KING CRIMSON

After "Red", a despondent and jaded Robert Fripp declared the end of King Crimson. It seemed then that one of the seminal and fundamental chapters of progressive rock was over. But, once again, as all that could be expected from the band is the unexpected, seven years later the Crimson bird surprisingly rises from the ashes with "Discipline", their eighth album.

The umpteenth mutation of the band comes with a more modernised production, with the innovative Frippertronics, a device created by Fripp's labyrinthine mind, which generates a sound loop using his guitar as an ally and creates a repetition effect related to the electronic and the nascent new wave movement, with the also innovative bass-guitar "Chapman Stick" of the recently incorporated Tony Levin, both of them standing out in several passages of the album, as in the satirical "Elephant Talk", a critique of the talk show culture and the opinionated media, in the tense "Frame by Frame", or in the anecdotal and funky "Thela Hun Ginjeet", all songs guided by the insidious voice of Adrian Belew, ex-collaborator of David Byrne's Talking Heads.

And the album's brief space for reflection with the gentle "Matte Kudasai" and its arpeggiated description of warm landscapes is only a respite to give way to the band's most recognisable side, experimentation as an imperious need to express itself, with the aggressive and unbridled "Indiscipline", the stratospheric ramblings of Fripp's synthesised guitar accompanied by Bill Bruford's infinite and hypnotic Central African wooden drumming in the mystical "The Sheltering Sky", and the balanced "Discipline", with a persistent Fripp again taking the lead at the helm of his Frippertronics accompanied by the band's measured instrumental support. A disciplined closing...

"Discipline" marks a new beginning for King Crimson, with an album that, beyond its need not to pigeonhole itself with anything in particular, begins to incorporate into its style the trends that the decade of the 80's brought with it.

Very good.

3.5/4 stars

Faithful to the compulsion to experiment and improvise as fundamental energy sources to develop their works, King Crimson take a step further with the complex "Starless and Black Bible", their sixth album (although to call it complex in the case of Robert Fripp's band is like saying the most common thing). Studio recordings and live improvisations, isolated from the sound of the audience, force the listener to a new exercise of concentration and maximum attention in order to enter the schizoid Crimsonian universe.

Difficult to digest tracks like the disconcerting "We'll Let You Know", the chaotic order of "The Mincer", or the intemperate "Starless and Bible Black" and Fripp's screeching and persistent guitars, contrast with Wetton's peaceful and grave voice in the precious "The Night Watch", a title taken from one of the works of the Dutch painter Rembrandt, with the relaxed and instrumentally magical "Trio" and David Cross's violins overlapping with Fripp's guitars, and also with the excellent and extended instrumental dalliance "Fracture", dominated almost from beginning to end by Fripp's errant and distorted guitars again, in a constant half-time with jazzy airs and reinforced by Bruford's drums. One of the album's best.

A hypnotic cocktail full of chiaroscuro sensations, from which only the agile and catchy critique of consumerism "The Great Deceiver" and the nostalgic and at the same time unleashed "Lament" are spared. Curiously, both songs, with more conventional structures, are the only ones on the album recorded in the studio.

"Starless and Bible Black" is one of the few King Crimson albums in which the same musicians from their previous work, "Lark's Tongues in Aspic", were kept on, and it was also the ideal transition to the indispensable "Red".

Very good.

3.5/4 stars

Solid King Crimson live recording from their most recent period of activity - an era focused on live touring and integrating songs from all eras of King Crimson into a cohesive tapestry reflecting the band's musical evolution over the span of decades. If you've heard releases like Radical Action (To Unseat the Hold of Monkey Mind) this will be broadly familiar territory, and doesn't add much which is especially revolutionary over that, but taken on its own it's an entirely capable release from a highly confident lineup of the band which, at this point, had gelled well as a group and were able to tackle songs from anywhere in the band's vast repertoire with aplomb.

Robert Fripp's ability to incorporate new musicians and yet always sound like King Crimson is significant to say the least. On the other hand, even without elements so present in previous works, such as Mel Collins' saxophone on "Island", the feeling is that the absences are not missed. Everything changes to remain the same seems to be the motto, and "Larks' Tongues in Aspic", the band's celebrated fifth album, confirms this, with a forcefulness that comes close to the brilliance of the debut "In the Court of the Crimson King".

The novel sounds of the kalimba, African-rooted percussion played by newcomer Jamie Muir, Fripp's distorted and pioneering metal guitars, the haemorrhagic drumming of ex-Yes drummer Bill Bruford, and the debut violin of David Cross, come together at the very beginning of the album, in the extensive "Larks' Tongues in Aspic, Part One" to structure a proposal that knows no labels and constantly redesigns its own musical cosmos, where there is room for the also recently incorporated John Wetton to deploy his melancholic voice in affable melodies, as in the brief and arpeggiated "Book of Saturday", or in the tenebrous and at the same time beautiful "Exiles", one of the album's great moments.

