King Crimson, "Red" (Atlantic, 1974)
The covers of the original pressings of King Crimson's "Red" - like the one I bought decades ago in the cutout bin at Sears for $2.88 - contained the message "R.I.P."
By the release of "Red" in late 1974, King Crimson had ceased to exist, by decree of lead guitarist Robert Fripp, long the sole surviving original member of the band that delivered the classic debut "In the Court of the Crimson King" in 1969. The '74 incarnation, despite some movement around the fringes, had been the most stable Crimson lineup by far, lasting the better part of two years.
But as cited in articles of the time, Fripp decided he "wants to do something positive in a completely new direction," which apparently didn't include his bandmates, bassist John Wetton and drummer Bill Bruford.
The decree couldn't have sat well with Bruford, who in 1972 had come to King Crimson from Yes, just as the latter band was starting to ascend to international superstardom.
"It's sad for me because I felt emotionally committed to the band, but I've been very proud of my association with the band and I've performed some of my best work with them," the talented percussionist was quoted as saying in Melody Maker.
Coming out in the wake of the split was "Red," King Crimson's seventh studio-oriented release and, in the minds of some fans, quite possibly its best. It certainly is the band's most accessible since its debut effort, forging the sound on most of the tracks as a power trio - albeit one that still played in unconventional time signatures. To the discerning listener, of course, that made the music all the more interesting.
"Red" kicks off with the title track, a ferocious instrumental that apparently got its name from the VU meters surging into the danger zone during its recording. (At least, that's what the back cover photo of a meter with the needle squarely in the red would have you believe.) The song is constructed along lines similar to previous KC instrumentals that worked to great effect: "Larks' Tongues in Aspic, Part Two" from the "Larks' Tongues" album and "Fracture" from "Starless and Bible Black."
"Fallen Angel" follows, starting as a lighter, more melodic composition that suddenly turns as stark as Richard Palmer-James' lyrics about the stabbing death of a teenager. Fripp's heavy, droning guitar chords and Marc Charig's cornet carry the song to its conclusion.
Bruford's high-energy percussion fills help usher in the third track, "One More Red Nightmare," Palmer-James' tale of a plane crash narrowly averted. Or was it? The lengthy closing jam, driven by a horn section featuring former Crimson members Ian McDonald and Mel Collins, comes to a very abrupt halt, implying that the protagonist might not really have been "Really safe and sound, asleep on the Greyhound" after all that.
From the closing cacophony of "One More Red Nightmare," the album shifts to a soft violin solo to open "Providence." The player is David Cross, who was a member of King Crimson until the end of the band's 1974 tour, when he apparently was asked to leave. This improvisational piece comes a show in Rhode Island's capital toward the end of that tour, which wrapped up with a concert in New York's Central Park. "Providence" creates an interesting soundscape, particularly Wetton's deep bass notes fed back through his amplifier. (Hearing this song in digital splendor back in 1986 helped convince me it was time to invest in one of those newfangled compact disc players.)
"Red" concludes with 12-plus minutes of "Starless" (not to be confused with the instrumental song "... and Bible Black"), which the band debuted to favorable response during the '74 tour. The mellotron-driven song starts with a section that ranks among King Crimson's most enduring melodic efforts, fitting Palmer-James' words about loneliness and/or love gone bad.
On an early '90s retrospective called "Frame By Frame," Fripp chose to whittle "Starless" down to the three verses of the main section, ending it at just over 4 minutes. That didn't sit well at all with longtime fans who consider the jam that follows as one of the high points in the King Crimson catalog. It builds up slowly, with Wetton's halting bass line underlying Fripp's sinister-sounding picking. Bruford enters with a sundry percussive noisy at strategic places in the stereo mix, as Fripp's playing picks up in intensity. Finally, the whole thing boils over into a raucous horn-driven section, which carries on for a couple of minutes before quieting briefly. Then it's time for some of Fripp to flail away with his trademark buzzsaw sound, before everything comes to a dramatic end with a brief, grand restating of the song's main theme.
And then, it was R.I.P. for King Crimson - until Fripp and Bruford resurrected the band seven years later, joined by Adrian Belew and Tony Levin for a sound that was nothing like listeners heard on "Red."
In that regard, it's a shame that Fripp decided not to keep things going in '74.
