Guest Book

Boa Tarde! Acredito que todos os membros 1000 estão aguardando as belas músicas da Tour USA 2021. Virão quando? Um Abraço a todos. Parabéns aos Krims pelas apresentações (vi as fotos de Tony).

SS’s post of today nails the history of KC and it’s re-emergence. Hearing Red played by Discipline at Manchester Poly was tremendous. And buying KC’s Discipline from Piccadilly Records later in the year is a clear and wonderful memory.

Seeing as this weekend is the festival and I live on the Island, I thought I'd ask an idle question in case anyone happens to have the answer. A year or two ago I went round an exhibition at the Dimbola Museum about the festival, and there were several posters advertising Crimso as being there. This was '69, the year Dylan played, 29-31 August. According to the DGM listings, Crimson played gigs in London on 26th August and 3rd September but they seem to have skiped the gig on the Island. I was wondering why. There's no clue in the RF diary. (ps - I'm still struggling with the Hendrix Chord. E7#9.)

Will the full KC50 and Music for Quiet Moments series be put together as single "tour" downloads to buy the full series all at once?

This recording does not have time, if they would listen to it in 200 years, they would say the same as now, I love them all the time.

Forgive my indulgent first-ever post. As we contend with our limited emergence from isolation, I was fortunate to attend the re-opening of Broadway theater on a major scale, last night. This, along with recent KC concert attendances, has quite fully displayed my realization of the necessity of the friendship of music in our lives, and its sorority of muses like theater, coupled with the essential fraternity of sharing these friendships publicly as a society. In NYC, due to the venue change I was forced to return my Royal Package, but managed to secure a house seat and arrive just in time for orchestra's tune up--albeit a recorded one from the 1970s. At KC concerts, although, I sat by myself, I was not alone amidst an audience, I most likely, had little in common with as individuals, but we were all a united as part a fostering, shared experience. Beyond our ostensible universal enthusiasm for KC cult, of which, I sure many of us will continue to blindly fall prey to the cult leader's mercenary commercial chicanery, I was warmed and inspired by the socially spiritualized atmosphere, rife with the historical almost church-like setting, and of course, the friendship of the wonderful music. During the quarantine, so much of us had an entire world of books, video and music immediatly at our command. For me, it was chance to chance to catch up on a raft of hard drives, shelves and boxes of books, video and music. Friendly, to be sure to finally read, watch and listen to classics, but nothing compared to live experiences, even shared in a crowd of "strangers." Substantively, the actual NYC music performance and selection matched Mr. Fripp's introductory exhortation that we would be rocked. The majority of music came from the first, KC album and Red, perhaps my favorite recording. There seemed to be smattering of KC music from all eras, but not quite that much from the 1980's and 1990's. Except for the blistering percussive Indiscipline, most of this repertoire, mightn't quite fit this current troupe of Crimson-teers. But I was elated to hear within Tony's Cadenza, a wonderfully droll Elephant Talk, rebooted as "Tony Talk." I heard murmurs from the exiting crowd that this, sadly was probably the last KC live concerts we would hear. Notwithstanding, my chances, finally, to see and hear the performances from this tour will last my lifetime. Otherwise, a real question. To wit, I under stand Barry Godber, the artist that designed the original KC album died young. Are there are images available that might suggest other examples of his work? Best -30-

Great selection and quality. Love this band

I love the performances they made and the songs they played are awesome. Also, the quality of the recording is really great!

Possibly my last Crimson show, Rose Music Center, nowhere in particular. What a strange venue that suddenly arises like an island out of the sea of Ohio suburbs. As I arrived to the hotel, I heard KC rehearsing. I crossed the enormous empty parking lot to sneak a listen (sorry, couldn't help it!) and soaked in the beloved sounds,until a security guard suggested that I can "walk and listen" at the same time. It was a surreal moment that made me forget about the whole world outside that parking lot. The entire evening had the same aura of surrealism and magic as if some greater forces conspired to make this the most special night of music - but such things are commonplace when Crimson is in the house. The emotional Royal Package, the setlist, the smiles on the faces of musicians, hearing Schizoid Man (finally!), it was perfect in each moment. As the show neared its thundering conclusion I felt a great wave of love for each band member. I realized that out of all the Crim iterations, with so many greats passing through, this band, the first and last I've ever seen, is the one I will always treasure as my Crimson. I understood what Robert always said, about this being the only band that could be King Crimson in this moment in this circular time. If this was indeed my last KC show ever, it couldn't have possibly been more perfect.

