“Dental Hygiene Dilemma”

Thanks to the generous social programs in my fair city, I recently got my teeth fixed, ending over a decade of busted-molar jokes and references in my work. In essence, I no longer feel like I have a mouthful of bloody razors. Once everything healed up, I couldn’t believe how much better I felt overall. Not that I consider myself a lion, but I couldn’t keep from thinking of that old fable with the thorn in the paw. Now I can chew food with my entire mouth, instead of just a small section, gingerly. It’s the little things in life.

If your teeth don’t hurt, or you have easy access to a dentist, thank your lucky stars. I’ll let you in on a little secret; us artists are merely holding on to whatever choppers we can before we croak. There is no “insurance” or “healthcare” for us; it does not exist. These are the breaks. If you want security, you go into insurance. Not drawing cartoons.

Unless, you know, you sell out, to a company.

That’s the goal, isn’t it? Instead of doodling on your little website here, you could be working for Cartoon Network, you know, something small, for the insurance, pick up a check, get your teeth fixed. What’s the harm in that? Then, later on, you could do your own thing, whatever that is.

This is the DENTAL HYGIENE DILEMMA.

Why not sell out? Your teeth are throbbing in agony, all the time. That last abscess almost killed you. What are you gonna do, pop Advils forever? Look at that guy over there; he makes it seem so easy. Think of all the important people you could meet. Everyone’s gotta start somewhere.

Frank Zappa had horrible ghoulie teeth. Despite this, he sired four beautiful kids with his beautiful wife, and banged a parade of groupies at the same time. He turned his ugly teeth into a badge of honor and victory. I guarantee there were times during recording when one of the Mothers of Invention would gripe about dental pain, and Frank would say “you think your teeth hurt, motherfucker? Take a gander at mine. Or look at Don over there. Join the club.”

Teeth were a recurring theme throughout much of Zappa’s work. He discusses his in The Real Frank Zappa Book, and his childhood dentist, “the nefarious Dr. Rocca.” Zappa claims he would have been sensational as an evil monk in Umberto Eco’s The Name of the Rose. Dr. Rocca used an ancient drill that had to be foot-pumped, and made a vdnn-vdnn sound; the same sound Greggery Peccary’s little car makes in “The Adventures of Greggery Peccary”, on Läther. Zappa’s 1969 double album Uncle Meat has a grill being inspected right on the cover:

The inside liners even have X-rays of the band member’s teeth, so I bet Herb Cohen worked out some kind of deal where the Mothers got ship-shape choppers so they could play. The only guy in the band minding his nutrition was Don Preston, and he’s alive today. Zappa was on a coffee and cigs diet.

In Zappa’s 1971 surrealist documentary 200 Motels, there is an animated interlude entitled “Dental Hygiene Dilemma”.

In it, a character representing Jeff Simmons is fucked up on something, alone in another nameless motel. He hears the voices of his Good and Bad Conscience, performed by the Turtles, Mark Volman and Howard Kaylan. If you’re not into Zappa, it can really scare the shit out of you.

[Bad Conscience] Han min noon toon han toon han

[Good Conscience] No, Jeff…

[Bad] Han toon ran toon ran toon fran min han toon ran toon nan toon fram
[Good] NO NO NO!

[Jeff] Man, this stuff is great! It’s just as if Donovan himself had appeared on my very own TV with words of peace, love, and eternal cosmic wisdom . . . ! Leading me. Guiding me. On paths of everlasting pseudo-karmic negligence, in the very midst of my drug-induced nocturnal emission!

[Good] Oh, I am your good conscience, Jeff. I know all. I see all. I am a cosmic love pulse matrix, becoming a technicolor interpositive!

Jeff compliments the Good Conscience on his “hip” incense, which is “the same mysterious exotic oriental fragrance as what the Beatles get off on.” The mood is undoubtedly that of a bloodshot buzz at four a.m., in a stranger’s room. I’m reasonably certain that Volman is the Good Conscience, and Turtles bassist Jim Pons is the Bad. I think Kaylan is Jeff. Don’t quote me on it.

[Good] Yes, Jeff, I am your guiding light. Listen to me. Don’t rip off the towels, Jeff!