The covers of the original pressings of King Crimson's "Red" - like the one I bought decades ago in the cutout bin at Sears for $2.88 - contained the message "R.I.P."
By the release of "Red" in late 1974, King Crimson had ceased to exist, by decree of lead guitarist Robert Fripp, long the sole surviving original member of the band that delivered the classic debut "In the Court of the Crimson King" in 1969. The '74 incarnation, despite some movement around the fringes, had been the most stable Crimson lineup by far, lasting the better part of two years.
But as cited in articles of the time, Fripp decided he "wants to do something positive in a completely new direction," which apparently didn't include his bandmates, bassist John Wetton and drummer Bill Bruford.
The decree couldn't have sat well with Bruford, who in 1972 had come to King Crimson from Yes, just as the latter band was starting to ascend to international superstardom.
"It's sad for me because I felt emotionally committed to the band, but I've been very proud of my association with the band and I've performed some of my best work with them," the talented percussionist was quoted as saying in Melody Maker.
Coming out in the wake of the split was "Red," King Crimson's seventh studio-oriented release and, in the minds of some fans, quite possibly its best. It certainly is the band's most accessible since its debut effort, forging the sound on most of the tracks as a power trio - albeit one that still played in unconventional time signatures. To the discerning listener, of course, that made the music all the more interesting.
"Red" kicks off with the title track, a ferocious instrumental that apparently got its name from the VU meters surging into the danger zone during its recording. (At least, that's what the back cover photo of a meter with the needle squarely in the red would have you believe.) The song is constructed along lines similar to previous KC instrumentals that worked to great effect: "Larks' Tongues in Aspic, Part Two" from the "Larks' Tongues" album and "Fracture" from "Starless and Bible Black."
"Fallen Angel" follows, starting as a lighter, more melodic composition that suddenly turns as stark as Richard Palmer-James' lyrics about the stabbing death of a teenager. Fripp's heavy, droning guitar chords and Marc Charig's cornet carry the song to its conclusion.
Bruford's high-energy percussion fills help usher in the third track, "One More Red Nightmare," Palmer-James' tale of a plane crash narrowly averted. Or was it? The lengthy closing jam, driven by a horn section featuring former Crimson members Ian McDonald and Mel Collins, comes to a very abrupt halt, implying that the protagonist might not really have been "Really safe and sound, asleep on the Greyhound" after all that.
From the closing cacophony of "One More Red Nightmare," the album shifts to a soft violin solo to open "Providence." The player is David Cross, who was a member of King Crimson until the end of the band's 1974 tour, when he apparently was asked to leave. This improvisational piece comes a show in Rhode Island's capital toward the end of that tour, which wrapped up with a concert in New York's Central Park. "Providence" creates an interesting soundscape, particularly Wetton's deep bass notes fed back through his amplifier. (Hearing this song in digital splendor back in 1986 helped convince me it was time to invest in one of those newfangled compact disc players.)
"Red" concludes with 12-plus minutes of "Starless" (not to be confused with the instrumental song "... and Bible Black"), which the band debuted to favorable response during the '74 tour. The mellotron-driven song starts with a section that ranks among King Crimson's most enduring melodic efforts, fitting Palmer-James' words about loneliness and/or love gone bad.
On an early '90s retrospective called "Frame By Frame," Fripp chose to whittle "Starless" down to the three verses of the main section, ending it at just over 4 minutes. That didn't sit well at all with longtime fans who consider the jam that follows as one of the high points in the King Crimson catalog. It builds up slowly, with Wetton's halting bass line underlying Fripp's sinister-sounding picking. Bruford enters with a sundry percussive noisy at strategic places in the stereo mix, as Fripp's playing picks up in intensity. Finally, the whole thing boils over into a raucous horn-driven section, which carries on for a couple of minutes before quieting briefly. Then it's time for some of Fripp to flail away with his trademark buzzsaw sound, before everything comes to a dramatic end with a brief, grand restating of the song's main theme.
And then, it was R.I.P. for King Crimson - until Fripp and Bruford resurrected the band seven years later, joined by Adrian Belew and Tony Levin for a sound that was nothing like listeners heard on "Red."
In that regard, it's a shame that Fripp decided not to keep things going in '74.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home