NOTE: This is a followup (by request) to Translator's excellent Diary which addressed the early history of King Crimson. I commend that Diary to you to put this one in its proper context.
"King Crimson is, as always, more a way of doing things. When there is nothing to be done, nothing is done: Crimson disappears. When there is music to be played, Crimson reappears. If all of life were this simple". Robert Fripp
It was Halloween night at Carnegie Mellon University, 1981. I had just turned 19, and had taken a road trip with college friends to see a band that I'd had very limited exposure to up to that point. I knew who Robert Fripp was and I think I may have had a copy of "Larks Tongues in Aspic" by then, but I was frankly unprepared for the spectacle about to unfold in the Skibo gym.
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It was a long time ago, and I had consumed a few Hallucinogens, so my memory may not be completely trustworthy, but I recall a stage bathed in eerie, red light, and suddenly the stage lights coming on, revealing a masked figure dressed in a skin-tight red costume who resembled no-one so much as the Frank Gorshin's Riddler from the old Batman series. He leered at the audience, shouted "Trick or Treat!," and the band burst into something like this:
After seven years in the wilderness, The Crimson King had found his Mephistopheles.
http://en.wikipedia.org/...
Fripp had never been in a band with another guitarist before, other than his stint in Peter Gabriel's 1977 touring band, so the decision to seek a second guitarist was indicative of Fripp's desire to create a sound unlike any of his previous work.[4] Belew (who agreed to join the new band following his tour commitments with Talking Heads) would also become the band’s lyricist.
But the thing I most remember about that concert was being a little afraid of the big bald guy with the bass. You see, in the early 80's there were no bald guys--not like there are now. Hair loss was something guys endured in stoic agony. No one shaved their head. That was...weird. This guy looked like he could kill somebody with that bass.
Ah, memories....
A few years back my friend was sipping margaritas in the Copabanana, a dive bar on South Street in Philadelphia, getting ready to attend the King Crimson show at the TLA next door, when Robert Fripp and Adrian Belew walked in and sat down at the elliptical bar a few seats down. At first he didn't recognize them, it just seemed like an odd couple to patronize the Copa, the younger one chattering like a chipmunk on amphetamines, the older one patiently smiling at his young ward, nodding occasionally with tender affection. From my friend's account it seems clear that Belew fairly idolizes Fripp. That may be the only dynamic that could conceivably work for a guitarist so secretive about his technique that he (legend has it) refused for years to let himself be filmed on stage and would often keep his fingers hidden from view by amps and other stage equipment while performing.
The "New" two-guitar King Crimson of 1981 was starkly different than any prior version, something old fans would have to get used to. Indeed, I have been known to state on several occasions that the less Belew opens his mouth, the more the music is to my liking. Accordingly the clips embedded here are skewed by my own bias for their instrumentation as opposed to vocal content.
With this new band, described by J. D. Considine in The New Rolling Stone Album Guide as having a "jaw-dropping technique" of "knottily rhythmic, harmonically demanding workouts",[39] Fripp intended to create the sound of a "rock gamelan", with an interlocking rhythmic quality to the paired guitars that he found similar to Indonesian gamelan ensembles.[4] Fripp concentrated on playing complex picked arpeggios while Belew provided a striking arsenal of guitar sounds (including animal and insect noises, backward envelopes, industrial textures and demented lead guitar screams) utilising a broad range of electronic effects and unorthodox playing styles. Within the rhythm section, Levin brought elements of contemporary urban styles to the basslines, while Bruford experimented, at Fripp’s behest, with a cymbal-free drumkit.
This is an Indonesian gamelan ensemble. You will recognize elements of the "new" King Crimson sound in the instrumental interplay:
The Fripp/Belew partnership would last thirty years and is still ongoing, although the supporting cast has changed over the decades and there have been offshoots and stepchildren. On many albums it is difficult to tell who is playing what guitar part. Belew has gradually grown into the role of frontman and chief songwriter. Enlisting Bill Bruford from the old lineup and the awe-inspiring, hulking Tony Levin (see above) on bass (who introduced the Chapman stick not only to Fripp but essentially to the rest of the world), the original lineup on Discipline marked a powerful new direction for this band. No more could anyone describe their music as "airy fairy" (an accusation levelled by an unnamed band member at Islands). This was something powerful and new, something that grabbed you by the nape of the neck, and shook you.
The Chapman Stick:
I do remember one thing.
It took hours and hours but..
by the time I was done with it
I was so involved
I didn't know what to think.
I carried it around with me for days and days..
playing little games
like not looking at it for a whole day
and then.. looking at it.
to see if I still liked it.
I did.
I repeat myself when under stress.
I repeat myself when under stress.
I repeat myself when under stress.
I repeat myself when under stress.
I repeat..
The more I look at it
the more I like it.
I do think it's good.
The fact is..
no matter how closely I study it
no matter how I take it apart
no matter how I break it down
It remains consistant.
I wish you were here to see it.
I like it.
It also included one of the most beautiful King Crimson songs ever recorded, Matte Kudasai (Please Wait):
The follow-up, Beat, was just as interesting, in the same musical vein but with a more lyrical grounding:
Oh they’re touching
They’re touching each other
They’re feeling
They push and move
And love each other, love each other
They fit together like two hands...
I am a face
In the painting on the wall
I pose and shudder
And watch from the foot of the bed
Sometimes I think I can
Feel everything...
The wind is blowing
My hair in their direction
The wind is bending my hair
There are no windows in the painting
No open windows, no open windows, no.
.