And as experimentation was always the fuel that stoked the fire of motivation in the Brits (rather in Fripp and his circumstantial band mates.... ), both the raspy "Easy Money" and its strange percussive sonorities along with Fripp's overlapping guitar solo in a weary gait, and the intriguing "The Talking Drum", a title taken from another African percussion simulating the sound of vocal strings and featuring Wetton's persistent bass and an instrumental base crackled by Cross's arabesque violin, are the prelude to the screeching "Larks' Tongues in Aspic, Part Two", with Fripp very active again on guitars and in conjunction with the whole band, bringing the album to a resounding conclusion.

Excellent

4/4.5 stars

The compulsive need of Robert Fripp and his band to compose works that are dissonant with the prevailing conventional structures, but at the same time use them to create just such a contrast, finds a new chapter with "Island", the fourth album by the unclassifiable King Crimson. Elements of jazz, classical music and rock are intermingled with the mission of creating an instrumental chaos that challenges the senses and forces the listener to the complicated task of entering into them and interpreting their messages.

From the indolent opener "Formentera Lady", through the lingering instrumental "Sailor's Tale" and the intriguing "The Letters", to the latter-day beatlenian "Ladies of the Road", "Island" features the wandering, dislocated sax of Mel Collins, and the distorted, screeching guitars of Fripp, as common elements that persist in disrupting the melodies of each piece, under the mantle that the jazzy, incisive drumming of newcomer Ian Wallace bestows upon them.

And as with King Crimson, the only thing to expect is the unexpected, the last section of the work offers two pieces of considerable value: the orchestral "Prelude: Song of the Gulls" and Robin Miller's oboe, and above all "Island", homonymous with the album's title, dominated by a restful and melancholic melody that the also recently arrived singer and forced bassist Boz Burrell unravels with great sensitivity, accompanied by Keith Tippet's delicate piano, Mark Charig's cornet, and Fripp's ever-present mellotron. The best track on the album.

After the recording of "Island" and following the constant dynamic of King Crimson, both Burrel and Wallace left the band with only one album completed, and frequent guest Tippet would no longer be called upon.

3.5 stars

Barely six months after the release of "In the Wake of Poseidon", King Crimson are back with the third album in their discography, the reptilian and defiant "Lizard".

From the disturbed "Cirkus (including Entry of the Chameleons)" with Gordon Haskell's pained singing, the sordid mellotron contrasted with Robert Fripp's crystalline acoustic guitars and Mel Collins' wandering saxophone, the album would not let go of that experimental and daring character characteristic of the avant-garde and unconventional Fripp and his alter ego King Crimson. Like the complex "Indoor Games" and "Happy Family", pieces that rely on jazz structures as a common thread that constantly challenge with bewildering and overwhelming developments, supported by Andy McCulloch's raw drumming and Collins' sax and flute interactions.

After so much instrumental insanity, a little sanity appears with the gentle "Lady of the Dancing Water" and Collins' delicate flutes accompanying Haskell's serene singing, and also with the opening fragment of the "Lizard" suite, "Prince Rupert Awakes", performed by guest Jon Anderson over Keith Tippet's soothing piano and Fripp's lingering mellotron. One of the best on the album.

And the eponymous title piece, "Lizard", is a suite that brings together all the ingredients of the unmistakable Crimsonian sound: a metaphorical passage from the warrior story of Prince Rupert, a prominent figure of the colonial 17th century, gives way to a bipolar tussle between oboes, saxophones, trombones and mellotrons from "Bolero - The Peacock's Tale", with McCulloch's timid drum roll in the background, through the tripartite and unhinged "The Battle of the Glass Tears", which is crowned by a sustained guitar solo from Fripp, to the circus-like "Big Top", a short, haunting and gloomy epilogue that brings the extended piece and the album to a close.

Like Greg Lake and the Giles brothers after "In the Wake of Poseidon", newcomers Haskell and Cullock also left the band after "Lizard", leaving it without a singer, bassist and drummer at the same time. Incoming and outgoing musicians became a constant dynamic in the daunting life of King Crimson.

3.5/4 stars

King Crimson's sonic experimentation on their monumental "In the Court of the Crimson King" from 1969, discovered a new world of possibilities that began to gain a lot of territory in the beginning of the decisive decade of the 70's for the nascent progressive genre. With that panorama on the horizon, Robert Fripp and his band added a second chapter to their proposal with "In The Wake of Poseidon".

The album develops pieces of intense instrumental content that move between the peaceful and the luminous, as with the beautiful "Cadence and Cascade", an acoustic melody whispered by Gordon Haskell, accompanied by the piano of Keith Tippet and the sweet flute of Mel Collins, and also between the weary and forceful pace of "In the Wake of Poseidon (incl. Libra's Theme)", the backbone of the work, where Fripp's persistent melotron and Michael Giles' restrained drumming, give a bucolic frame to Greg Lake's demanding singing, exclusively on vocal duties for the occasion. An excellent song more than reminiscent of the British band's first work.

