"Starless" from Pittsburgh in 1974: at the time the lyrics hadn't been finalised, and JW is now at the front of the stage articulating a stream of intriguing syllables, phonetically of interest while semantically dubious. Were I Russian, Chinese, Japanese, Polynesian or a drummer, this might be a convincing and coherent expression of lyric writer Richard Palmer-James' intent. But were I to be competent in the English language, this flow of strange consonants & softly sibilant interjections would now be challenging my interpretive faculties.
Yesterday evening I began annual Christmas calls to old & close friends. Sometimes answering machines receive a cheery message, such as that of Al Carlisle: "I understand you're having breathing difficulties. Perhaps you might consider breathing through your ears, as have some succesful saxophone players? Otherwise, would Al's executors be kind enough to drop me a line?". Joe Satriani, Big Kahuna, will be greeted by "Freep! Freep! Ees Freep! Freeep! Freeep! Eeees Freeep!".
But fortunately I was able to speak personally with my two long-time friends from when Freep! Freep! was a New Yorker (1977-79): Karen Durbin & M. Mark. Both Karen & M. were editors for The Village Voice. M. went on to become the editor / publisher of The Voice Literary Supplement, and Karen became the Voice's editor. Both played an important role in catalysing Fripp's life at a shifting point.
I left The IACE at Sherborne House in July 1976, after 10 extraordinary months, with no intention of returning to the industry which I heartily loathed. In process of major transition, and open to the future, I sought to intensify time. London moved three times faster than Wimborne, New York moved three times faster than London, so go to New York and have nine Winburnian years in twelve months: this was Fripp's reasoning.
The beginning period in New York (February 1977) was actually spent on the road with Peter Gabriel, as Dusty Rhodes. In July, a telephone call by Eno & Bowie from Berlin, lead to "Heroes" and an inexorable return to living in The Front Line. The first summer in the city, the temperature hit 102 F. with humidity to match. And hard times of a continuing education.
I met Karin Durbin when she was writing an article on The Roches for the Voice. Karen was interested in interviewing the producer of their debut record on Warner Bros., and through Karen I met M. These two sharp, sophisticated & articulate women, and living in the city of New York, were a liberating and catalysing experience for an unsophisticated guitarist in their early thirties, recalibrating a course through life.
New York freed me from the stultifying external pressures of England & Englishness: a requisite affectation of mediocrity; a culture of envy, negativity & passivity; stinginess as an art form; the demand to apologise for my / our work - "getting above ourselves a bit, aren't we?"; cliched perceptions and trite commentaries to fix me / us in a (perceived) orbit & place in life - "who do you think you are?"; these manifestations of Englishness had no currency or necessity in New York City.
One defining moment: a Saturday afternoon in March 1978, during brunch at M.'s small apartment in the Village with Karen & M., and a visiting writer / editor from the West Coast, I took a decision: I was no longer prepared to censor my intelligence.
New York provided the geographical cure. The personal cure, reconciling & freeing myself from the internalised & archaic forms of Englishness, took longer. But this decision, one Saturday afternoon at M.'s, was crucial.
Karen had an apartment on West 20th. Street, which provided a home for her and for Fripp & Eno. That is, Karen's two cats, Fripp & Eno. And Eno eat his brother's food. Sometimes, when visiting New York (I returned to Wimborne & acquired Fripp World HQ in December 1979), this Fripp slept on Karen's Chelsea couch. As daylight came into the apartment would Fripp & Eno become frisky, hurtling in brotherly play around the lounge. Sometimes they ran over my head, as on one morning in July 1981 about 08.05. I sat up, seeing how it was that music comes into our lives; and, accompanying this seeing, a brief sense / glimpse of what lies behind music. My life as a professional musician changed irrevocably from that point.
So, many fond memories of friendship with Karen & M. blend with & into an exceptional period of hard liberal education.
Another telephone conversation: this morning with Hernan Nunez, back from a Guitar Circling project in Italy. Subjects discussed: Guitar Craft in Europe & Hernan's report on the Italian weekend; Guitar Craft in Argentina & Chile; the possibilities of a ProjeKct visiting Buenos Aires; & two Crafty Lifers in Buenos Aires who are unable to earn a living as musicians.
This focused a subject of discussion between Hernan and the team in Italy, and an ongoing question asked by many students in Guitar Craft: "How can I be a professional musician?". The quick answer is this: why? and you probably can't.
To earn a living as a professional musician means that people give you money. If anyone is going to part with their hard-earned pay, it's likely to be on the basis that:
1. The musician gives them something that they want; or:
2. The musician gives them something that they need.
The only possible alternative I can conceive is that of permitting the outbreak of charitable acts, which has precedents in several traditions (the Zen monk's begging bowl, for example). But this is not an intent I have recognised in the GC students and aspirant pros that have come to me for advice.
The two Argentinian Guitar Craft students referred to above: both are professional; that is, they are prepared to accept money for playing guitar and giving guitar lessons. Both of them are broke. Last year I advised them to go to GIT in Los Angeles, which provides an excellent education in the what-to-do expected / required of contemporary professional guitarists. Neither went.
