Monday 8 March 2021

Red - King Crimson

From time to time, and by and large this is a process that first made itself visible to me around my  mid-twenties, my musical horizons and my musical sensibilities undergo a realignment. Over the past couple of years, I sense that I have gone through one such phase. If my musical world-view is like a living creature, then its sinews become stronger and more dextrous, and the process feels like a natural companion to the cycles of life.

Part of this latest renewal was fuelled by my properly exploring the music of King Crimson for the first time. All of their albums from the period 1969-1974 are noteworthy in their own right but Red, released in 1974, warrants special praise and examination.

I think that one of the things which sets Red apart is its deceptiveness.  It perhaps has a reputation as 'uncompromising' and 'challenging', and early exposure can reinforce this notion, but more careful inspection reveals the marrying of differing tendencies. Moments which might induce a sense of foreboding are tempered by flourishes of melody and finesse. Importantly, the instruments are allowed space in which to breathe, and John Wetton's purposeful but soothing vocals introduce an extra dimension.

It is worth noting that even before this record was released, King Crimson had disbanded, a move which in fact turned out to be a mere hiatus. I have heard it postulated that this move demonstrated great savoir-faire, by anticipating dramatic shifts in the direction of rock music. From my point of view, in any just, rational world King Crimson should not have had anything to fear had they remained together.

Red is portentous, in the creative and constructive senses of the word, and indicative of a cultural time and place, but without the posturing. Just look at some of the people who 'name-check' the record. Its aesthetic, and the brand of edgy and challenging prog-rock which it exemplifies, endure brightly. King Crimson's music from this period has a curious and invigorating quality. Melodic yet propulsive, organic yet modernistic, crystalline yet strangely calming. 

The original LP had just five tracks, but it doesn't need any more to make it fulfilling and impactful. 

The (instrumental) title track really does set the tone. For 1974, this is heavy stuff.  Bill Bruford's work on drums and percussion definitely imbued the group with additional depth and Robert Fripp's guitar teeters on the verge of losing control. There is a menace and a sense of purpose which for me are emblematic of Crimson at this stage of their evolution.

'Fallen Angel' benefits from a strong melodic base, an endearing John Wetton vocal and a reflective, almost wistful quality, but it also emits some of the darkness and anger which permeates the record as a whole.

In my estimation 'One More Red Nightmare' is the centrepiece, epitomizing the 'duality' which is one of the album's most striking traits. The saxophone passages, some 'surreal' percussion, the driving guitar riffs and the energetic vocal all form part of the mixture. 

The track 'Providence' is very 'experimental', it must be admitted, but it does have its pleasing moments, and the vitality of what surrounds it perhaps excuses some indulgence.

And then to 'Starless', one of the group's signature songs. The central guitar motif is highly lyrical, seductive almost, and the separation between instruments, and between instruments and vocals, is in keeping with the album's general orientation. Saxophone is employed again, this time more softly, and greatly enriching the palette. The 'middle section' of the track might seem uninspired at first, but stick with it! 

This is the kind of album which reveals more of its secrets and its dark recesses with each successive listen. Not always a comforting experience, but invariably a rewarding one.





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