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Shining A Light On Beefheart In 1972: The Spotlight Kid Takes The Stage

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Captain Beefheart The Spotlight Kid web 730 optimised

After the one-two punch of the epochal Trout Mask Replica and barely less outré Lick My Decals Off, Baby, Captain Beefheart got loosey-goosey with 1972’s The Spotlight Kid: an undoubted attempt to shore up sales… albeit one that adhered to the definition of “commercially minded” tucked away inside the good Captain’s zig-zag brainbox.

Captain Beefheart Spotlight Kid LabelPerhaps attempting to woo wary listeners who thought his earlier wanderings were the wayward work of his Magic Band, The Spotlight Kid is the only Beefheart album credited solely to the man himself. But make no mistake: it might see the Captain adhere more closely to the blues template for the first time since 1968’s Strictly Personal, with simpler song structures that settle into a low-down groove, but the presence of Magic Band members John “Drumbo” French, Zoot Horn Rollo, Rockette Morton and Ed Marimba is keenly felt – not least in the latter’s spectral marimba, which creeps in and out of the background like a jittery ghost. Elsewhere, ‘Click Clack’ fully approximates the sound of a train steaming along the railroad; as on ‘Electricity’ before it, Beefheart and co alchemise the exact audio imagery suggested by the song’s title.

And then there’s the small matter of Beefheart’s sole attempt at a Christmas song, ‘There Ain’t No Santa Claus On The Evenin’ Stage’, with chain-gang sleigh bells and Van Vliet’s guttural “ho ho ho” more fitting befitting the funeral procession for a man whose “fingers broken ’n his heart ’n back forgotten” than they are any seasonal outings.

Beefheart is in playfully lascivious mood throughout the album – perhaps too much so for mainstream ears. Opener ‘I’m Gonna Booglarize You Baby’ comes off as simultaneously seductive and threatening, setting the scene for ‘White Jam’, in which a nameless female brings him said sticky preserve “in the night when I’m full”. Later on the album, when she’s “got juice on [her] chin” and her tail’s “draggin’ the gravy”, the Captain simply declares his intention to ‘Grow Fins’, returning to the high seas to “take up with a mermaid”.

While The Spotlight Kid hardly put the his name in lights (though its sleeve, with Beefheart haloed in yellow, delivered a nice visual pun), it did take him into the US Billboard Top 200 for the first time, reaching No.131 – his highest ever Stateside chart placing. (Released in January 1972, it peaked at No.44 in the UK, Beefheart’s last chart entry on those shores.) Ultimately, though, Joe Public wasn’t fooled. And The Magic Band were back on the marquee for the follow-up, Clear Spot – less a palette-cleanser than it was the next stage in Don Van Vliet’s increasing attempts to start making money after five years in the wilderness.

5 Comments

5 Comments

  1. Michael Nieradka

    January 8, 2016 at 12:24 pm

    Everyone needs to discover Captain Beefheart

  2. Joe

    January 8, 2016 at 4:18 pm

    Still got my vinyl copy of this. Saw him live twice in 1972 when he was touring this album. An amazing experience!

  3. grahame

    August 19, 2016 at 2:22 pm

    No such thing as a totally bad beefheart album (even the virgin ones have some charm). But this is a stodgy affair. Some great songs, not least the wonderful Click Clack, but a god awful production job that takes whatever dynamism the band has and neuters it.
    I’ve heard some of the practice sessions, and band only tracks on you Tube…and you realise that this could have been a great album with a strong producer. In fact just what happened on Clear Spot
    A missed opportunity …..

  4. Frank Woods

    December 17, 2017 at 2:33 pm

    I still love it,my favorite. Beefheart. It has to be played loud on a good system!

  5. rekac

    January 31, 2018 at 8:26 pm

    magine yourself a recently widowed mother of two adult children. Your husband has been dead for 10 months now. Your son Adam, 22, lives 90 miles away with his wife. He rarely comes to visit, because he is so busy with work. In fact, you haven’t seen him since your husband’s funeral. Amy, 18, will be starting college next month on the West Coast, some 3,000 miles away. So, you’re a recently widowed 40-year-old woman who hasn’t been on a date since her husband’s death, and will soon be living in an empty house all by yourself.

    Your friends and family are afraid that being all alone in that big house, with the burden of your husband’s death still on your mind, would be nothing less than haunting and torturous. They are concerned for your safety; and given your past problems with depression, they have a right to be concerned.

    So, they convince you to go on a blind date. Your best friend, Cheryl, knows a wonderful guy at work, and she thinks you two will hit it off quite well. They assure you that they are in no way pressuring you to get married again or to replace Bob. They only want you to go out and have a good time, which you haven’t in 10 months.

    You go to meet your blind date in the middle of the afternoon. You turn the corner and bam! There is Captain Beefheart with his ruffled white shirt sticking out of the ends of his black tuxedo jacket, left arm leaning against a telephone pole, right hand charmingly tucked into his right pocket, hair carefully constructed and styled, his entire body surrounded by a heavenly, yellow glow.

    “My life starts right now,” you say to yourself.

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