A small furore – perhaps just a little rainfall in a teacup – has apparently broken out online about the cover for the limited edition Penn State Record Store day vinyl release – a cover based on a drawing of Robert Fripp by my son Ben. The first part of that is easily resolved. There is absolutely nothing AI about that image. Ben is as obsessed with drawing as his father is with music. He has founded a very successful company, Bearhand Design Limited, and all of its artwork is hand-drawn. I have seen him sitting in front of his tablet until the early hours day after day constantly drawing. So, on his behalf, I find the accusation of “AI” somewhat hurtful, belittling long hours of skilled, loving work.

While not AI, his work is, however, “digital”, which may be part of the confusion. The first work that I persuaded him to do for me – the artwork for the Billy G graphic novel – was drawn “analogue” on paper, (and those original drawings are amongst my more treasured possessions). Those line drawings were then scanned into a computer in order to be coloured with added text. With the advent of computer tablets, he now draws straight into a computer, just as most musicians record digitally rather than analogue. But every stroke remains hand-drawn. He is a “digital artist”. But certainly not an AI drone.

A better conversation might be “Why this cover?” and “Why Ben?”. Ben’s involvement with King Crimson has largely been because his father has abused his parental rights and persuaded him on more than one occasion to break away from his far more lucrative clients and help out in a crisis. The first came in 2014, a time when I had little involvement with the prospective new King Crimson. I was contacted by the then-manager Andy Leff who said that they were announcing a tour, and that the promoters needed artwork. That very evening, as I recall it. And there was nothing. No artwork, not even any photographs of a band that had barely begun rehearsals. So I grabbed my son, the one person who would find it hard to refuse such a plea, and said – “we need an artwork concept, right now!” And that same day, he handed me the “Elements of King Crimson” with a chemical symbol for each band member - a much-admired concept that endured throughout the life of that band. I know many fans created their own symbols. Later that year, I attended the King Crimson concert in Seattle, sitting beside a senior management figure from Starbucks, who seeing the symbols said “That is some of the best branding I have seen by any major rock band”.  So kudos, Ben.

Over the years, when similar shit has hit the fan, I have called in similar favours, and he has always responded. Rather than being the case of a father helping his son, this has much more been the case of a very busy son digging his father out of a hole.

And so to the latest release. We had accepted the idea of a series of Record Store Day vinyl releases, and also the idea that these should have their own aesthetic. I met with Robert in early January and we discussed the options.  The likely route would have been to choose a new painter from Robert’s wonderful artwork collection, as PJ Crook was used for many years, and Francesca Sundsten was used for the most recent line-up, beginning with the Cyclops. And Hugh O’Donnell is expert at using such imagery once we have it. Unfortunately, Robert’s cupboard was finally bare, and we would not have had time to source and license in from elsewhere.

On the office wall, I have a drawing of Jimi Hendrix that Ben did for a skateboard company – and, lacking other immediate routes, I suggested to Robert that, if a different aesthetic was needed, we could perhaps ask Ben if he would do a series of drawings of the band members, based on period-correct photographs which we could send him. The second stage of that plan involved me once again prevailing upon my son to temporarily set aside his other work to draw a picture that could become part of an ongoing series.  There is an old adage that “if you want something done, find a very busy person”, and it certainly seems true in his case. I am happy to pin my colours to the mast and predict it will make a wonderful series.  But, as ever, the market will decide. I assume the inaccurate accusation that the cover seems “AI” is another way of some saying that they don’t like it. Which is, of course, everyone’s prerogative. Personally, I look forward to the moment when I can make a poster of each of the drawings themselves, without the text that is added for the vinyl, to add to the walls of our office. With everlasting thanks to my very talented son, for being willing to heed my call.

