The meaning and significance of Civilization, Phaze III will be debated for many years to come. It is an elaborate sound-puzzle composed of bizarre dialogue and uncompromising music, all overhung by the specter of Zappa's impending death. Zappa worked intermittently on the project for more than a decade, and there is little doubt that his intentions for the album changed during that time. As Gail Zappa (Frank's wife) observes: "Phaze III probably started off to be one thing, but because Frank worked so hard to finish it before he died, it became something a little different...." 1
Civilization, Phaze III depicts a bleak and surrealistic world in which a diverse group of individuals—first heard on 1967's Lumpy Gravy— 2 have taken refuge inside a giant piano. Like people anywhere and anytime, these folks have difficulty getting along with one another. But they are also menaced by a force of reactionary "pigs" and "ponies" living outside the piano. The situation is charged with tension and uneasiness, and this is reflected in the predominantly dark tones of everything from the music to the album package itself (the two CDs are pure black).
While Civilization, Phaze III is often strange and forbidding, it also contains the finest Synclavier work of Zappa's career. This is partly due to improvements in technology, as Zappa explained to Downbeat in 1991: "I bought a direct-to-disc system, sixteen tracks, about an hour per track. I've expanded the RAM, expanded the number of voices in the machine. In the real world instruments don't just shut off after you've played a note; if you don't have enough RAM to hold your samples, then you have to use short samples or looped samples, which sound unrealistic. When you have more RAM space, you can use longer samples and because the ring-off is more natural, the things tend to sound better." 3
These improvements are readily apparent on Phaze III. Although the bulk of the album was recorded on Synclavier, a few of the parts were generated the old-fashioned way by men and women playing traditional acoustic instruments. But which is which? The quality of the sampled material is such that it is virtually impossible to distinguish between synthesized and human performance.
Phaze III is more than just a technological breakthrough, however. Zappa always made certain that the gadgetry was subservient to the music. In this case, he used the tools at his disposal to create a dazzling universe of sound that will keep fans of his work listening with awe, fascination, amusement, and varying degrees of bewilderment for the rest of their lives. Who could ask for more?
Well—in answer to my own question—I guess I could. The past five years have not been particularly kind to Civilization, Phaze III. While I still regard the album as a masterpiece, the additional time I've spent with it has convinced me that it is deeply flawed as well. As I'll explain in the following sections, I think this has to do with both the materials that Zappa used to create Phaze III as well as the circumstances of its creation.
Zappa describes Gravy as "a curiously inconsistent piece which started out as a ballet, but probably didn't make it." 5 Although this is a classic example of Zappian reverse psychology, it is also an unintentionally apt description of the album. Lumpy Gravy is scattered and unfocused, a mish-mash of spoken word recordings (both piano people and others), short orchestral pieces (some melodic, some rather abstract), various speeded-up recordings, and brief snatches of rock and roll. Ever the dedicated composer, Zappa probably intended Lumpy Gravy to be a vehicle for his modern orchestral music. But the balance is off: there is far too little of this music in the mix. As the listener's attention ricochets from one thing to another—humor to music to field recording, with no discernible connection between them—he is left to wonder what Zappa had in mind with this intriguing but badly fractured work.
Civilization, Phaze III corrects most of these problems. Here, the confusion of elements on Lumpy Gravy is reduced to just music and piano people, in an agreeable ratio of four to one. Unfortunately—as with his "ballet" intentions on Gravy—Zappa had loftier goals in mind. The liner notes proclaim Civilization, Phaze III to be an "opera-pantomime, with choreographed physical activity." 6 But no matter how painstakingly edited the conversations on Phaze III or how artfully assembled the packaging, with its suggestive imagery and detailed libretto, the fact remains that all of the spoken material was generated by people asked to "stick their head inside [a piano] and ramble incoherently…" 7 Despite Zappa's efforts to shape these ramblings into a penetrating sociological statement, Civilization, Phaze III's "story-line" is a shambles. While I really do enjoy listening to the piano people talk—the tonal quality of their voices and the earnestness of their discussions are both quite entertaining—I do not believe that they have anything meaningful to say.
Act II suffers the worst. Not only is there twice as much talk in this part of the program, 8 but Zappa's decision to "update" the setting with new voices comes off poorly. As with the original cast of piano people, there are some amusing moments—mostly generated by actor Michael Rappaport—but by and large the new group just doesn't fit in. The many references to contemporary culture circa 1991 make the second disc sound dated. Furthermore, the nearly-continuous bickering among the newbies quickly becomes tiresome.
Perhaps my biggest complaint, however, is that Zappa has forever linked this wonderfully bizarre music with a bogus tale of civilization's downfall. Oddly enough, he decries a similar linkage in a 1981 interview regarding the music of his hero, Edgard Varèse: "Anytime you watch a show on television and there's a scary scene and there's a sustained chord and one or two tiny little percussion bips in the background, you'll know that the guy who wrote that movie score, that TV score, never would have thought of it unless Varèse had done it first…But he didn't write the things to be scary, I don't think. He just wrote them because he was dealing with musical raw materials in a very individualistic way." 9 In a parallel sense, I doubt that Zappa was thinking about the fall of modern civilization when he wrote "N-Lite;" it is more likely that he was simply mixing and matching sounds that appealed to him. In other words: the music came first, the concept was applied later.
