
There will be those who will think the idea of connecting conversations that took place a quarter century apart is some kind of conceptual feat; we maintain that the snippets match up only because that’s how Frank edited them that day. There’s more discussion of pigs and ponies, from both eras, though most of the later dialogue only appears on the second disc. There, members of Ensemble Modern speak in languages other than English to add tension on the part of actor Michael Rapaport (who was dating Moon Zappa at the time of recording).
The music itself is very much in line with Frank’s orchestral tendencies, sometimes merely suggested by the dialogue that precedes or overlaps with it. Those can be entertaining, but things like “Reagan At Bitburg”, which commemorates that president’s visit to cemetery of Nazi criminals, suggest more significance. This one was realized on the Synclavier, and is able emulate an orchestra as well as what used to have to be played back sped up. (Clearly, he loved hearing his music without having to have actual people play it.) The spooky “Buffalo Voice” and “Get A Life” are very evocative of parts of Lumpy Gravy, or at least “The Chrome-Plated Megaphone Of Destiny”. “N-Lite”, divided into six unmarked parts, takes up the last eighteen minutes of the first disc. It sounds a lot like everything else, except for the occasional sample of gurgling or gargling, and a few areas where a piano is prominent. “A Pig With Wings” manages to cross the sound of a harp with piano strings being plucked for a feel somewhere between Japanese and flamenco. “Dio Fa” (itself the title of another unrealized Zappa masterwork) is dominated by samples of Tuvan throat singers (a feature of another interest Frank didn’t live to explore further). Fifteen of the last twenty minutes on disc two are taken up by “Beat The Reaper”—which has consistent rain in the background while Frank noodles on the Synclavier—followed by “Waffenspiel”, a collage of sound effects.
The album was released directly through Zappa’s own mail-order company, in a deluxe cardboard package with libretto. At two discs and running nearly two hours, rapt attention is required, and the mind does wander, even without said libretto. Yet Civilization Phaze III is held up by those who know such things as Frank’s crowning achievement, and a fine example of 20th century classical; indeed, orchestras have since tried to take some of this music on. We’ll have to take their word for it.
Frank Zappa Civilization Phaze III (1994)—2
Excellent review. Have been sinking my teeth into this album recently.
ReplyDeleteHarsh words. But entirely justified. You only have to compare the inside-a-piano spoken word to the original Lumpy Gravy elements to hear how far Frank had strayed from humankind. In his imperial phase (and we all know what that is, don't kid yourself) Frank was a creative hub, influences spinning in his orbit, the quintessence of LA cheepniss and by extension the Untied Snakes of America. Prior to being flung off his life he was clinging on to the rim of the kulchur wheel, a lonely guy who'd basically run out of tunes (and worse, ideas), with a mission to convince the ungrateful world of his High Art genius. Joe's Garage is a better opera, with more to say in a more entertaining way. He'd pretty much given up on the human race, which is fair enough, but the human race, equally fairly, had given up on him. What happened to all the fun in the world, Frank? It didn't finish up on Civilization Phase III.
ReplyDelete"Parts of it are excellent" as the curate said. But spooning out the morsels of warmth from these icy wastes is just too much hard work. I think I'll listen to Burnt Weeny Sandwich for the bazillionth time instead, because I'll hear something I didn't hear before. And I can dance to it, unlike the architecture of CP3.
Ever thine,
FT3
Burnt Weeny Sandwich is my Zappa go-to.
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