On a personal level, I don't blame them: leaving home, family & friends is hard. I know. I haven't been at home much since 1967. So, what personal price is the aspirant professional musician prepared to pay? What limitations is the player going to set on the demands made of them by music and / or the professional life?
My advice remains the same, to nearly every aspirant player: have a richly enjoyable, sustaining & nourishing hobby. You need make no compromises with the music you play. If you become successful as a semi-pro, then you can move full-time if you wish. But if you have rent to pay, a wife and children who would like occasionally to be fed, you may well discover that you are prepared to lie (musically) for money. This is the shadow side of being a professional musician (cf Laurie Lee's poem "The Bird").
Responses to the DGM Guestbook:
1. The Award for Dopiest Post of Recent Weeks goes to Joe Anstett.
In reference to the illicit taper at a ProjeKct Four performance in Boulder, Joe moves to defend the right of bootleggers to spittle-free footwear when challenged in the midst of their illicit acts, and indicates the Venal Leader's clear hypocrisy when he involves himself in the editing and duplication of Mr. Bennett's recorded talks. What a creep, that Fripp!
However, Joe's argument is somewhat undermined when we consider the differing conditions of recording.
i) The recording of Mr. Bennett was with his explicit permission (if not at his initiative). Some of these recordngs were sold publicly before Mr. Bennett's death. All the recordings of Mr. Bennett to which I have access were / are legitimate, and with his approval.
ii) The recording of P4 in Boulder was in flagrant violation of a clear injunction & request to refrain. The posters on display to that effect did not appear in the theatre by accident: they were prominently & deliberately posted, at my direct instruction, so that no-one would be able to spuriously claim in public argument or discussion that they were unaware of the non-consensual nature of their act.
As a non-consensual act, the recording was illegitimate and a violation of the performers, the performance, and (I suggest) the audience.
This is a debate / discussion in which I have been publicly engaging in print since (at least) 1980. No bootlegger, or bootlegger's apologist, has yet presented a convincing argument as to why & how any non-consensual act might be considered legitimate. As an illegitimate act, it is indefensible.
The taper's acknowledgement is surely: I wanted to do this, so I did it without regard for the feelings & concerns of those I am violating; and I don't care.
iii) A further argument, for advocates of spittle-free footwear, might be: "But DGM releases bootleg recordings of King Crimson!". My responses to this possible (and feeble) argument:
a) DGM honours the injunction: turn a seeming disadvantage to your advantage.
b) An action, any action, bears the intent of its agent. "Bootlegging" in 1969 was an act of relative innocence. There was (in my view), no intention to steal from the air; although inevitably the performance would have been affected in the subtler dimensions, where performances reflect / mirror the "real" world.
c) Contemporary recording is accepted by some performers, rejected by others. In performances of which I am a part, if anyone feels they have "the right" to record, you don't. If you feel "the need" to record a performance which you attend, please go to someone else's performance.
d) I am no longer prepared to absorb the desires of others, particularly where this undermines my integrity and compromises my aim.
2. Problems for the Lacanian friend of the poster:
What is "real"? and "There is / are no absolute/s".
My sympathy is with anyone who has difficulties in discussing / debating what might be "real" or "objective". How to define "reality" in sufficiently satisfactory terms to undertake a dialogue (a debate is inevitably adversarial) with anyone who rejects concepts / notions / ideas of the "real world"? What are the possibilities of empirically verifying the "real"? Surely the "real" smacks too much of a vagueness & "mysticism" which isn't / aren't open to clear discussion between thoughtful people? Comments:
i) My personal approach is to begin with the experiential. Like, childbirth and dying. Both are universal and, to me, utterly mysterious while practically verifiable. Each birth & death is unique, and universal. Both processes, once accepted and underway, are inevitable. This leads to questions regarding the quality with which we live and die. Whatever opinions we hold while living, eventually, necessarily, we experience dying.
So, my own simple answer to the question "what is real?" begins with this: "Anything to do with the necessities of living and dying". This addresses degrees of necessity or, alternatively expressed, the quality and intensity with which we embrace our living and dying. Practically, this moves the focus of our enquiry to the more & less necessary.
ii) "Mystical" experiences (alternatively, perceptions of more and less subtlety) ARE open to reasoned debate - but only between those who are practised to a sufficient degree of proficiency / competence in the particular area of endeavour being discussed.
Religions present "truths" to their congregations / communities: the "what-to-do" of living. Living traditions present to the seeker / enquiring sceptic / student what needs to be done to test these "truths"; that is, the "how-to-do" the "what-to-do". Why bother to "debate" meditation with someone who hasn't sat on the mat for at least ten years? Otherwise, they have an insufficient experiential background. Even after ten years, the penny will only be about-to-be-beginning to drop. After 21 years, then a dialogue may have value.
