Frank Zappa, interview with his daughter Moon Unit

Moon Unit Zappa, one of Frank and Gail’s children (the others are Dweezil, Ahmet and Diva), published an autobiography some time ago entitled “Earth to moon” (translated into Italian with the title “earth calls moon”). Moon Unit had a moment of fame in 1982, at the age of 14, when she contributed spoken word to her father’s song “Valley Girl,” included on the album “Ship Arriving Too Late to Save a Drowning Witch.”

I had the opportunity to interview her via email.

What questions have you been asked most frequently?

There are three questions I’ve been asked my whole life: 1. “What was it like growing up with Frank Zappa as a father?” (“That must have been crazy!”) 2. “What’s your brother’s name, Star?” (“Get it? Moon and Star?”) and 3. “Now that your father is dead, would you ever write a book about your life?”

My standard response to question number one is, “Yes, it was crazy, but not in the way you might think.” And to question number two my standard response is, “Yes, I understand. Good question” (followed by a sigh). The third question has always been the most difficult. Yes, of course, I wanted to write about how I grew up in the shadow of an icon, but my mother Gail was still alive and I always felt that Gail should tell her story. She loved his music, shared his jokes, and was an adult who experienced it all with him and handled everything for him. I always thought Gail was an artist with untapped talents, but without courage and support, as all her time and energy was devoted to raising four children and toiling away as Frank’s manager, driver, chef, waitress, secretary, etc., etc., so that my father could work without distractions.

A deeper truth was that Gail had been extremely competitive with me since my partnership with Frank. I accidentally gained exposure, success, and fame, so I didn’t want to start another war by attracting even more attention for my connection to my father. If I had written my book before Gail died, it probably would have been an essay about unconventional parenting or Zappa family values or the 12 things I learned growing up in an eccentric family – that kind of thing… but when Gail died, leaving all of Frank’s intellectual property to my two younger brothers who I helped raise, and said that Dweezil and I could never have anything to do with our father’s legacy and any decisions about it, I had to reevaluate the whole my life and make sense of what “family” meant, what “loyalty” meant, what my time and contribution meant… I had to revisit my life completely, dig in and rebuild everything from scratch. It doesn’t escape me that the word “zappa” in Italian means “tool to dig with”, and that’s exactly what I did.

Ultimately, my research was: Does genius justify the collateral damage it causes to a family? This is just one of the things I would like those who read my book to reflect on.

What are the others?

The definitions of family, fame, loyalty, success, support, struggle, connection, empathy, intimacy, infidelity, forgiveness, selfishness, contempt, dysfunction, hedonism, legacy, neglect… and anything else readers might consider as they read my memoir. I thought: My God, if I’m struggling to process my experience of being blindsided by an exquisitely deranged betrayal, then what’s a person without resources and understanding to do to recover? I had no idea that your own mother could wish you harm and eternal rejection. Especially as a parent! I knew I could be a cautionary example.

Or I could be an example to myself and my son – my real family, a family of two, and say: No! We never give up, we get back up no matter what. I think it was Bruce Lee who said, “Fall seven times, get up eight.”

The crazy thing about growing up in Hollywood, California, is that I was constantly exposed to deathbed confessions and apologies in movies and on television. I was really hoping for deathbed revelations from both Gail and Frank, since you only get one chance to say your last word.

You must have kept a lot out of the book, how did you choose what to keep in?

At first, pain, confusion and anger overwhelmed me. I gave myself permission to write a very gut-wrenching, “fuck you endlessly forever” first draft of 250,000 words just for me (and my poor editor). That frenetic gift I gave myself, the fury of the first reaction, paved the way for my deepest and best nature, and the ability to put myself on the line. My goal became to write my book as neutrally as possible, to stick to events and facts, a bit like a police report. I’ve had all my diaries since I was five, and I’ve been researching my father’s touring schedule and its impact on the entire family. I was hunting for clues: had there been early signs of resentment, misunderstanding and mistrust that I had missed? Could it be my words or actions that contributed to that bizarre hereditary rift? A writer friend said to me, “Press the bruise.” He meant: find every turning point in your life and upbringing, events and moments where you were one way before an accident and another way after. I turned this list into a linear timeline. This helped me concentrate. I was able to see what I was trying to tell myself. This timeline became the backbone of my story and it became clear what to discard and what to keep. Now that I saw the patterns in my life, I knew how and when I wanted my story to end.