On Saturday, I went to see Bruce Springsteen in Manchester: the concerts that have been making the news due to his polemic against the current state of America, and Trump’s ‘dried out prune’ response.  Jon, who accompanied me, has seen Springsteen about thirty times. It was my first. Unlike my trip to see McCartney a short while ago, where I knew intimately every note he would play, I know very little of Springsteen’s music. Probably about five hits. And while I love “Because the Night” and “Born To Run”, “Born in The USA” leaves me largely cold, as did much of his recorded catalogue the few times I have tried. Jon – reasonably mega fan – joked that it would not be too cruel to describe them as the best bar band in the world. And to this lover of the perfectly crafted song, melody and particularly harmony, (Rodgers and Hammerstein, The Beatles, Paul Simon, The Beach Boys), much of Springsteen’s music has never spoken to me. In the same way that when the modern church replaces a wonderful hymn like “Dear Lord and Father of Mankind” with someone strumming on an E major chord, although I am sure the music is just as spiritual, it leaves me cold.

I have chosen that comparison for a reason. Because Springsteen live is simply awesome. One of the best shows I have ever attended. And it was like an evangelical event. In fact, the closest analogy I can give is to listening to Billy Graham preach. It touches the parts that other beers cannot reach. A roughly three-hour concert, eighteen people on stage. Each song often following a similar pattern. A verse, a chorus, and then bang everyone kicks in. A saxophone solo. Sometimes you think it’s the end, but no, on it goes again. And as the final chord is played, there is a shout of “one, two, three, four” – often in exactly the same tempo – and another song begins without a moment’s pause. On and on and on. A rising fervour that is rarely allowed to dissipate, conducted by a supreme master performer. Where someone of 75 finds the energy, I have no idea.  A modern-day troubadour describing the America that he knows and loves –“land of hopes and dreams”. And, along with his hope, retaining a youthful anger. “My City of Ruins” sings on in my head.

Quite a night. Jon is returning tomorrow to do it all again.

We touched on this on the “Cruise to the Edge”, in discussing the notion that "Music plays the musician" – the music has a force of its own, and the musician is a vehicle for its expression rather than the other way round. And I tried, and failed I think, to express what I have written above. It may be no clearer this time.

As mentioned in the previous posts, I have recorded a very quick, somewhat embarrassing, demo of a song “Life’s a Boat”, and am seeking mass participation in the recording process. Here is the video. The sales pitch goes as follows:

Life’s a Boat. And we are all in the same boat together. So, in a world that seems determined to build walls, what better than a song where we all come together to contribute whatever we can. Robert Fripp described THRAK as the sound of 117 guitars almost hitting the same chord simultaneously. So how about 117 guitars playing the simple backing chords. Or maybe 1,117 guitars. Or 117 people, from 117 different countries or states. Some of the parts are so simple that a one note/one finger performance is all that is needed. Others are more complex. And there is always adding your voice to the chorus.

Anyone interested should please contact lifesaboat@thevicar.com. Let’s see if we can “get the thing to float”

I am sure that virtually everyone following online must be a musician of some kind, so please get in touch. And maybe, like an old-fashioned chain letter, if you are interested you can share it with some else who might also contribute. Whether the boat floats or sinks is now in your hands.

The third part of the cruise experience is the holiday. It’s a huge privilege to be paid to go on a cruise, with completely free days on the two days when the ship docks to let you ashore.

The first stop was at the Dominican Republic. When we arrived, another Norwegian Cruise liner was already there, somewhat unfortunately as the small island therefore suffered a veritable deluge of cruisers.

As you first make your way ashore, they have built their own small resort, complete with shops, a “beach” and a “lazy river”. When we first walked through, I couldn’t escape fast enough (but watch this space!). We went in search of the historic castle which Indeg had noted online (without the help of the numerous locals offering to guide us). And from there to the centre of town, to hopefully be followed by a real beach for a swim.

The first two went very well. And we did find a beach, but we could see a man standing less than knee deep a long way out, so not a place for swimming.

So after a pleasant walk, we made our way back, and enjoyed several hours sunbathing and floating round…the afore-mentioned lazy river.

The second stop was Great Stirrup Cay, a very small island owned by the cruise liner. This stop had the added excitement that it was accessed by launches from the side of the ship.

