[Weasels Ripped My Flesh is another] nifty collection of music inspired by Frank Zappa's pre-occupation with Edgar Varese, death, bopping and jacking off.

Once I thought that Zappa and his group might be the saviors of pop music. Now after all the music that they've produced since their Suzie Creemcheese period I'm not sure that I don't still feel much the same. This random collection of editing room snippets recorded at Mothers concerts over the last few years finds the group peerless in the field of amalgamating satire, musical adventuresomeness, and flash….

It's all here: more assaults on the calibrated sexuality of early rock, and jousts at the pomposity which musical avant-guardism has traditionally engendered. Held together with Zappa's Spike Jones-ish bag of tricks and the Mothers' usual impressive control over electronic technology….

At the very least this must be one of the most impressive collections of out-takes...