But "In the Wake of Poseidon" also constantly challenges conventional structures, pushing them to new limits to engender an unmistakable sound of their own, as with the wandering, jazzy "Pictures of a City (incl. 42nd at Treadmill)" featuring Collins' saxophone and Fripp's sanatorium keyboards and guitars, or the chirpy "Cat Food" and Greg Lake's strained singing amidst an equally intricate jazz instrumentation featuring a schizoid piano, but above all with the hostile "The Devil's Triangle", a dark and disturbing instrumental exercise.

The naked and brief "Peace", both at the beginning, in between and at the end, give an additional acoustic and reflective ingredient to "In the Wake of the Poseidon", a very good album that despite having been eclipsed in part by the repercussions and transcendence of its predecessor, knew how to shine with its own light.

3.5/4 stars

Another one of the brace of live releases put out by the latest incarnation of King Crimson. This works in a touch more of the 1980s King Crimson than Radical Action (To Unseat the Hold of Monkey Mind) through a cleverly reworked take on Indiscipline, Jakko Jakszyk finding a way to perform the song which suits his vocal style, which is smoother and somewhat more sincere in effect than the snarky tones of Adrian Belew on the original. By and large, it's another excellent live set, and perhaps flows somewhat better than Radical Action due to reproducing a live set organically rather than being assembled from several live shows.

King Crimson's most recent - and possible final - burst of activity has seen the group abandon studio activity more or less entirely, opting instead to work their craft live in shows integrating sounds from all phases of the band's long existence - and a few new compositions here and there that show influence from even newer sounds than that.

There's points here where Steven Wilson's proggier solo work, such as the Grace For Drowning album, seems to have rubbed off on Robert Fripp and pals a bit, which is perhaps no surprise given how many King Crimson members showed up on that album and how closely Steven Wilson and Fripp have been working together over the past few years to produce lovingly remastered and mixed reissues of Crimson classics.

That process also seems to have seen Fripp rediscover his love of some of the more overlooked eras of the band. In particular, Fripp has tended to pass over the run of albums beginning with In the Wake of Poseidon and ending with Islands when putting together later Crimson setlists - hailing as they do from an unhappy and difficult time in the band's existence when Fripp was flailing around somewhat to keep the project going in the midst of serious lineup instability. With fans and critics alike often giving those albums short shrift too, there wasn't any great expectation that this stuff would be revisited.

However, Fripp found a new appreciation for those albums when working on the new versions with Wilson, and the mid-2010s revival of King Crimson saw material from the era welcomed back into the repertoire, along with the return of Mel Collins, whose sensitive saxophone tones represented some of the best contributions to that era of the group and also spruces up the rest of the material to boot.

Jakko Jakszyk is the new lead vocalist and co-guitarist, slotting into the Adrian Belew role with a vocal style which is somewhat more smooth and less eccentric than Belew's - and so lends itself well to material ranging from across the portfolio. (One can't quite imagine Belew singing, say, Peace with the sincerity that Jakko manages here.)

Everything sounds fantastic - even The ConstruKction of Light, from one of the most unloved Crimson studio albums, gets a fabulous airing here, and you get an absolute treasury of material, ranging from avant-prog and borderline-metallic experimentation to lush symphonic workouts (drawing heavily on Red and In the Court of the Crimson King) to a deep dive into what had hitherto been forbidden zones of the Crimson Kingdom. On the technical level, audience noise is more or less eliminated, yielding not an album which is "live in the studio" but a live album with the crispness of a studio album.

Even Robert Fripp himself has been quite down on The ConstruKction of Light's original release, recorded as it was without the customary refinement of the material on the road. It's no surprise, then, that with this reissue of the album that he's been more interventionist than usual with the mix and mastering, perhaps trying to adjust the studio versions in light of subsequent lessons learned live.

On top of that, because some of the original session recordings were lost, Pat Mastelotto ended up rerecording the drum parts. Usually, I look askance when artists do this sort of thing, but this is a special case. For one thing, at least it's Pat rerecording Pat's parts, so it's not an act of disrespect towards the original performers on the level of, say, Ozzy Osbourne redoing the drum parts on some CD versions of his early solo albums with a different drummer. For another, it gives Pat a chance to rerecord the material using his customary hybrid acoustic/electronic drums, and with the experience of playing the pieces live.

In other words, short of the entire lineup from this era reuniting to rerecord the album all over again (or assembling an alternate take of the album from live recordings, as Fripp has apparently considered doing), The ReconstruKction of Light is about as close to a "do-over" of The ConstruKction of Light as we are likely to get. The end result is pretty good, with Pat behind the drumstool and Don Gunn behind the mixing desk performing a heroic rescue of the album. Let's say the ReconstruKction's worthy of three and a half stars, whilst the original ConstruKction was more of a 2-star number.