Again, it was perhaps not a resort that we would have chosen – but here I was, with my lovely wife swimming together in the Caribbean, and being paid for the privilege. One of those moments when you just have to say “thank you”.

Following the day at Great Stirrup Cay, the ship made its way back to Miami overnight, and began disembarking at the slightly ungodly hour of 7 o’clock in the morning. All cabins to be vacated by 8am and by 9 o’clock, they are keen that everyone has disembarked, so that they can prepare for the next departure. 

There was an impressive gathering of taxis lined up ashore, waiting to carry the crowds, several thousand large, away.

Tony Levin had mentioned that disembarking, caught in endless queues might be particularly tiresome, and an unfortunate end to a good trip. Fortunately, Robert’s cabin came with priority disembarkation and we were personally escorted from the ship. So spoilt to the end.

On the flight home, returning to reality and a political climate which seems to be determined to fragment and divide us, I compared this with the camaraderie on board. In life, we are all in the same boat together. And in the case of the cruise, it was a real boat with people from many different countries and different walks of life working together. So what better than a song called “Life’s a Boat” with mass participation and co-operation from as many people from as many countries as possible. I have considered this before, but a real ship, with such a varied range of artists, “sealed the deal”. I would be running scared if I did not commit to it. And I should be scared because the first necessary and inevitable stage will be exposure to public ridicule by making a quick demo of the track available. And the guide vocal goes an octave beyond my natural range (and it’s not too good even while I am within my range).

So part four, the legacy of the cruise, will be EXPOSURE TO PUBLIC RIDICULE.

Robert and I were contracted to do two shows on the cruise, on days two and four. The promoters also asked to show the King Crimson movie on the cruise- which seemed an excellent idea, with a perfect audience. For some reason, however, it was never scheduled - although Shawn of the Dead, good movie though it is, did get a showing. Go figure.  

More pertinently, and worryingly, a few days before departure, I received an email about an additional obligation: the hour-long fan “photo experience” – something we knew nothing about, and which, as one might imagine, set numerous alarm bells ringing.  I queried the email and was assured that such a photo experience was demanded “in all of the contracts”. Not in ours, it wasn’t. Nor indeed had our agent heard any prior mention. And a good thing too, because had it been in the contract, I might well have encouraged Robert in his likely desire to avoid it. When you are locked into something you dislike, you instinctively look for a way out. Once we had established that there was, in fact, no contractual requirement, the question was then a different one - whether in a spirt of goodwill and involvement, we should embrace the fan photo experience. Which we did – taking the advice of the organizers who recommended sunglasses, as there would be an hour of constant camera flashes. Sadly, even with sunglasses, I think I would make a very poor stand-in for the Blues Brothers.

For the shows themselves, my main concern once on board was to ascertain that the technical crew could definitely show the various clips stored on my computer on a large screen behind us. In the numerous technical emails before our arrival, I had been assured that this would “probably be alright”. Not quite the reassurance you need when it is a major part of what we do.

That hurdle safely negotiated, bar stools, although somewhat taller than our norm, were acquired, leaving just the shows themselves. These had a strange seating arrangement, where everyone with an orange or a green badge had a pre-arranged seat. One for our “orange show”, the other for our “green show”. The rules stipulated that even if there were unused seats (because someone didn’t fancy meeting “that awful man and his manager”,) the seats had to remain empty for the entire show. You thus perform to a hall with some empty seats, while I would regularly meet other cruise-goers saying that they would love to have seen us if they could. And some of the filled seats were inevitably up the gods, where geographically it was difficult for them to ask a question. I had already noticed on the Cruise to the Edge website that some of the less expensive internal cabins (no seaview) also came with restricted viewing at shows (can’t see the artists either).

The other ramification of the seating plan was that fans, knowing they had a pre-arranged seat, tended to turn up absolutely on time or indeed slightly late for shows. In the ten minutes before the show starts, we play outtakes from the Crimson movie (including one gem where Bill Rieflin compares his role in King Crimson to the unliked, unwanted, but nevertheless necessary kidney bean in the three bean salad). And both times, that movie played to an essentially empty hall with most people only catching the last few minutes,as they came in almost as we walked on stage.

