Robert Fripp

Robert Fripp's Diary

Wednesday 05 March 2003

#809, Hotel Designer, W. 44th., New York.


Driving in from Jersey, through the Lincoln tunnel, the skyline of Manhattan is now closer to the skyline that King Crimson saw for the first time in 1969. And it will change again. It is always a privilege, and overwhelming, to be in this remarkable & overwhelming city.

The hotel is close to the Town Hall, and contemporary designer minimalist. Fortunately, not to the extent that I can't find how to switch the lights on & off, as in the last Crim fashionable hotel. Three Crims are on the inner well of the building. This protects us from traffic noise. Traffic noise is replaced by the constant whining, humming & whistling of massive air conditioning units on the low roof at the bottom of the well. If we had a day off, I would have changed room as soon as we arrived. Long gigster experience confirms the observation that if you check in late, at night, your room enjoys at least one significant disadvantage - depressing view, no view, facing construction work, or having the constant loud whirring of air conditioning.

Now, mostly, unpacked and ready to greet the day & its concerns later - the Town Hall has been double-booked. This prejudices load-in, sound check & performance time.


The air conditioning is very loud.


The air conditioning is continuing very loud. Sir Arnold Bax has been set up to repel the intrusion with his sonata for flute & harp. Take that!

A walk around several blocks, past the Town Hall on 43rd. and then west along 42nd. A call to Barbara Willcox & to the Little Horse in Leeds from a modest corner establishment on 6th. & 45th. The specialty de la maison is very, very stale coffee. Coincidentally, I was the only person sitting at several tables. This was, however, an opportunity to make the calls. And then my Sister called from Atlanta. She will not be in San Francisco when we are there, and I will most likely be in Europe with Crimson when she visits England in June. C'est la vie. That's life! That's how the cookie crumbles! Shoganai.

Now back, with a pile of computing to compute.