Captain Beefheart's 70th Birthday: "If You Got Ears, You Gotta Listen"

The other day I was eating a donut and reading the newspaper at a local shopping centre, when I noticed the date, 15th January, at the top of the page. I instantly remembered that it would have been the 70th birthday of perhaps my biggest musical hero, Captain Beefheart, had he not passed away last month (aged 69 , funnily enough...).

Normally a Saturday donut saves me from mundane human feelings like "sadness", but I must admit I felt a tinge of this human emotion in my heart as I recalled the passing of Beefheart (AKA Don Van Vliet) - a man who released his last album in 1982 and then drifted off quietly into the world of abstract painting.

He struggled to make a buck in his 15 active years in the music business but he did drop his opus, Trout Mask Replica, on us in 1969.

It's an album that divides people. There is no middle ground with this record - you either love it or absolutely can't stand it. It's got elements of raw delta blues, avant-garde jazz, spontaneous soprano sax freak-outs, field recordings, poetry recitals and sea shanties, all rolled together in a 2-LP set, produced by friend and occasional nemesis Frank Zappa.

Trout Mask Replica (1969)

There's nothing else like it in the history of popular music, and if I was (un)lucky enough to spend my remaining days as a castaway on some remote foreign shore, with naught but a vintage 2004-model iPod or mp3 player capable of storing 28 songs only, then this is what I would listen to - endlessly trying to piece together an understanding of the chaotic time signatures, and wondering why the hell all the musicians seem to be trying their hardest to play something completely different to the other members of the band.

But it WORKS dammit!!! And Beefheart's voice is the cherry on top. As the man said himself: "If you got ears, you gotta listen".  Check it out. Love it or hate it, it's worth the experience.

So as we enter a new decade, seemingly hell-bent on indulging the fantasies of a continuous conga-line of talentless Australian/American Idol posers, spare a thought for those lesser known artists who gave something original and thought-provoking to their audience. Beefheart must have known he'd never become a millionaire (or even "popular") putting out albums like this, but the man was committed to his vision - however bizarre it appeared to the rest of the world.

So hat's off to you Captain. May you rest in peace, and let's hope that those with ears find them and put them to good use.

And while we're on the subject of being committed to your vision, I think its time for another donut.