I will leave comments on the shows themselves to those who attended. From my perspective from the stage, I enjoyed both, even though on the second show Robert was feeling increasingly unwell. A very good venue for what we do.

Which just leaves PART THREE leading to PART FOUR : EXPOSURE TO PUBLIC RIDICULE.

I finally have a moment to report about The Cruise to The Edge from the beginning of the month. A very good experience – probably easiest covered in three bits – which means that I can leave the terrifying consequences to the third part.

PART ONE : Going on a Cruise.

What’s not to like? I spent two pleasant days with my wife, Indeg, and Robert at the Intercontinental Hotel in Miami, right on the seafront, so that my morning jog took me round the bay (complete with stranded boat)...

...followed by a much less energetic meander up and down the swimming pool.

On the Thursday morning, we were collected and driven a couple of miles to the ship. They had an excellently arranged quick boarding priority for artists - except - crucial mistake - that they dropped us at the completely crowded Atrium, thronging with what seemed to be the majority of the two thousand music fans on board, while we needed to be one door further long at the lifts, which would then whisk Robert away to the sanity of his suite on the fourteenth floor. The room for my wife and I, on the eleventh floor, was somewhat less palatial, but nevertheless a good home-from-home...

...complete with a balcony from which we could see Miami gently disappear and the ocean come into view. The sounds and view of the sea remain as beguiling as ever.

The ship began by very slowly working its way past the houses and squillion dollar yachts on the waterway. In a world with an ever-larger wealth divide, here it was writ large -watching those multi-million dollar homes float past from the balcony of a luxury cruise liner.

We left port at about 5pm, and I think the opening act, Rick Wakeman, took the stage at 6pm. These cruises are conceived such that the performances occur in international waters (meaning that performance visas and taxes are not needed), but I suspect that he must have been close to being firmly within US waters. Indeg and I had dinner with Robert in the “artists’ dining room” on the 6th floor, taking advantage of the lull while Rick was in stage. We then made the rookie mistake of leaving the dining room at about 7.30, just as Rick's concert ended, with the entire audience of a thousand people heading to the same small five lifts that we needed to take us up eight floors. If Robert was going to be eaten alive by all the fans on the ship, this was the moment. Happy to report that he survived, outwardly unscathed.

Fellow cruise passengers do feel that they have the right to your attention and a shared intimacy that they wouldn’t under other circumstances. Part of the appeal, I am sure. And under circumstances, Robert and I wouldn’t have stood for an hour’s photo-session, being photographed by a seemingly endless stream of people, all of whom began by saying “I’m sorry” as they walked towards us for their photo-opp.

The Cruise can best be described as a water-based music festival – with performances happening continuously on about five different stages., including the outside "pool stage".

We had two performances scheduled, one in the afternoon of the 5th April our first full day at sea, and one in the evening of the 7th – in PART TWO.

I

Q: What is a question?
RF: An answer seeking to be known. More accurately, the answer seeks to be known by, to and within itself, by presenting itself as a question.

From one point of view, question and answer are inseparable.
Essentially, the question is its answer.

From another point of view, the answer is in the future, reaching back and pulling the question towards it.
The answer already is, and becomes a question so we may ask it.
We are invited to engage the question, and participate in its process of becoming.

The question seeks an orientation, a direction, and a movement towards the answer. Simultaneously, the answer sets the trajectory of the question.

For question and answer to be brought together, there is a creative element.
As with any creative action, the action is outside time while unfolding within the time stream.

II
The questions we ask direct the course of our lives.

A question expresses a search; more accurately, a searching.

A question is singular. It cannot take the form of either / or.

The right question attracts the right answer, accepting that the right answer is leaning back and guiding the right question towards it.

There are different qualities of question.
The quality of the question determines the quality of the answer.
Necessary questions have heat: they may even be on fire - these are burning questions.
Necessary questions are practical.

There are also different kinds of question.