Theft and destructive behavior in lodging were obligatory in 1970s rock-and-roll. Keith Moon had set the standard for making hotel personnel suicidal. The low end of that idiom is swiping the towels, which is almost expected. The cleaning staff assumes you had to wipe something up, privately. Then of course there’s the Led Zeppelin end of the spectrum, and its varying sea life.

So here’s a little proof that I’m a true rebel- I’m stealing the towels! See? I’m no sellout! Take that, innkeeper!

Despite the Good Conscience’s pleadings, Jeff begins to listen to the Bad, who tells him exactly what he wants to hear.

[Bad] Why are you wasting your life, night after night playing this comedy music?
[Jeff] You’re right, I’m too heavy to be in this group.
[Bad] Comedy music…
[Good] Jeff, your SOUL!

You know how many times people asked Jeff Simmons that question? Enough to make him quit the Mothers of Invention. In the middle of the production of 200 Motels. Of which he was the star.

Listen to how the Bad Conscience locks Jeff into a clipped cadence on the following passage, magnifying his internal tension, and reducing his expressiveness:

[Jeff] In this group, all I ever get to do is play Zappa’s comedy music. HE EATS!
[Good] Jeff!
[Jeff] I get so tense!
[Bad] Of course you do my boy!
[Jeff] The stuff he makes me do is always off the wall!
[Bad] That’s why it would be best to leave his stern employ!
[Jeff] AND QUIT THE GROUP!
[Bad] You’ll make it big!
[Jeff] That’s right!
[Bad] Of course!
[Jeff] AND THEN I WON’T BE SMALL!

Jeff rolls up the bathmat and smokes it like a joint, foreshadowing the high school diploma from Roxy & Elsewhere. He begins to rant and ramble, until his face and hair dissolve, revealing the head of a sucker. A sucker like any other.

[Bad] This is the real you, Jeff. Rip off a few more ashtrays. Get rid of some of that inner tension. Quit the comedy group! Get your own group together. Heavy! Like GRAND FUNK! Or BLACK SABBATH…
[Good] No, Jeff…
[Jeff] Or COVEN*!!!
[Good] Peace… love…
[Bad] Bollocks. 

*Coven is the group that did “One Tin Soldier”, the theme from Billy Jack, with vocalist Jinx Dawson. They’re the “cool Satanists” no one ever tells you about.

Jeff imbibes a strange, phantasmagorical beer, which opens the “What Can I Say About This Elixir?” suite. My theory is that this was one of those phrases a band member spontaneously said, everyone laughed, it became a song lyric, and everyone gets snippy about proper credit. You think I’m joking? Then you’ve never heard The True Story of 200 Motels. That’s on Zappa’s Playground Psychotics, which is something Jeff Simmons spontaneously said in a taxicab.

The cartoon Jeff Simmons proceeds to go bonkers, leaving Mark Volman to drop his disguise.

[Good] He should have never have used the elixir and only stuck to the incense. Oh, Atlantis…
[Mark Volman] That was BILLY THE MOUNTAIN, dressed up like Donovan, fading out on the wall-mounted TV screen. Jeff IS flipping out. Road fatigue! We’ve got to get him back to normal before Zappa finds out, and steals it, and makes him do it in the movie!
[Bad] You have a brilliant career ahead of you, my boy, Just GET OUT OF THIS GROUP!
[Mark] Howard- that was Studebacher Hoch, dressed up like Jim Pons, giving career guidance to the bass player of a rock-oriented comedy group. Jeff’s imagination has gone beyond the fringe of audience comprehension!

This is a solid allegory for the mania that results from the Dental Hygiene Dilemma. It’s part of life as an artist. We all have to eat, and if you think you have control of your life, wait until something inside you threatens that. It could be a rotten tooth, or a sense that you can do better for yourself than society wants. Society lets artists die, because what artists provide is less tangible than money. You can’t gauge enlightenment, you can only observe its influence in retrospect.

You won’t know for sure until it’s too late. Was Jeff Simmons justified in leaving Zappa’s group for greener pastures, let’s say Blood Sweat & Tears, or John Mayall and his Bluesbreakers? Was he better off not appearing as himself in 200 Motels, as his lady advised?

You tell me. How many big Jeff Simmons fans do you know?