The title, "Beat" was a general paean to the Beat generation of Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, Neal Cassady, and William Burroughs. Hence the album's signature track, "Neal and Jack and Me."
Interlude...
A brief fast forward(as time is arguably irrelevant). As the 80's progressed into the 90's, Fripp did not limit his work to King Crimson. He formed the "League of Crafty Guitarists" which served as an incubator of sorts for those schooled in the Fripp method, and spawned, among others, the California Guitar Trio, formed in 1991. I caught the Trio in a small venue in Philadelphia in the mid 1990's. If you don't play any of the other videos in this Diary, play this one (I selected it among several versions for the best sound quality):
This phase in Crimson History concluded with an interesting but not particularly accessible album, "Three of A Perfect Pair", rounding out the trilogy. The band proceeded to split up, with Fripp pursuing his own projects, including musical education for nearly a decade.
The 1990's
In the early 1990's Belew approached Fripp about reforming the band. During this time frame Fripp conceived the "double trio" lineup, which consisted of a a dual bass and drum section supporting the guitar-wielding frontmen, resulting in a sextet (In practice the dual "overlay" was predominantly used in drumming sequences). The new parties were Paul Mastellato on drumming and Trey Gunn on bass. This unusual arrangement resulted in VROOOM, a self-described "Calling Card" EP that showed the band returning to its power roots.
Fripp effectively entered the computer age with this recording and its follow-ups, B'BOOM, VROOOM VROOOM (Live), and ultimately, THRAK, employing MIDI technology:
MIDI (Musical Instrument Digital Interface), pronounced /ˈmɪdi/, is an industry-standard protocol that enables electronic musical instruments (synthesizers, drum machines), computers and other electronic equipment (MIDI controllers, sound cards, samplers) to communicate and synchronize with each other
The double trio would intentionally fracture amid "creative tensions", predominantly between Fripp and Bruford, during the 1990's. Rather than split up the group permanently, various incarnations of the sextet determined to nurture individual "Projekcts," putatively serving as research and development cells for the mother unit.
This enabled the group to continue developing musical ideas and searching for Crimson's next direction without the practical difficulty and expense of convening all six members in one place at once. As with previous King Crimson endeavours, the ProjekCts embraced new technology – in this case, Mastelotto’s electronic drum loop devices, Trey Gunn’s MIDI-triggered "talkbox" and the new electronic Roland V-Drums played by both Mastelotto and Belew. (Bruford had declined to play the V-drums despite Fripp’s request). Various King Crimson members have continued to create new ProjeKCts up until the present day, as and where necessary (and to cover recent hiatuses in main group activity).
These "Projeckts" often took the form of limited engagements involving the various band members in one incarnation or another.
The next album, in 2000 was called "The Construkction of Light" (A parallel album, "Heaven and Earth" was also released in 2000 under the aegis of "projeKct X" and fronted by Gunn and Mastelatto). This album featured the fourth incarnation of "Lark's Tongues In Aspic":
This album drew mixed reviews, however, with some characterizing it as the weakest King Crimson album since "Islands.". I went to the concert performance and found it somewhat desultory. I was much more impressed by the "Level Five" material offered as an extended EP:
In my view, all respect to "Larks Tongues" redux on "Construkction" notwithstanding, "Level Five" represents a return to that buildup of demonic tension characteristic of the original "Larks Tongues," "Starless" and "Red" albums.
The last complete studio album of original material was "The Power To Believe," released in 2003. In many respects this is the album fans of the old style of King Crimson have waited patiently for. The Title track (Parts II and III) resembles something out of Starless and Bible Black, and Belew's overall vocal presence is diminished, often filtered, with sparse lyrics, and the musical overlay is eclectic, to say the least. The album got generally positive reviews although some found it deliberately "retro" of former KC styles solely for the sake of pleasing old-time fans. I personally think it's an awesome album. Sure its a little retro in style ("EleKtrik" sounds a lot like "Easy Money)," but Belew's voice is actually the most listenable since Beat.
What then, keeps this band so interesting after all these years? From the outset the signature quality of King Crimson, both from a musical and lyrical standpoint, has been its elevation of the sinister to high art. It is a music borne of controlled tension, with an overarching, fatalistic quality. There is little given over to sentimentality in their music, despite some ventures by Belew into almost Beatlesque reveries on "Thrak." From the outset their lyrics have dwelt on the ephemeral nature of man and his desires. Their last few albums have grown darker and more minimalistic from a lyrical standpoint:
Now some of us build
And some of us teach
Some of us build
Some of us teach
And some of us kill
What some of us eat
That is a fact of life
That is a fact of life
Nobody knows
What happens when you die
Nobody knows
What happens when you die
Believe what you want
It doesn't mean you're right
That is a fact of life
That is a fact of life
"Facts of Life"
Since 2003 there has been little officially-released product from the King Crimson "entity," although the various members of the sextet have emerged for live performances in different forms. Having reached what appears to be a creative plateau, Mr. Fripp has apparently withdrawn for a bit to plot future schemes. It is significant that he was recently quoted as stating that he still considers Tony Levin a member of "King Crimson" in absentia. So the band is still very much alive. Given the incredible longevity and breadth of its' talents, individually and collectively, I am reminded of the last lines of Arthur C. Clarke's "The Sentinel:"
I can never look now at the Milky Way without wondering from which of those banked clouds of stars the emissaries are coming. If you will pardon so commonplace a simile, we have set off the fire-alarm and have nothing to do but to wait.
I do not think we will have to wait for long.