So, what is the question?

III
To ask a question sets a process in motion.

As with any process, there are three main stages: the beginning, the middle and the end.

The first main stage:  Determining the question.
The second main stage: Holding the question.
The third main stage: Asking the question.

Each of these stages also have three stages: the beginning of the beginning, the middle of the beginning, the end of the beginning, and so on.

The beginning of the beginning, is the question.

Determining the question:

What is my question? I articulate the question.

Why is this my question? I weigh the necessity of the question: is it real, useful, necessary? What is my aim in asking this question? What purpose does an answer serve?

Holding the question:

How may I address this question? I engage, enter into, and examine the question. What is involved? Do I wish to have an answer? 

To whom may I address this question? I seek a higher authority than my own, either within or without.

Asking the question: I ask the question.

I surrender to the question.
I surrender to the answer.

The question is answered:

I honour the answer – I act on it.
This action may be internal, external, more likely both.

Always, we act on the answer. Without this, the question withers.
If we are not prepared to act on the answer, better not to ask the question.

III

The right answer changes something on the inside.
Change on the inside makes possible a change on the outside.
Change on the outside is not inevitable.
A change has taken place in potential, while not yet expressed in form and time.
So, something has become possible, and may become actual.

IV
The question holds the answer.

Sometimes, as a gift, we are given an answer to the question we should have asked, not the question that we did ask.
Injunction: Clarify.
Sometimes, we are given the gift of no answer at all.
Injunction: Persist.
Sometimes, we get silly answers.
Injunction: Discriminate.

If we have been present within an action, it is within our experience.
If we are present within our experience, our experience is present within us.
If this is so, we may re-enter and interrogate our experience.

The answer holds the question.

Bredonborough, Middle England;
Sunday 23^rd. March, 2025.

Fans
A series of Questions for Robert from a Pesty Questionier VII

PQ: You’ve made lots of comments, for decades, about fan relationships. Why?
R: The main aim is to understand my life as a working player.

PQ: How does that relate to fans?

R: To understand any situation, activity, or undertaking, you have to see the whole picture of the operation. For the working player, the four primary areas to investigate are music, musicians, audiences and the industry. Then, look at the mechanics of how they relate to each other, how they work together, and how they work individually within their own limited spheres of interest.

For example, you have the relationship – music, musicians, audience. What happens when that relationship is mediated by commerce? Does money changing hands alter how musicians and audients engage with each other? Does the relationship between musicians alter when money is involved? And, does the music change when money becomes part of playing music?

If we’re looking at the tetrad of the Music System, we get the dyads…

Music – Musician
Music – Audient
Music – Industry
Musician - Audient
Audient – Industry
Industry - Musician

The triads…

Music – Musician - Audient
Music – Musician – Industry
Music – Audient - Industry
Musician – Audient – Industry

If we apply triadic analysis, each of the four triads have six ways of relating to each other. That is, six kinds of relationship within each triad.

PQ: That’s a bit intellectual.
R: Kinda. Each of the triads have a kind of feel, a kind of flavour. This comes from experience. It’s impossible to get a handle on them unless we move out of the head, get our hands dirty in the “real” world. When we are in “real” world situations, the confusion in situations become clearer, we get a better sense of the mechanics when things bang together.

The relationships get more sophisticated when we look at the different qualities of each of the terms. For example, with a musician…

Genius

Professional                      Master Musician

Happy Gigster

The same with qualities and degrees of audients, music, and business persons. Such as managers. The history of some groups and artists are inexplicable unless you know the management and business history.

When we take all these factors into account, and there is no final answer to any of it IMO, the mechanics of our subject of interest become clearer.

PQ: Alright. Back to fans. Surely fans have the right to be recognised and acknowledged?

R: Complex question. In their role as audients, honourably addressing the responsibilities and obligations that go with being Mother to the Music, the performer honours the role of audient, respecting the person accepting and discharging that role, knowing and embracing the impersonal yet intimate nature of coming-together within the performance as an act of music, or act of musicking acknowledging Christopher Small’s use of the verb.