I just wish that Zappa had allowed his listeners the same opportunity. It's like the difference between reading a book and seeing the film adaptation. While reading gives you the freedom to create your own images, a movie insists "this is how it's supposed to look." With all due respect to Frank, I prefer not to be encumbered by the narrative he grafted onto this music. I would rather hear Civilization, Phaze III as pure sound.
In a 1996 radio documentary, Beverly D'Angelo and Spencer Chrislu outline the horrendous impact that cancer had on Zappa's ability to work: "In the end, it became a race against time for Frank. For him a normal day was eighteen hours. If he got really excited or really focused on something, he'd work 25, 26 hours…and then go to bed after that just because he had to do something. So I think [Frank] felt…that he was cutting way back to work only twelve hours." 10
It is easy to imagine that Frank's reduced time and energy level had a significant impact on Civilization, Phaze III, especially Act II. As Frank told Don Menn in 1992: "I finally finished disc one [my emphasis] of the Civilization, Phaze III album, which is something that I've been promising for years and years." 11 In fact, we learn that the centerpiece of disc one, "N-Lite," took Frank ten years to complete. Considering that Zappa had little more than a year to live at the time he spoke to Menn, that he was working on several projects at once, and that the number of hours per day he could stand to work was steadily declining, it is obvious that he had far less time to complete disc two than he did disc one.
Much as I hate to say it, I think it shows in the results. Disc one is virtually perfect. The music is extremely rich, with layer upon layer of sounds carefully arranged into each selection. This music is unlike anything heard before, a truly startling experience. For disc two to even equal this achievement—especially considering the incredible impact of "N-Lite"—would be a tremendous challenge under the best of circumstances. And Frank's circumstances were far from the best.
As a result, the music on disc two simply does not measure up to the standards set by such magnificent pieces as "Put A Motor In Yourself," "Reagan At Bitburg," "Buffalo Voice" and "N-Lite." Instead, many of Act II's compositions come off as sketches: pieces that might have been made of sturdier stuff if Zappa had had more time to perfect them. "Gross Man" meanders. "I Was In A Drum" and "A Pig With Wings" are empty displays of virtuosity. "Hot And Putrid" is a throwaway track. And so on.
The two longest tracks on the second disc—"Dio Fa" and "Beat The Reaper"—present a different problem for me. Both are reminiscent of music that Wendy Carlos recorded years previously. "Dio Fa" has much the same character as a piece called "Incantation" on Carlos' Beauty In The Beast, 12 while "Beat The Reaper" utilizes the same rainfall-against-electronics motif as "Spring" from the Sonic Seasonings album. 13 While there is no way of knowing whether Frank was influenced by either of these compositions—and both are certainly far less sophisticated than the material on Phaze III—it is still very disconcerting to hear anything by Zappa that sounds even vaguely derivative of another artist's work. It is the kind of thing that sets one's teeth on edge. 14
Finally, there is the ultimate disappointment of the album's concluding track, "Waffenspiel." It is difficult for me to even account for Zappa's thinking here. After thrilling the listener with over an hour and a half—that's minus the talk—of brilliant (and sometimes brilliantly frustrating) musical sounds, to have the album end with four minutes of gunfire, barking dogs, automobile noises and an airplane flying overhead comes as a tremendous letdown. Even the two minutes of grating feedback that conclude Weasels Ripped My Flesh 15 seem enlightening by comparison. And when one recalls the truly awe-inspiring finishes that Zappa was capable of—for example "Strictly Genteel" on You Can't Do That On Stage Anymore, Volume #6 16 or "Yo Mama" on Sheik Yerbouti— 17 it is very disheartening to have one of his most vital albums fade anonymously into silence. 18
Well…you've got me there, Frank. I do need to search out and listen to those composers, as well as others that you've mentioned over the years like Elliot Carter, Oliver Messiaen, Conlon Nancarrow, John Cage, Pierre Boulez, Charles Ives, Alban Berg, Karlheinz Stockhausen, George Anthiel and Leo Ornstein. While I'm at it, I should probably listen to what musicians are doing with electronics today. Maybe find out just what this "techno" thing is all about.
Once I've absorbed all that information, Civilization, Phaze III may sound better to me. Perhaps I'll even learn to appreciate Act II. But despite the imperfections I see in it today, Civilization, Phaze III is still an album of tremendous importance. It raises the bar, by several notches, of what is required from both composer and listener. Certainly, it has forever changed the way that I hear music. Even if my impression of Civilization, Phaze III never becomes more favorable, that is a powerful thing to say about any work of art.