If I were a research scientist, I would undertake a sufficient period of training in that particular discipline, fulfilling the instructions & injunctions to meet the consensus view as to what constitutes competence in that field. Then, I would present the results of my research to a community of peers and elders for their adjudication and consideration. Otherwise, my opinions are only degrees of tosh, and a relativity of dribble. (Cf. Ken Wilber, particularly "The Eye of Spirit").
We may go to concerts but we don't assume to be sufficiently qualified to authoritatively engage with a concert soloist on the "realities" of what they do, how they do it, why they do it, and (more particularly in this context) their experiencing of what they do. Although a "connoisseur" would be able to engage in dialogue up to a point.
iii) One of the characteristics of sound is that it carries / bears the intent (non-intent, and degrees of intent) which inform / direct / initiate that sound. Non-intentional sound is best described as noise. One form of intentional sounding is music.
On occasions, I know the music being presented to me is real. If you were to ask me -"How can you know this is real?" - I would answer: "I have been in this place; it is where music arises; I know this perfume". Then, you would gauge the merit of my judgement / opinion by examining / assessing my life & living of it, my work, & my way of working. The listening community would then form a consensus as to the authority of (in this example) Fripp, or whichever person is presenting a judgement. The judgement may be accepted as authoritative, rejected as speculative / unformed / immature / plain wrong, and / or somewhere on the continuum between the two.
The aim which directs the striking / sounding of a note is born on / carried within the note; the note also bears the impress of the personal state & condition of the player sending that note out into the world (their physical health, intensity of presence, capacity for feeling, quality of knowing and understanding). That is, the action of sending the note outwards into the world is directed by the player's intent, and qualified by their being.
You won't find this referred to in textbooks on music, but it is "real" nevertheless. If the enquiring sceptic, engaging in a spirit of critical goodwill, were to ask me to substantiate this claim, they would ask me to present a repeatable "scientific" experiment to "objectively" verify the truth of the proposition.
One of the "repeatable experiments" in Guitar Craft which demonstrates the proposition above is known as "circulations". The full form of this particular "experiment" is called "The Exercise of the Transmission of Qualities". Each "circulation" is different, yet all are the same. The exercise is very practical, exceptionally subtle, and open to all levels of playing experience and qualities of perception.
iv) The intellect is a poor key to open a door to the "real world". Doors closed to the mind sometimes swing open in front of a hungry heart, and sometimes even to those who follow their feet while walking.
v) The statement "there are no absolutes" is itself an absolute statement. If I accept this statement as true, then:
a) There are no absolutes, because this statement is true.
b) There is an (at least one) absolute, because this statement is absolute.
So, if both these statements are true, may there be a continuum between the two extremes, of degrees of absoluteness & degrees of relativity (non-absoluteness?). This would give relativity as a bottom line, the absolute as a top line, with the absolutely relative and the relatively absolute in between:
the absolute
the absolutely relative the relatively absolute
the relative
Experientially, I would ask myself: what do I know of the "the" absolute? the relative? In a post-modern world, we may be prepared to accept that contradictory impulses might be equally true, as the original statement rather implies. If statements are true, both relatively and absolutely, we may be prepared to accept shades of grey - like, the truly relative & the relatively true.
Is the "true" capable of bearing differing degrees of quality, quantity & intensity? May I experience contradictory impulses simultaneously, like weeping with remorse while laughing with joy?
The twentieth century has been a century (at least partly) governed by the notion of relativity. In my own life and living, points along the continuum tend to be at the forefront of my experience. So, approaching the absolute statement that there are no absolutes, I note that notions of relativity are easily applied to questions of quantity, but more difficult when we consider questions of quality.
For example, the fragrance of a rose. Is this absolutely the scent of a rose, or relatively the scent of a rose? If the fragrance is weak, is this no longer the scent of a rose? I accept that the fragrance may be more or less intense, more or less blended with adjoining fragrances, but incline to the view that, if a rose is a rose is a rose, then a fragrance is a fragrance is a fragrance, regardless of how much of it there is available to my nose.
23.05
The Adagio from Brahms Violin Concerto in D major is warbling gently behind me, recently returned from final grocery shopping before Christmas.
David Singleton's present arrived in Salisbury today, and I was able to collect it in time for Christmas. The centre of Salisbury is almost unreachable by car at the best of times. The official policy of encouraging visitors to ride to Salisbury on public transport is unrealistic if you live in the country or, as Indeg Singleton will tell you, if you are shopping with four young children.
On the way home I popped in to visit Pierre & Vivien Elliot, off to London tomorrow, to bid them the best of the season. Reports of Mr. Gurdjieff, first hand from people who were with him, arrive with directness and power. Tonight, I was happy to view Pierre's orchid, which he proudly lead me to inspect in the kitchen, and visit with two post-mature friends.
Now home, I have hung lights on the landing library and putting Christmas cards on the bookshelves in this study. Most years at this time I am jet-lagged & exhausted, just back from travelling. This year, for the first time, I have been sufficiently awake to take delight in opening & displaying the cards.
"Let us embrace our mistakes as friends and teachers."