The Act of Music is the Music.

PQ: That is a bit complex.
R: The difficulties begin when the roles, filled by performer and audient, move outside the defined performance space. Then the roles move from the impersonal to the individual and become personal.

PQ: What’s wrong with that?
R: If that’s your question, you might equally ask - what’s right with that? The form of your question makes it difficult for me to answer the question within your question, which you didn’t ask.

PQ: OK. So what do you think my “inner question” is?
R: “Surely the common humanity between fans and the subject of their interest is worthy of being recognised and acknowledged?”.

PQ: If I did ask that question, how would you answer?
R: Yes.

PQ:That’s straightforward.
R: When the question is straightforward, a little space opens between the question and its answer, so less barrier to an answer being given.

PQ: Well, running with this. You have a terrible reputation for how you deal with fans. Have you ever put yourself out to meet the fans? To “recognise and acknowledge their common humanity with you?”.
R: Quick answer, yes.  This was a personal aim for the Frippertronics touring, in Europe and North America, of 1979. A very demanding four months, and commensurately rewarding. A little historical background…

In 1969 I felt that audients and players, punters and performers, we were all on the same side. This was the last gasp of the counter culture, of 1960s idealism, which didn’t quite make it into 1970. We were all there to support Music, knowing that “Music can change the world”. What surprised me then, with King Crimson’s sudden success, was the degree of hostility that KC seemed to trigger. Today, I take it as a commonplace that any positive generates a negative reaction of equal force. The practical concern then moves to: how do we bring the two opposing forces together? Perhaps for another day.

The huge money-flow success of the record and music industry between 1968-78 attracted the attention of ambitious business persons. In the 1980s ambitious business persons went into property. (As an aside: Mr. SG Alder used the EG Music Group’s success 1969-76 to move into property 1977-78, until the collapse of the property market in the Autumn of 1988 compounded his disastrous problems as a Lloyd’s Name).

In the 1970s, records and stadium rock were growth areas. Performances moved out of clubs, into theatres, into stadia. The physical distancing of punters and performers went with that. Physical distancing, physical barriers, security staff to “protect” the performers - I didn’t feel the “we’re on the same side” vibe anymore.

And good to bear in mind that not every performer was looking to explore the “common humanity” between audients and performers. Some just wanted to be stars. In which case, the distance in attitude widened beyond the purely physical. “Common” humanity became a little more uncommon. Well, that’s my experience on the ground.

The 1979 Frippertronics tour was set up to down barriers between audients and, in this case, Fripp as performer. Record stores, small performance places, and some offices in record companies. The assumption within this: we do have a common humanity to be mutually recognised, accepted and trusted. Trusted, for example, in terms of personal interactions, where politeness is a given. EG Management didn’t like this approach. Mark Fenwick managed ELP within the EG Office, then Roxy Music and Bryan Ferry, and Mr. Fenwick’s response to the proposed small, mobile and (aspiring to) intelligent unit touring, was negative.

Mark Fenwick: They’ll see the emperor has no clothes!

RF: The emperor has no clothes.

Mr. Fenwick’s approach to management distanced performer from audient, to maintain / develop the mystique of the artist / star. My intention was otherwise.

PQ: How did that work for you?
R: Quick answer:  very well, particularly in the US and Canada.

PQ: Why North America?
R: Firstly, language. Secondly, a more unified culture/s and national border/s. Europe has a lot of borders, many cultures. Thirdly, the US had more public spaces, such as record stores and clubs. Europe had more industry spaces, less public spaces, available to me.

And it helped that performances were mostly free. In record stores it was - come along, see a free presentation, music and Q&A, buy an Exposure album. Or not.

PQ: When punters buy tickets, the atmosphere changes?
R: Yes. My experience of engaging personally with audients changed in 1980.

PQ: Why?
R: How and why did the world change? Lotsa answers to that one. Politically, Reagan became the US president and Margaret Thatcher was the British prime minister. I am not commenting on their broader policies including the economic, other than to say something like: there was a shift in the wider cultural imperative.