Was it cathartic to write the book?

I thought so. I thought that once I got it all down and out of my head, it would be like unblocking a sewer, and I would be free. I had been stuck in pain, in anger, in depression for so long that I thought it would all dissolve like fog and I would be free instantly. But what actually happened was that the past was finally over, and now I could begin grieving and healing. I felt like one of those animals chased by cheetahs and hyenas who narrowly escapes death and then trembles uncontrollably once safe. Like a trembling impala trying to reset its nervous system.

The other crazy thing that happened is that when people come to my public readings they tell me they feel angry at me. This feedback shocked me because in their eyes I saw that my experiences were much worse than I thought. When you live your life, you simply put one foot in front of the other to overcome difficulties. This mirroring in strangers helped me get to the underlying pain that lies behind ordinary sadness. His reflections also helped me have even more understanding for myself, my siblings, Frank and Gail.

Speaking of understanding, it seems like you showed more understanding for Frank than for Gail in your book. Why?

I guess it’s because Frank was much more transparent about who he was. I knew I would never have a “normal” father or a present father. I mean, I knew the routine: he went on tour almost every year and was gone for 6-9 months when he traveled. When he was home he slept all day and worked at night, so I rarely saw him, certainly not consistently. I longed for those moments because Frank was extremely funny and made you feel like the most important person in the world when he paid attention to you. And he never raised his voice. Never. In many ways it was easier to accept. It’s easier not to rely on it. Gail, on the other hand, kept saying she did everything for us. But there was hypocrisy in his care. At times she was loving, then maniacally overindulgent in eating, spending and screaming. I knew that the root of her anger and attempts at control was the fact that Frank cheated on her and never said to her, “Thank you Gail, because of you and everything you do behind the scenes I have unlimited freedom.” The freedom and support were never reciprocated. Instead, Gail found herself dealing with the daily struggle of essentially being a single mother of four with fluctuating money and resources. Somehow she managed to manage all of this, and in doing so, she delivered a very confusing and very erratic message of “love” towards what she said she cared about most, and at a high decibel volume. I learned to accept Gail’s angry outbursts as a way of speaking up. Frank and Gail were both generous and intolerant in different ways. There was a lot of predictable unpredictability in my house.

But it’s not about blaming anyone, it would be a waste of time because we would have to go back and go back and blame every previous generation. For me, healing is about being rigorously honest and naming what hurts. I think that’s why many people identify with my story: even if the details are different, the dysfunction is universal. My hope is that I have set a bit of an example for other people, so that they too can free themselves from any unpleasant stories.

Isn’t it difficult to reveal so much publicly? Tell yourself the truth?

It’s harder not to tell yourself the truth. For me, at least.

They say that hurt people hurt other people, but that’s not true. Hurt people don’t want others to suffer because they know how terrible it is.

By the way, my book is full of humor. I definitely inherited my humorous worldview from Frank. I hope I made up for the sadness with lots of funny stories about really stupid things I did to get out of the tunnel. I grew up in a drug and alcohol free home. So there is no one to blame for my idiocy but myself and the bad wiring of my mind. Luckily, I inherited Gail’s pit bull tenacity, stamina, and military attention to detail. I leave no stone unturned when I commit to something, whether it’s a person, a physical exercise, or an epic creative undertaking, like writing a book.

What are you working on now?

I’d like to try fiction. Nonfiction is pretty easy because you just have to find a compelling way to tell what happened, whereas fiction focuses more on what’s really on your mind, which to me is much scarier. You have to really trust your muse and step aside to get a first draft down. I must learn to trust the intricacies of my subconscious and my unconscious and to play in the field of creativity. Writing should come with a warning: it is mysterious and transformative, and, as in life, you will grow and perhaps not get where you thought.