Interview with King Crimson in Trouser Press
Date Submitted: 8-Feb-1995
Submitted By: Stephen Arthur (sarthur at lutece dot rutgers dot edu)
OLD CULT GROUPS NEVER DIE
(THEY JUST BECOME MORE POPULAR)
By David Fricke
TROUSER PRESS/March 1982
Where's Fripp? Where the hell is Fripp?" Five minutes into King Crimson's
opening-night late show at New York's Savoy, a bug-eyed post-hippie rock
'n' roll yahoo (distinguishing marks: tousled, black shoulder-length curls,
graying Genesis T-shirt, blue jeans that could probably walk by themselves)
bursts through the club's door, races through the foyer without giving the
bar a second's thought, and stops on a dime at the back of the hall. A few
inches shy of six feet tall, he cranes his neck every which way to see the
stage beyond the heads and shoulders of several hundred other Crimson
freaks who got there before him.
"Where's Fripp?" he howls, unable to spot the guest of honor. His friend,
standing next to him and a good head and a half taller, explains calmly
that Robert Fripp is playing his guitar seated on a stool at stage right,
just below his sight line. "Holy shit! He's sitting down," the yahoo
repeats (obviously unaware that Fripp has never performed in any other
position); awe and worship resonate in his cracking voice just as it does
in the hoots and hollers of "Crimson!," "Bruford!" and "Fuckin' A-a-y!"
echoing throughout the packed house. To the progressive/art-rock cultists,
battered by the scornful winds of punk!those who witnessed the hard-fought
artistic victories won by Crimson, Genesis et al. in the early and
mid-'70s, since coopted by pop hacks like REO Speedwagon and Styx!King
Crimson lives again. Long live the King.
But the return of King Crimson is not just a celebratory experience. As
with all things Crimson and Fripp, there are lessons to be learned,
preconceptions to reconsider. The odds are that the majority of fans at the
Savoy are of the original (pre-punk) Trouser Press variety: passionate
Anglophiles who wear their Crimson gear!buttons, vintage T-shirts, even one
denim jacket handsomely painted with the grinning red sun from the inside
cover of In The Court of The Crimson King!like badges of honor. They pay
loud, genuine respect to the physical expertise and imagination of drummer
Bill Bruford, whose previous exploits with Yes and the old Crimson already
comprise a sizable chapter of art-rock history. They probably know bassist
Tony Levin from his work with Peter Gabriel and on Fripp's own
Exposure. They may even be passably conversant with founder Fripp's forays
into ambient music and art-punk via Discotronics and the short-lived League
of Gentlemen.
All, however, share the conviction that that this is no idle cash-in
reunion. These paying customers always admired King Crimson not only for
what it played but what it stood for. Thus guitarist Adrian Belew (whose
credentials with Frank Zappa, David Bowie and the expanded Talking Heads
probably don 't carry much weight with this crowd) gets the same
enthusiastic reception for a string-bending wipeout as Fripp does for a
stirring psycho-solo. The audience hears the same commitment in material
from the recent Discipline album and new, as-yet un-recorded pieces that
they recognize in live reprises of "Red" and "Larks' Tongues Aspic, Part
Two."
For all the stick they get from a sniggering; press which considers them
diehard nostalgic sheep, this audience is built on trust. They are willing
to trust what they may notentirely understand!either in Fripp's music or
his copious philosophies that accompany it. And they trust King Crimson
because has never let them down.
The day after the Savoy show, Bill Bruford, 32, tries to explain that
trust. "What I've noticed from the audience is that they're perfectly happy
to accept us and our music," he says in that cheery British manner which
contrasts so starkly with Fripp's dry academic wit. "Obviously we brought
back those old fans by using name King Crimson. [The band was originally
dubbed Discipline, hence the LP title.] And it will take time, I think, for
the ideas to work through. But I don't think the old fans I met were
disappointed. They seemed to like it.
"What they are responding to is an effort by us; they know this is not a
reunion as such. Those are the two main points of this tour!that it is a
real effort and not a cheap reunion. And that is a good place to start."