Immediately, my experience face-to-face, was that members of the public made demands on me. Regardless of whatever I felt, fan rights were more important, more deserving, had greater weight than me if I declined to engage. With autography, photography, singing things, being allowed to sit in an auditorium and watch / listen to other bands on the bill with interruption. Increasingly the justification used – we give you money! I quote an actual situation in the Rockefeller Center, NYC, shouted down and along the ground floor corridor, January 1982.

PQ: What changed?
R: This was a process underway, where a market economy became a market society.

It is an illegitimate construal that buying a ticket confers rights, even rights over the person of the performer, outside the performance and performance space. Essentially, it is defining “our common humanity” in material terms.

Where there is mutual agreement, fine. Like the development of VIP eventing. This is now a key part of any touring group’s financial planning. Streaming has siphoned off what would once have been a royalty stream, so live work is now the primary income stream for most working players.

At King Crimson shows, David Singleton created the Royal Package. David and a member of the band would speak to the VIP Eventers and answer questions. Usually I’d welcome the RP participants, which I enjoyed a lot. VIP events are a defined and consensual professional undertaking that extends beyond the defined audient / performer roles. Not quite impersonal, not quite personal. A liminal zone.

PQ: Why “illegitimate construal”? Fans have bought your stuff, gone to shows.
R: I give my dentist money. He doesn’t expect me to hang with him, he doesn’t expect to hang with me, just because we’re up to speed on my dental hygiene. Although if I asked politely, he’d probably autograph my false tooth. But, since he didn’t actually make it, maybe not.

PQ: But fans are people. Don’t they have the right to be recognised and acknowledged?
R: Along the lines of, acknowledging our common humanity?

PQ: Yes.
R: Alright. At certain point, where we are present to ourself we become present to another. In the conventional formula: I am Thee and Thee is me. There is mutual recognition. And may we note: when we are present to ourselves there is no demand for recognition / acknowledgement by another. It is sufficient to be present. Firstly, to myself. Secondly, to be present to another. Thirdly, to recognise ourselves within each other. I see you. You see me. We are One. All is good.

PQ: You’re on a roll. So where does fan demand for recognition come from?
R: It’s their dragon that wants to be tickled.

https://www.dgmlive.com/diaries/Robert%20Fripp/2025-02-26-rf-diary

PQ: Back to St. George’s pet.
R: I doubt that our pal George would look on his dragon as a pet, more a continual reminder that if he fell asleep on his horse, Georgie’s backside would get well-toasted with fiery breath.

PQ: You see fans as dragons?
R: No. But when I get pitched – you’re a creepy and failed person because you won’t sign my stuff when I gave you my hard-earned pay and I only wanted to say hello and while I’m only saying hello put my arm around you for a selfie and a squeeze, there’s nothing wrong with that anyway, it’s only a small thing it’s not like I’m doing anything wrong, in any case I have the right to be recognised and acknowledged by you so why are you walking backwards and away from me, I feed you and pay your household bills  – the part of that good person demanding my limited attention is their dragon. In a word, their egotism.

In Sufi practice, acknowledging a person’s dragon would be considered unethical.

PQ: How so?
R: Western ethics differentiates between right and wrong. Sufi ethical practice differentiates between the real and the imaginary / illusory, the “higher” and “lower” parts of our common humanity.

Attention is a power. When I give my attention to a person, it strengthens that person. More accurately, it strengthens that part of the person which receives my attention. Fan demand for recognition doesn’t allow for me to choose, to give attention or not. So for me to give their dragon attention, is to strengthen their egotism. In any practice, this is the inverse of the aim: to free ourselves to serve what is highest in us. As is said - what is highest in us, is not far from what is highest in us all. And what is highest in us all, is not far from what is Highest.

PQ: That’s a bit cosmic.
R: Alright. A practical example from the life of a working player. The musician serves the Music. Would you agree?

