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Loud and quiet moments

The car, I find, is a good place to listen to music. Mine is old enough to have a CD player, and I hear lots of new stuff in what is a very satisfactory sound box. But a funny thing happened when I put on the new King Crimson album, a two-CD “official bootleg” of their return to touring in the US between July and September this year. As I drove along, listening to the music, there were noises that made me think something had happened to the car: maybe a piston had blown, or the rear suspension had collapsed.

Wrong. It was the clattering set up by the three drummers who currently make up almost half of the current King Crimson, and whose synchronous but sometimes fairly abstruse playing occasionally gives the impression of a complex machine making its own decisions.

Robert Fripp has form with this sort of thing. Mike Giles, his band’s original drummer, could make 4/4 sound like a study of the calculus of infinitesimals. Later on, the short-lived combination of Jamie Muir and Bill Bruford created a provocative blend of the obsessively precise and the utterly random. Nowadays, when King Crimson take the stage, it is with the three drummers — Pat Mastelotto, Jeremy Stacey and Gavin Harrison — arrayed in front of the other four musicians.

The saxophonist/flautist Mel Collins, the guitarist Jakko Jakszyk, the bassist Tony Levin, and Fripp himself (seated, as always) take up their positions behind the battery of batterie. I don’t know why Fripp chose this configuration, but the music — recorded at two venues, the Anthem in Washington, DC and the Egg in Albany, NY — begins, after a short spoken introduction by the leader, with a thunderous percussion-only barrage that made me think of a 21st century Sandy Nelson, rendered in Warhol-style triplicate.

The rest of the two hours is devoted to King Crimson old and new, from “21st Century Schizoid Man”, “Epitaph” and “Islands” through “Larks’ Tongues in Aspic”, “Starless” “Red” and “Discipline” to a few examples of their more recent work, with which I am considerably less familiar. The respect shown to the greatest hits is absolute; the material is performed with technical excellence and fidelity to the originals but also a spirit that makes the clambering, juddering lines of something like “Level Five” — from 2003’s The Power to Believe — into more than mere exercises, while the rendering of “Starless” has a beguilingly eccentric grandeur that doesn’t seem to take itself too seriously. Jakszyk’s vocals recall those of Greg Lake and John Wetton, the washes of mellotron strings and flutes add an authentic period flavour, and Collins pops up occasionally to remind us what an exceptional and unjustly underappreciated player he has always been.

Arriving in the same package was something very different: a box of eight CDs called Music for Quiet Moments, a compilation of the solo pieces Fripp recorded between 2004 and 2009 in many different venues around Europe and America and released individually as downloads between May 2020 and April 2021. This music proceeds from the experiments that began in the autumn on 1972, when Brian Eno invited me to his flat in Maida Vale to hear something he’d been up to, using two Revox tape machines to record and loop Fripp’s guitar, creating a slow-moving, unusually textured, quietly mesmerising sound that could function as foreground or background. Released the following year under the title (No Pussyfooting) on Island’s low-price HELP label, it was the beginning not just of Frippertronics and Fripp’s more recent Soundscapes but of Eno’s work with ambient and generative music.

These new Soundscapes range in length from a handful of minutes to three-quarters of an hour. Some of the pieces share titles that include “Elegy”, “Pastorale”, “Seascape” and “Evensong”, indicating the moods Fripp is painting with his guitar and its associated effects, often producing sounds resembling slow-moving clusters of violas and cellos. Miraculously, at least to my ears, the risk of passivity is avoided. Some tracks, like “Strong Quiet I and II” from Brussels in 2009, feature an improvised solo guitar line over the drifting clouds of sound: recognisably Fripp, completely lacking in ego-play, always worth following where they lead.

Is this background and/or foreground and/or something in between? Music for listening, or to accompany other activities, or to create a sense of nothingness? From Atlanta in 2006 come pieces titled “Affirmation” and “Aspiration”, a reminder of the names John Coltrane gave to the individual movements of A Love Supreme. And in interviews (such as the one in the December issue of Uncut magazine) Fripp is unafraid to use terms such as “devotional”, “sacred” and “meditative” to describe what’s going on. He isn’t more specific. But the music there to be used, in whatever way you feel appropriate.

* King Crimson’s Music Is Our Friend / Live in Washington and Albany 2021 and Robert Fripp’s Music for Quiet Moments are released on the Panegyric label (www.dgmlive.com). The photograph of Fripp was taken by Tony Levin in Chicago this year.

5 Comments Post a comment
  1. Colin Harper #

    I’m thrilled that a physical version of ‘Music For Quiet Moments’ is available. I found Robert’s previous soundscapes CD releases tremendously helpful during a period of troubles in the late 2000s – calming and, yes, somehow spiritual or spirit healing. I bought several of the ‘Quiet Moments’ downloads last year but I’m not a download enthusiast – I don’t have listening devices for such things other than my PC. That said, they are calming to work to… For me, King Crimson is a gnarly, curious thing, interesting to read about but not pleasant to hear; but Robert’s soundscape recordings are pure genius and inspiration – his greatest works, in my view.

    December 10, 2021
    • Tim Adkin #

      Colin – given your background I’m a bit surprised you have difficulty with Crimson. Their early albums – from ‘…Poseidon’ through to ‘Islands’ (always found the debut disappointing mainly due to the noodling on ‘Moonchild’) – were one of my entry points into UK jazz due to the sterling contributions of Tippett, Charig, Miller et al. RW very much championed the band back then. There’s also a strong argument for the ’72 -’75 incarnation being one of the greatest rock bands of that, or any, era (the live stuff in particular provides plenty of evidence for this). The ‘Discipline’ era band were fine too. I’ve not heard that much of the later versions but they do sound a bit ‘gnarly’ but certainly give the earlier ones another listen.

      Also agree that Mel Collins is very under appreciated – although back in the day Clannad fans hated him. He’s a fine player and I’m glad he’s still around. Strangely enough my favourite bit of Collins is a solo he plays on a Camel song ‘Fingertips’.

      December 12, 2021
      • Colin Harper #

        I quite like ‘Red’ and I find KC interesting to watch in the odd video clip, and interesting to read about, but I have no emotional connection to them / their music. O wasn’t ‘there’ – I didn’t grow up with their music being released in real time. Maybe that makes a difference? But I do feel an emotional connection to Bob’s contemplative instrumental music.

        December 12, 2021
  2. Mick Steels #

    Mel Collins has been under appreciated for a long time, and it would certainly have been interesting to have heard him in the company of his contemporaries from the British modern jazz scene

    December 11, 2021
  3. My favourite Fripp solo work in the field of Frippertronics is LET THE POWER FALL. It is miles away from the more pastoral vibes of later works, often recorded in churches, sometimes with a saxophone player at his side. These meditative pieces often tend to be a bit close to new age territories, but, okay, one person‘s boredom is another person‘ shangrila. That said, nothing can surpass the shining beauty of the mellow side 1 of EVENING STAR, his duo with Eno in the early years (that in fact ands with an excerpt of Eno‘s DISCREET MUSIC.) So I am a bit scepticall about the impact his new collection of musical meditations might have on me.

    Thanks to the remixes of Steven Wilson, I listened a lot, in the last years, to King Crimson‘s albums from the early classics till THE POWER TO BELIEVE. The surround mixes are so wonderful, as if the music would on e have been made for 5:1-immersion. I hope LET THE POWER FALL will once be released in a surround version.

    December 12, 2021

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