Fripp, as usual, has a few words on the subject. "There is a new
possibility for a positive relationship between performer and artist that
hasn't been for about 12 years. We're finding a lot of people that don't
bear the scars of the excesses of the '70s, that are young enough [or just
willing enough?] to start over. Our very best reactions are coming from
those people who have no idea who King Crimson was or is."
The ones who do have an idea aren't just responding automatically. "I
thought when we played the States," Bruford continues, "there would be a
lot of shouting for 'Schizoid Man' and all that. There hasn't been. I've
heard a lot of cries of 'Bruford' and 'Frippertronics'!you know that crude
animal instinct an audience has!but nothing like a 'Schizoid Man.' I'm
pleased about that. I think people are underestimating our audience. They
are not sheep.
They do possess remarkable intuitive abilities. In the Times Square subway
station after the Savoy show, a group of hard-core Crimson fans dissect the
set; as their train pulls up they agree it was an unqualified success. "You
know," one of them announces as he steps into the subway, "Fripp is back
where he belongs."
Fripp could not agree with him more.
Robert has said repeatedly this is his dream band," says Adrian Belew,
lead-off batter in a full day of Crimson conversations at Island Records'
New York office. "He's been dreaming about it for four or five years. "
Belew has been dreaming about it for a lot longer than that. An affable
America with an Eno-esque hairline and chipper chipmunk face, Belew is a
King Crimson freak of long standing. "To suddenly be part of it," he raves,
"was like joining the Beatles or something."
His recruitment into the band was sudden enough. He and Fripp met at a
Steve Reich concert in New York, where Belew was cutting Lodger tracks with
David Bowie. They hit it off, and Belew's Ga-Ga band opened five New York
shows for the League of Gentlemen. Then when Belew passed through London
with Talking Heads early last year, Fripp popped the question. Bruford says
he and Fripp had been together as a "band" for two days when Belew entered
the picture.
Fripp claims Belew had reservations about joining the band. Belew describes
the situation as simply a crisis of confidence. "When I came into this
band, I was insecure for the first time in my 21 years of playing music. I
thought everything I was doing was a load of crap. I couldn't write songs
and I began to feel maybe I wasn't a singer. I honestly felt It didn't have
an artistic contribution to make, and I knew this was going to be a heavy
responsibility!to be singer, Lyricist, and share guitar responsibilities
with Robert."
Fripp and Bruford's encouragement only complicated matters since Belew held
both in considerable awe. The turning point came during rehearsals, by
which time the group included Tony Levin, who sacrificed lucrative session
work to join. Belew had been rehearsing with a Roland guitar like Fripp's,
trying to adapt his style of playing!a rubbery, feedback-heavy sound
compared to Fripp's liquid distortion and staccato peal-outs!to an
unfamiliar instrument; he was grappling with lyric writing as well. By the
third week Belew was a nervous wreck.
"Then I realized, 'Hey, I'm not playing my guitar. I'm just basically
sounding like Robert. Where's my voice in this?' So I picked up my
Stratocaster, restrung it, and everything changed.
"The next move was vocally. When I started making my sounds and doing my
thing, everybody kept saying, 'Yeah, Adrian, you're finally into the band.'
I only came into my own in the fourth week, just before the live concerts
started. "
It comes as no surprise that Belew!a loose, friendly guy!welcomed the name
change from Discipline to King Crimson. He draws a parallel between Fripp
and previous employer Frank Zappa, both disciplinarians of slightly
different mettle.
"Frank spells everything out for you; Robert is only giving a shape and an
outline, and everyone is free to make their own parts. But the kind of
approach you have to use to perform the material is the same. " Compare,
for example, the tracks "Discipline" and "Indiscipline" on the new
album. The former started out as a very Frippian guitar figure in 15/8
overlaying a kinetic 17/8 Bruford time signature. All Belew did was map out
his part with Robert and get it down pat.
" 'Indiscipline' started out as a vehicle for some pretty erratic
drumming. Originally it was almost a throwaway, a drum solo with a riff
hung on it. Eventually I came up with a little melody, Robert came up with
a line for himself, and at that point we thought no, it's still not enough.