PQ: Yeah. That sounds right.
R: Where the musician uses music to attract attention to themself, things begin to get out of tune, out of time. If that musician becomes popular, with simpering adulants and accompanying fame, if the musician allows themselves to believe the crap, the channel for Music to work through them gets blocked. If the musician is full of themselves, there’s little room for Music. Music has to work way harder to get into our world.

Conventionally expressed, we have to get out of the way. Even, to get out of our own way.

PQ: How do you deal with success?
R: There’s nothing like humiliation to galvanise the attention.

Music from the 1979 Frippertronics touring...

Gordon Mowlam: What a total bore..get back on the road Bob with KC. You are not too old!
Tony Geballe: a superfluous warning: if you take rf’s question seriously, and follow it back and towards its destination, your life may entirely change.

RF: What is missing in Mr. Mowlam's life that he needs KC to provide?

Mr. Mowlam has not, I believe, responded to this question. If Mr. Mowlam senses a lack in his life, reasonably, it is his responsibility to address it. It is illegitimate, even improper, to impose a personal responsibility on another. In this case, RF and KC.

So, what is the particular something-or-other that Mr. Mowlam finds he is lacking, please? Once identified and named, this then becomes a practical matter, to which Mr. Mowlam may then turn his attention. At that point, a conversation becomes possible.

Until that point, what seems most likely is for Mr. Mowlam to continue complaining that the world does not give him what he wants.

Billy J. Mabry Jr.: I agree with Mr. Mowlam. What you are able to provide to the music world is much more important than your happiness .

RF: Thank you to Mr. Mabry for his good-humoured post. I think it likely he is aware that the drives and motivations, in the choices and decisions I take regarding my work for now over a period of 68 years, are governed solely by the notion of partying, hanging out, and enjoying the simple pleasures of life. Such as standing on the corner, hands extended, in the expectation that life will provide me with cheesecake.

David Skinner: Question: if it were to whisper in one's ear again, could there still be a music powerful enough to motivate KC's return? (Or might it motivate a new project, best suited to the music's realization?)

RF: Were that to be so, the practicalities would be governed by time, place, person and circumstance. Meanwhile, I follow the trajectory of my life in the direction it is presently leading. Behind Music is Silence. Silence may also whisper in our ear, and its imperative carries a greater necessity.

Alessandro Farinella: I thought I was a serious man. The more you publish things like this, the more I have to believe myself. But what are you doing? Are you brainwashed?

RF: Sr. Farinella has my support in believing himself, and in being serious. Me, I am governed by frivolity, the fripperies of living as it were. What am I doing? Being frivolous. Am I brainwashed? Without a doubt.

Now, moving to my early acquaintance with Mr. Mowlam at Bournemouth College 1965-66  https://fripp.com/great-advice-from-the-rabbi-that-robert-fripp-never-forgot/. An important new publication in economic history was Deane & Cole’s British Economic Growth 1688-1959. This textbook is still with me, on shelves I pass several times a day. A pic of which to celebrate our friendship of that time.

RF: Mr. Mowlam is a pal of mine from Bournemouth College, when I was studying Economics, Economic & Political History at A level, to qualify me for a university degree in Estate Management (1965-66). For which I was accepted, but became a professional player on May 16th. 1967, redirecting my trajectory in life. Such is the power of music when it reaches over and whispers in our ear.
Gratitude to Mr. Mowlam for his support of KC over the years. I recall passing him in a queue for a KC performance, some five decades ago.

Mr. Mowlam's occasional posts on this page all bear the same complaint and the same injunction. However, Mr. Mowlam does not engage either possible apophatic nor cataphatic motivation for my returning to KC touring life. Which would be an interesting challenge for him, were he to take this on.

In response to Mr. Mowlam's previous post, much the same as this, I asked "What is missing in Mr. Mowlam's life that he needs KC to provide?" (close paraphrase). I did not see a reply to this question.

Presumably live KC represents a value / ideal / quality which he holds dear, and seems to hold a necessity for Mr. Mowlam.

What does Mr. Mowlam feel he needs from live KC that he cannot get elsewhere, please?