For want of a drummer …That's why one of the most remarkable bands in the annals of Tampa Bay is packing it in after shows on Oct. 26 and 31. Bogus Pomp has been playing exclusively the music of Frank Zappa for eight years. Currently nine- members strong, the ensemble has built a book of nearly 70 songs by the late musician/composer, songs which represent some of the most difficult music in the rock canon.
A guitarist, two keyboardists, bassist, percussion/marimba player, saxophonist, trumpeter, trombonist — all of them locked in and capable of navigating Zappa's labyrinthine parts. The drummer, John Citrone, lives in Jacksonville. He's tired of the commute.
"The drummer has probably the most difficult job," says Bogus Pomp bassist Alex Pasut.
The drummer shapes the ensemble's rhythmic character. The drummer must strut through Zappa's weird phrasings and odd time signatures with absolute authority.
"We've checked out a lot of drummers and every one we give a CD and say, "Can you play this?'" Pasut says. "Most of them have turned pale white. "No, I can't play this.' We had one guy who thought he could (sight) read it all, but we don't have charts for the drums. We said, "Try to figure it out.' He said, "It would take me a hundred years to do this.'"
Drumming for Bogus Pomp is not built on chops and good intentions. You pretty much have to be like all the other guys in band: a Zappa freak.
It gets a bit maniacal, really. Bogus Pomp stitches together different renditions of Zappa songs. For instance, they perform a medley of sorts called "Cleveland," which consists of the "Let's Move to Cleveland" theme, 1984 version, followed by the "Lumpy Gravy" melody from the '88 band, into a combination of the '74 and '88 versions of the "Orange County Lumber Truck" theme, then back into "Let's Move to Cleveland."
"The real hardcores will notice," says guitarist/singer Jerry Outlaw. "I had a guy who said to me after a gig, "I saw you threw some of the '78 guitar solo into the '74 version.' I said, "Thanks, man, we play this shit for people like you.'"
On a muggy Saturday afternoon in Largo, eight members of Bogus Pomp pile into keyboardist Rick Olson's soundproofed garage for rehearsal. What little air conditioning there is soon surrenders to the cluster of bodies, amps and instruments. This is not your typical rock band practice. No beer, no dope, no cigarettes. Hardly any chatter. After tuning up and noodling for a few minutes, Bogus Pomp launches into "Zoot Allures," their customary concert opener, its grand melody resonating with merciful volume throughout the room. Even though most of the members have etched these cascades of notes into muscle memory, they must ensure that the parts interlock with ultimate precision. "You have people in a symphony orchestra who might play a complicated Stravinski piece and a lot of them are reading a chart, getting paid," Outlaw says. "The difference with Bogus Pomp is that each guy has 20 years or more of love and respect and total conviction for this music. Every time we play it we realize we have to put 100 percent into it. No one wants to hear you half-ass something that's sacred. If you can't do it 100 percent, do everyone a favor who likes the music and don't play it."
By now, Bogus Pomp has mastered the repertoire so well that they can freely add an extra dimension: The loony irreverence that was also a crucial component of Zappa's oeuvre. A BP show is not a bunch of purse-lipped musicians with faces buried in sheet music. These cats have a blast on stage.
Hanging on the studio wall is a dry eraser board scrawled with the set list. "The Black Page," "Dupree's Paradise," "Zomby Woof," Cosmic Debris," "Inca Roads," "Andy." More than 30 in all, many of which represent some of Zappa's most tricky material. Tune after tune gets a tune up, each segueing into the next. The ensemble breaks down only once: Citrone has a question about the number of drum accents in one part. As the set rolls on, the band loosens up. The methodical rehearsal has transformed into the kind of collective musical experience that keeps these guys coming back — for very little money.
During the summer of '94, the converted garage had a lot more elbow room. Two guys inhabited the space. Thirty-two-year-old Rick Olson had been playing keyboards in a smooth jazz duo with Lynn Lovett. Raised in Burlington, Vt., he moved to Florida in 1979, then spent four years in the Air Force. He's played guitar, bass, keyboards, harmonica and percussion professionally and has a penchant for exotic ethnic string instruments.
Guitarist Jerry Outlaw, then 29, had recently fled a shock-metal sideshow called The Genitorturers. He grew up a long-haired metal misfit in tiny Kinston, N.C. At 15, he traded a single-barrel, bolt-action shotgun for a cheap Global guitar, a Gibson SG copy.
