropes him into the Soul Giants in '64, Frank flips the script to originals, renames 'em the Mothers (bowdlerized to Invention by Verve suits), and unleashes Freak Out! in '66—the first double rock album, a psychedelic broadside that blasts the squares. From desert dives to cultural quake, Zappa built his empire on sheer sonic sorcery, proving one man's weird was the world's wonder.

If the goblin's got your goat, Zoo Freaks, scamper over to the official Frank Zappa site for vault visions, reissue revelations, and that fresh Halloween '78 box that'll rattle your rafters. Swing by the Facebook page where over 700k freaks swap bootlegs and Beefheart banter, a digital dojo for the devoted. Peek the prog on Instagram for archival oddities and orchestral odes, or riff on the rapid-fire at @zappa on X, where the trust drops deadpan dispatches amid fan-forged fire. For your tribe, the Zappa Wiki Jawaka is a crypt of collector confessions and timeline treasures, while r/Zappa subreddit brews bootleg brews with 50k souls. Unearth gems at FrankZappaFan.com, a fan shrine stacked with solo scoops, or join the Frank Zappa Fans group for global gabfests and gig ghosts. Light the black flame, crank the contraption, and let's gobble the gloom till the gremlins grin, my midnight minstrels.


 

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