Moon, meanwhile, is equally unprepared for the chat show inanities and the savage backlash from peers and the public, all as garden-variety puberty paralysis helps distort her Hollywood goldfish bowl to shattering point. Fame turns out to be as useful as her chronic acne as her search for love pivots from an ill-advised crush on Jon Bon Jovi to a bizarre liaison with “one of America’s most beloved actors” named Woody (drawling accent, gappy teeth, father a murderer). A reckless one-night stand with a 32-year-old heavy-metal drummer, blithely encouraged by her parents, leads to a prompt abortion.

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Zappa writes about her father’s sudden decline and early death in 1993 from cancer, with great emotional power, gently loosening the sardonic mask he showed to the world with small, telling details. The subsequent bombshell — “Earth to Moon, he left no will” — sets up the final, unfathomably cruel tragedy that divides the four Zappa children, thanks to the spiteful dead hand of Gail, to this day.

Earth To Moon is a tough read for fans of Frank Zappa, even those of us practised at that perennial modern conversation that elevates the genius of art from the questionable realities of the artist. His music remains what it is. But what once looked like a brave new rock ‘n ’ roll code of liberation turns out to have a little too much in common with selfishness and neglect.

The good news is all about his daughter, who manages to upend her poisoned cup of nepotism and privilege with hard work, self-knowledge and, on the last page of a tome doubtlessly scrutinised by family lawyers on all sides, an astonishing degree of forgiveness. Still way cooler than me, that’s for sure.