That's fine, but you then need someone to transcribe the compositions into a format that the other band members could play. It seems that once Beefheart had put it out there that was that as far as he was concerned, and it was up to someone else to get it to the point where it could be performed or recorded.
For much of the later period, that responsibility went to French, but for Safe As Milk it was largely in the hands of one Ryland Peter Cooder.
The reader might have formed the impression somewhere along the line that Beefheart was completely aloof from commercial matters, but it seems that at least in the lead-up to Safe As Milk he had ambitions that might translate into money and while, in French's words saw himself as beyond the drudgery of anything resembling work he put a deal of effort into ensuring that once Cooder had agreed to come on board, aboard was where he stayed.
Up to this point, in French's story, the band hadn't completely worked out more than a couple of songs to a point where they were recordable, but once Cooder arrived things fell into place with remarkable rapidity.
Having managed a contract with Buddah/Kama Sutra (yes, that Buddah, the one that gave us the 1910 Fruitgum Company) and a thousand dollar advance, most of which was used to buy the suits the band wore for the album cover photo, sessions began at Sunset Sound and RCA Studios under the guidance of Richard Perry, who demanded no less than seventy-eight takes of Sure 'Nuff 'N Yes I Do!
That was just to get the instrumental tracks in place. Add another four or five nights for the vocals and the album was finally done.
With the album in the can, there was apparently a plan for Beefheart to play at the Monterey Pop Festival, which could have been very interesting indeed, but the Captain's personality foibles got in the way. Having travelled to the Bay area to play a love-in at Mount Tamalpais with Country Joe & The Fish and Jefferson Airplane it only took two songs for the wheels to fall off.
For a start, rather than playing anything from the album, Beefheart called for a blues jam called Maybe That'll Teach Ya that the band had done once, and a very long time ago in the pre-Cooder era and needed to be told what key his harmonica needed to be in. Mr Cooder was apparently not impressed.
On the second number, Electricity, the Captain barely got through the opening verse before abruptly walking, quite literally, off the back of the stage on top of the head honcho of the record company. The rest of the band finished the number as an instrumental and left the stage, embarrassed. Cooder left the band.