"I knew what it needed was a vocal, but I couldn't think of anything to
sing. So I thought of doing these talk sections throughout the song. We did
that the very last day of recording. I took a letter my wife had written me
about a painting she had done. I just took all these lines out of context
without specifically naming what the subject was, then added a few lines of
my own. It's a very undisciplined song." (Belew has psyched out Crimson
freaks who may have already memorized those lines by adding to and
subtracting from them during performance.)
Another example of Belew's spontaneity is his impassioned relating on
"Thela Hun Ginjeet" (an anagram for "Heat in the Jungle," the song's
working title) of two close encounters!first with an angry mob of blacks,
then a couple of oppressive bobbies!outside the London studio where the
band was recording. He ran in immediately after, "so shook up and excited,"
and told his story to everyone in the studio. "Then Robert sneakily turns
on the tape recorder and asks me to repeat the story for several other
people. And that's what you hear on the record . "
Asked if he subscribes to any of Fripp's Gurdjieffian
small-mobile-intelligent philosophies, Belew (whose own solo album has just
come out on Island) admits that heavy statement is not his style. "I like
to leave things open, make a little fun out of it. I didn't know if that
would be accepted here. Fun didn't seem like the right thing for King
Crimson."
The Warner Bros. party line is that Robert Fripp is not doing any formal
interviews this tour. The 35-year-old guitarist had already undergone shock
interview therapy a few weeks prior to Discipline's release. In addition,
his recent tell-all diary in Musician Player and Listener leaves little to
the imagination, explaining everything you wanted to know about the new
Crimson but may have been afraid to ask. As for old Crimson stories, refer
to the three-part Frippiad published in early issues of Trouser Press.
Fripp does consent, however, to a brief chat to clear up a few previously
unexplained points!like the real nature of the experience" (as he put it in
Musician) by which he came to recognize Discipline as King Crimson. "I can
expect it if people want to be cynical and say Fripp's a charlatan. But
will; we began rehearsing just as a three-piece [before Levin joined I was
simply aware of this quality of energy which was the iconic aspect of King
Crimson available to this band if we wished to plug into it.
"It's a subtle experience but it's entirely real all the same. I don't feel
I have to apologize or explain what the band is. For me, it 's entirely
real. My sense is that this band is King Crimson. To me, it's painfully
obvious, and anyone who comes along to see it knows. You can't form King
Crimson; you can't reform King Crimson; you can't form a band and call it
King Crimson. For that band, it is not possible. This is a special band
because it's so ordinary."
"Ordinary" is not the word most people would use to describe original
lyricist Peter Sinfield's dazzling but ultimately hammy imagery and the
rich, high-decibel classicism of In the Court of the Crimson King, In the
Wake of Poseidon, and Lizard; the moody baroque drift of the hauntingly
beautiful Islands; the primal shriek and heavy-metallic improvisations of
the great Fripp/Bruford/David Cross/John Wetton quartet on larks' Tongues
in Aspic, Starless and Bible Black and live U.S.A.; or Red's last evocative
gasp. No, Crimson is no ordinary word. But as one of the original
art-rockers couldn't King Crimson be held partially responsible for the
subsequent excesses of rock in general (and art-rock in particular) Fripp
has railed against in recent years?
His reply is a flat-out no. "The movement of which Crimson was a founding
member !some will say the founding member! went off course. Crimson was
partly to blame because we continued to be a part of it, but when the time
came to stop we were the only band to stop. That proves one point about the
band's credentials. "
And what does Fripp consider the essential difference between the new and
old Crimsons or between this band and the short-term projects (League of
Gentlemen, for example) of his recently-completed Drive to 1981?
"This," he declares, "is the very first band I've formed where I've said I
wish to determine the parameters of the band's action. Not to be a
dictator, but more like a guy saying, 'This is the sports field; now go and
play sports and I'll play sports with you.' It's initiating a situation so
you can concentrate energy.
"There have been reservations. Adrian's reservations about getting involved
with this band is an entirely accurate observation. I had reservations
about getting involved with this band. It's not a band to take
lightly. It's a commitment."