Outlaw and Olson knew each other from the music scene and hanging insulation together. They shared a passion for Zappa. Just for fun and personal satisfaction, they got together to work out a few songs. A month or so later, a blurb about two guys playing Zappa in a garage appeared in Jam magazine and within days Alex Pasut showed up with a stack of music. Born in Italy, he put down his instrument for two decades while working in the corporate world in Canada, Massachusetts and New Jersey. After a divorce, he moved to Florida in '92 and began to dabble in music again. Then he joined BP and got serious.
The trio worked some with a beat box, but it soon became apparent that the project wouldn't fly without a drummer. They thought of Tom McCowan, a fellow Zappa-phile. "Tom was a good rock "n' roll drummer," Outlaw says. "Not to the level of the later guys, but we started pretty basic."
The quartet coined themselves Bogus Pomp, after one of Zappa's orchestral pieces and hustled to work up an hour of material by Halloween. They debuted at Mr. Joe's Lounge on Madeira Beach, opening for Deloris Telescope.
A surprisingly large group of Zappa nuts turned out and cheered long and hard.
From there, BP moved on a sharp upward trajectory. Olson put a flier on the bulletin board at St. Petersburg Junior College. Instructor/trombonist David Manson was intrigued. Boom. Horn section. Top area saxophonist David Pate came on a short while later. The horn men knew David Coash, a percussionist with The Florida Orchestra. He nailed down the marimba parts crucial to Zappa's unique ensemble sound.
"Bringing Coash in was crucial," Outlaw says. "He was able to break down some of the most difficult pieces and explain them in simpler language. He would be like "OK, count one and two and three and one and', that sort of thing, explained in the most basic terms."
Four drummers came and went before Citrone.
"Wouldn't it be great if …?" As BP progressed, Outlaw, Olson, Pasut and the rest would fantasize, fill in the blank — and then make it happen.
Wouldn't it be great if … we could play bigger shows on Halloween at places like Jannus Landing and the State Theatre? It happened. Zappaween 8 happens on Saturday at the State.
Wouldn't it be great if … we could share a stage with the Florida Orchestra and do an evening of all Zappa music?
Improbably, it happened. Twice. On Jan. 16, 1999, conductor Thomas Wilkins led the orchestra through Zappa symphonic pieces "Dog Breath Variations" and "Uncle Meat." The 80-plus ensemble was then joined by Bogus Pomp for "Strictly Genteel" and "Uncle Meat Reprise." The Zappa tribute band finished the night with a long set of its own. The collaboration happened again the following year. Those concerts represented cultural high watermarks for Tampa Bay during the period. That a rock ensemble could naively approach the orchestra about collaborating in such an ambitious way and then see it all come to perfect fruition is nothing short of remarkable.
Wouldn't it be great if … we could get former Zappa bandmate Ike Willis to play with us? It happened. Singer/guitarist Willis, who was with Zappa from 1978- 1988, has guested with Bogus Pomp on several occasions.
Wouldn't it be even greater if we could get Napolean Murphy Brock? The saxophonist/singer was with Zappa for a good part of the '70s, a member of his most lauded bands. After discovering Brock's e-mail address, Outlaw sent him a heartfelt note. The Zappa alum, a bit incredulous at first, requested a CD and video. "I was blown away," Brock says. "They play the music so well."
Internationally, there's quite a legion of bands dedicated to playing Zappa music. "I haven't found anyone who does it better than them," Brock says. "I'm traveling with (another Zappa tribute band) Project Object out of the New York/New Jersey area. They're really good, too, but some of the songs that Bogus Pomp plays are a little more advanced than these guys have accomplished yet. There are only two ways to play this music: correctly or incorrectly."
Wouldn't it be great if … Bogus Pomp could find a damn drummer? The group's ardent coterie of fans certainly feels that way. So does, of course, the band. But the search has been going on a couple of years and a match has not been made.
Yet there's a suspicion that October might not spell the end of Bogus Pomp. Not if Pasut has his way. The bassist is the main proponent of keeping the band alive, of continuing to seek out a qualified stickman. "I understand Jerry's frustration with the drummer situation," he says. "I share it. The only disagreement we have is that I don't think we need to make a final announcement."
As for Olson's view: "We have a worldwide audience. Rather than it being "whatever happened to those guys?' I want to go out as we planned it; we had a full career and decided to close it down."
Besides, Olson concedes, you can always unretire. (See Michael Jordan. Celine Dion.)
Outlaw concedes that Bogus Pomp might play a Zappa festival in Germany next spring but feels that the book is most likely closed beyond that.
Pasut and others wonder if Outlaw will be able to withstand cold turkey withdrawal from performing Zappa music. "He'll get itchy fingers," Pasut says. "I'm betting he'll want to do this again."
This article appears in Oct 23-29, 2002.