King Crimson Rose Music Center in Huber Heights, Ohio September 2, 2021 As the last reverberations of “21st Century Schizoid Man” settled, triggering a merry, mutual photo session between King Crimson and its audience at the Rose Music Center, a bittersweet sentiment sifted through the crowd. It was reflected very matter-of-factly by a patron sitting next to me. “I wonder if that’s really it.” The remark reflected widely circulated (meaning rumored) scuttlebutt that the mighty Crimson’s current North American tour will be its last. Of course, the band has issued no official statement on the subject. It’s a good bet, in fact, the musicians themselves don’t definitively know what the future holds. But if this was indeed part of the last-go-round for Robert Fripp and company, then they are going out on a jubilant note – well, a whole lot of jubilant notes. Like the near annual treks Crimson has undertaken since reinventing itself in 2013/14 as a seven (and sometimes eight) headed beast fronted by three drummers - Gavin Harrison, Jeremy Stacey (who doubled on keyboards) and longtime Crimsonite Pat Mastelotto - this performance was a stunning presentation of living history. The 15 tunes making up the concert covered eight different albums spanning five decades. But the specific “whens” didn’t really matter. All of the material was presented with an almost symphonic electricity. The drums didn’t just establish grooves, they played off them, orchestrated them and at times even harmonized with each other during specific passages. Mel Collins’ turns on flutes and various saxophones enhanced the color of more pastoral moments while turning more open-ended passages into jazz joyrides. Guitarists Fripp and Jakko Jakszyk proved a daredevil tag team, especially when their dizzying runs locked horns with the drums. And then there was Tony Levin, who navigated the same treacherous rhythmic waters as his cohorts on bass and stick while also providing each workout with subtle, flexible but substantial foundations. In other words, the technical command of Crimson remained stunning with a repertoire covering a half-century that in no way resembled a collective museum piece. Whether it was through works from the 1969 debut album, “In the Court of the Crimson King” (in particular, the still-elegantly ruminative “Epitaph) or comparatively newer instrumentals composed by the current Crimson lineup (the roaring percussion/guitar workout “Radical Action II”), this is a modern thinking unit. For instance, the pastoral sweep of “Islands” remained rich and warm, reflecting the concert’s quietest set of dynamics. Credit Jakszyk’s vocal lead and Collins’ saxophone flights for making the piece sound fresher than any supposed “prog” song from 1971 has a right to. Similarly, a comparatively recent (if you want to call 2001 recent) excursion like “Level Five” remained a stirring blend of electro/acoustic percussive ingenuity and warp-speed guitar fire. If there is a single piece that best reflected the sound and strength of this current Crimson incarnation, “Level Five” gets the prize. Also, for an ensemble with so many moving parts, this seven-member crew performed expertly as an actual band. A drum break from Garrison during “21st Century Schizoid Man” and an earlier serenade by Levin on electric upright bass were among the only unaccompanied solos performed during the show. But the members all soloed generously through the evening within a band context. Everything coalesced with the set-closing “Starless,” a still-stirring 1974 composition that swept in like an evening fog before a middle section broke away for an ominous ensemble groove that slowly gathered intensity and dimension with guitars and drums both anchoring and playing against the groove. The tune also allowed for the show’s only visual indulgence, one that gradually bathed the band in blood red lighting. So if this performance was, in fact, “it” – meaning, the show was part of the concluding Stateside chapter in the 50-plus year saga of King Crimson – then the band is leaving with more than a mere bang. It is exiting by illuminating nearly all its creative history with the vitality and invention of the here and now.

A haiku does not have to be 5/7/5. That's a guideline for English speakers to get them started. It's a little nutty to think a minimal art form of grace and beauty should rely on being an accountant. Ezra Pound is famous for many haiku, like his In a Station of the Metro: The apparition of these faces in the crowd: Petals on a wet, black bough.