Classic Rock Musings, Rants & Raves

If you haven’t heard (and it’s very likely you haven’t), King Crimson have slipped under the radar and reassembled for a few select shows. The only drawback is that the venues they’ve played so far have not been anywhere near Los Angeles, which is where I am. I can say with certainty that if they drift into my neighborhood, I will be there to root them on.

King Crimson is unlike any other band I know of. They’ve never really been part of the mainstream, never hit-bound, never conventional in any sense. The only constant has been Robert Fripp and his insurmountable drive for perfection. And that’s the way it’s always been. Any musician who passes through the ranks of King Crimson (and there have been many) has to understand this, or they will be shown the door.

Examples of this are plentiful. When things started to get ugly for bands like King Crimson in the late 70s, Fripp folded up shop without even a simple good-bye. Then, in 1981, Fripp and drummer Bill Bruford revived Crimson with two Americans. That set a whole new precedent because during their formative years, King Crimson was the quintessential English band.

They weren’t plying the blues like so many of their counterparts; they were twisting the form into a strange and wonderful amalgamation. When vocalist/guitarist Adrian Belew and bassist Tony Levin came aboard, Crimson’s sound evolved into something more modern, a little less morose, but still adventurous and quirky. I was initially put off because they reminded me more of the Talking Heads than the King Crimson of old. A lot of old fans actually had a problerm with this. But then I started listening closer, discovering the complexities lurking beneath the tight interplay.

After three albums, Fripp put on the brakes again, and King Crimson were swept into hibernation for another decade. When they returned, Fripp, Bruford, Belew and Levin were joined by two younger Americans, Warr guitarist Trey Gunn and drummer Pat Mastelotto. The double trio, as it was called, was short-lived, but stupendous in every way. I caught one of their shows in San Diego in 1995, and it remains one of my all-time favorite concerts.

The group sort of “fractured” after that, releasing a flurry of long and lumbering improvisational records with different members joining Fripp on various grooves. Then in 2000, King Crimson became a quartet, without Bruford and Levin. This lineup released two albums, the second being T[B]he Power To Believe[/B], which holds a special place in my heart. That’s because I was invited to hear it at a sushi bar on Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood.

Across the room from me were three members of King Crimson. We all sat, myself and about 30 other invited guests, transfixed by the force of this new music, immersed in the sonic sauce, as we guzzled down our Sapporos and dined on rainbow rolls and other delights. During a brief Q&A — a very rare treat — I asked Fripp what it was like to open for the Rolling Stones in 1969. “It was a remarkable event,” he replied. “But the Stones should have done some warm-up gigs before. For Crimson, one snapshot of the event was when the very large cardboard figure of Brian Jones fell and landed on Greg Lake’s head.” That brought the house down and lightened the mood. Later, I asked Trey Gunn if Fripp would sign my program from the 1995 tour, but he told me to put it away. “He’ll bolt if he sees that,” he warned me.

But the guy I really got to know that night was Adrian Belew. I’d interviewed him earlier that day, and he graciously told me about how his experiences with Frank Zappa, Talking Heads and David Bowie more or less lead him to the court of crimson king. But after a couple more Sapporos, Belew was suddenly sitting shotgun in my red Mustang and we headed up into the hills to a party. Tom Arnold was just exiting, and Adrian, myself and my buddy (who knew the host) wrangled ourselves inside. The next thing I knew, Adrian Belew and I were drinking martinis and trading stories with Dave Coulier, Bob Saget and then-Lakers power forward Robert Horry. It was a dizzying site, seeing the lead singer of King Crimson mingling with two cast members from Full House. Belew told me he had never been to a party like this before.

We dropped him off at his hotel in the wee hours of the next morning, and I haven’t had a chance to speak with him since. I did, however, catch two shows on The Power To Believe tour and no one looked any worse for wear. The performances were as dynamic and vibrant as ever. Trey Gunn left shortly after. “We were pretty much completing a phase in the life of the band,” he told me during an interview. And King Crimson went back to sleep.

But I knew, as everyone knew, they’d be back. News leaked out that Tony Levin had rejoined, but nothing immediate happened. A year or two later, I bumped into Levin at a tradeshow and asked him what was going on with King Crimson. “We’re rehearsing,” he said. I pressed him for more. What about an album? How about a tour? Levin smiled. “When Robert says we’re ready…”

So, we were back to the stop-and-start antics of Robert Fripp. So be it. It’s only been five years, and they’re playing a handful of dates. Along with Fripp, Belew, Levin and Mastelotto, they’ve added a second drummer, Gavin Harrison. I’ve heard bits and pieces, and it’s fresh, challenging, beautiful stuff as always. But for how long is anyone’s guess. Just as Trey Gunn explained to me, “As with all things Crimson, it’s kind of wait and see what really happens.” Oh boy, here we go again…

Anyway, have a peak at King Crimson from August 7 in Chicago.

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