Frank Zappa - Catholic Girls

Plaid Skirts, Rosaries, and Rock 'n' Roll

Catholic Girls is the kind of song that thrives on chaos, and for me as a 17-year-old boy with a rapidly developing sense of humor — equal parts puerile and profound — it’s nothing short of a demented comedic revelation. The track appears on Zappa’s 1979 album Joe’s Garage, a rock opera that’s essentially an absurdist take on authoritarianism, censorship, and, naturally, sex. ← All of that is another way to say I didn’t understand it in totality, but for someone encountering this song for the first time at the volatile intersection of adolescence and rebellion, the societal critiques are secondary to the spectacle.

Zappa’s a musical genius. That’s not up for debate. He’s revered as a composer, respected as a guitarist, and admired for his intellectual rigor. He’s the guy your dad calls “weird but brilliant” and your music teacher quietly adores but doesn’t mention in polite company. For all intents and purposes, Zappa is the avant-garde uncle of rock and roll, the one who brings his own wine to Thanksgiving and casually name-drops Stravinsky while lecturing you on the evils of Top 40 radio. But none of that matters to a teenager encountering Catholic Girls for the first time.

At 17, my world was a mixture of earnest ideals and hormone-fueled anarchy. Every emotion felt seismic, every joke felt either lame or transcendent, and every new piece of music had the potential to become a cornerstone of my personal mythology. Enter Catholic Girls. From the moment Zappa’s nasally voice mocks, “Catholic girls, with a tiny little mustache,” I realized this is not a song written to win Grammys or placate critics. It’s a song written to provoke, to entertain, and to be unapologetically stupid in the smartest way possible. It’s also an exercise in equal opportunity: Catholic Girls was a response to those offended by the Sheik Yerbouti track Jewish Princess. Zappa reiterated that all may be skewered equally.

The brilliance of Catholic Girls lies in its absurdity. Zappa isn’t merely cracking jokes — he’s building an entire world of exaggerated tropes and caricatures. The Catholic schoolgirls in question are equal parts innocent and corrupted, existing in a realm where their plaid skirts and rosaries serve as punchlines. The lyrics are irreverent, juvenile, and vaguely offensive in the way that all great comedy is when it dares to acknowledge the awkward collision of sex, religion, and adolescence.

Hip-Hip-Hooray
For all the class they show
There's nothing like a Catholic Girl
At the CYO
When they learn to blow
They're learning to blow
All the Catholic Boys!

For a teenage boy, this is the comedic equivalent of a fireworks display. Here is a song that’s saying the quiet part out loud, that’s poking fun at institutions and archetypes you’ve grown up with but never dared to question. Maybe you went to Catholic school, or maybe you just grew up adjacent to the mythology. Either way, Catholic Girls feels like a rite of passage. It’s an initiation into a secret club where the only requirement is a willingness to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Musically, the song is vintage Zappa. It’s tight, intricate, and deceptively complex, with layered instrumentation and a rhythm that feels playful yet precise. Zappa’s band — as always — is impeccable, delivering a performance that’s equal parts satire and virtuosity. But again, at 17, I was not analyzing the time signatures or marveling at the guitar work. I was too busy laughing at the lyrics and wondering how anyone could get away with writing a song like this.

Right away, that's the way they go
Every day, whenever their mamas take them to a show
Matinee, pass the popcorn, please
There's nothing like a Catholic girl
With her hand in the box when she's on her knees
She was on her knees
My little catholic girls (In a little white dress)

There’s also something deeply liberating about Zappa’s willingness to be silly. At an age when I was hyper-aware of how I presented myself to the world, when every joke and opinion feels like a potential minefield, this song is gleefully ridiculous. It’s a reminder that not everything has to be serious, that it’s okay to embrace nonsense for the sake of entertainment. In fact, Catholic Girls feels like a direct challenge to the very concept of “cool.” It’s a song that’s uncool in the coolest way possible, a paradox that only someone like Zappa could pull off.

At the same time, there’s an underlying complexity to the humor. Of course the thing is juvenile, but it’s also a satire of repression and hypocrisy. Zappa isn’t just making fun of Catholic schoolgirls; he’s skewering the entire institution that fetishizes innocence while simultaneously imposing guilt. For a teenager, this is revelatory. It’s the musical equivalent of finding out Santa Claus isn’t real or discovering that your parents don’t actually know everything. It’s a moment of clarity wrapped in a three-minute joke.

Listening to Catholic Girls for the first time feels like a door opening. It’s a gateway to Zappa’s larger body of work, sure, but it’s also an introduction to the idea that music can be more than just sound. It can be a statement, a satire, a punchline, and a cultural artifact all at once. For a 17-year-old, this is nothing short of mind-blowing. I was familiar with songs about love and heartbreak, maybe even rebellion, but this track took aim at the absurdity of life itself.

Years later, last week in fact, I revisited Catholic Girls and appreciated it on a different level. I was in awe at the craftsmanship, the daring, and the sheer audacity of it all. I definitely recognized the brilliance in Zappa’s ability to make something so silly yet so pointed. But no matter how much I grow or how sophisticated I think my tastes have become, I’ll always remember hearing it for the first time. I’ll remember the laughter, the shock, and the feeling that, for a few minutes, someone was speaking directly to my chaotic, hormone-addled teenage brain.

And that’s the thing about Zappa. He’s complicated, intellectual, and revered, but he’s also deeply human. He understands that humor and music aren’t mutually exclusive, that sometimes the best way to make a point is to make people laugh. For a 17-year-old boy encountering Catholic Girls, that realization is nothing short of transformative. It’s a revelation. And in that moment, with the absurdity of life laid bare and the world feeling a little less serious, you can’t help but thank Frank Zappa for being exactly who he is.