At this point Bill Bruford enters the room, ready to join the fray. Fripp
and Bruford have had highly publicized differences in the past, and Fripp's
diary mentions friction early on in Discipline. What were Bruford's
reservations?
Fripp suddenly jumps up out of his chair. "It is time I must leave," he
announces. "Robert, there's no need to leave," Bruford insists, assuming
the question has caused some discomfort. "No," Fripp says, flashing one of
his enigmatic smiles, "it is not that I want to leave, but that I must. I
think I'll go out for some chocolate cake." And that was that.
I was the jilted lover before, the lover of King Crimson," Bruford
continues; his boyish, animated face reveals his enthusiasm for the
subject. Bruford joined King Crimson in late 1972, leaving a lucrative
association with Yes to follow Fripp's errant path. "There are a number of
groups, a fewish number," he said at the time, "but a number of groups that
are on the precipice in a way, beyond which there is a blackness, a kind of
void, and they're Peering into it hoping that it may go this way, but
knowing that it may not go this way at all, it may be completely wrong. I
feel that King Crimson is now one of those groups."
Crimson spent the next two years peering into that void; when Fripp ordered
a retreat in 1974, Bruford was crushed. "I was just getting emotionally
involved!although intellectually I know I shouldn't have!and when Robert
broke up the band, I was the jilted lover. I wanted to keep it
together. When Robert asked me to do this, my only suspicion was that I
didn't want to be jilted again."
Having led his own band for the last three years, Bruford actually welcomes
the opportunity to butt heads with Fripp. ("I probably give as good as I
get," he admits.) During Discipline's first days, though, Bruford says he
and the other band members dealt gingerly with Fripp, fearing the wrong
word or note might cause him to abandon the project.
"He was returning to the battlefield and I don't think anyone wanted to
scare him off. Some people still ask me why the first group stopped and I
still don't know. I've got my suspicions, but I'm no great psychoanalyst."~
For all their little spats, Bruford and Fripp go together like yin and
yang. To use his sports-field metaphor, Fripp describes a cricket pitch but
Bruford throws it. Or, as Bruford explains it:
"lt. starts out as a stream of negatives first off, which cracks many a
lesser man. 'Don't do this, don't do that, and I suggest you don't do
this. By the way, I also recommend you don't do that.' You're in a prison
and you've got to find your way out of things. I quite like that. I must
be a masochist or something, but I don't feel right unless I'm imprisoned
and told to find a way around it. That's the challenge." In other words,
discipline (according to the inscription on the back album cover) "is never
an end itself, only a means to an end."
What concerns Bruford among all this towering babble about first-division
bands, crises of confidence, the quality of Crimson energy, etc., etc. is
that King Crimson make music first, talk second. For someone with the gift
of gab, Fripp can be a man of few words. Bruford originally joined Crimson
when Fripp came to his house for dinner one night, carting his guitar and
amplifier along with him. After dinner Fripp suggested they play together
for a bit. That was the audition.
Ditto the new band. Fripp stopped by Bruford's house "and did the usual
thing: asked me, 'What would you do if I did this?' I'd say I'd do
something and he'd say " 'Wrong, try something else.'
"We didn't talk about it all that much, although you wouldn't know it from
all this talk. When musicians get together they to play their instruments
more than they tend to play their instruments more than they talk.
"You see, I enjoy playing," Bruford continues. "It's FUN. I just hope we
look at the cheerful, optimistic side of this and don't take ourselves too
seriously!just play some music and don't get too carried away with
discussion. I don't want people to feel they need a Ph.D. in behavioral
sciences to understand King Crimson. It's not like that ."
Bruford smiles, almost bashfully. "It's just a pop group with some good
ideas. The more we remember that, the more everyone will enjoy it."
Talking Heads probably don 't carry much weight with this crowd) gets the
same enthusiastic reception for a string-bending wipeout as Fripp does for
a stirring psycho-solo. The audience hears the same commitment in material
from the recent Discipline album and new, as-yet un-recorded.