When I heard King Crimson was back, I knew that I would move heaven and earth to see them again. My hopes were almost dashed when the tour dates were revealed and there were no shows in or near northeast Ohio. After finding that the Philadelphia tickets were significantly cheaper than the Chicago shows, I talked my wife into letting me take the road trip to the coast with our son (which would free her from the obligation of going with me to another ear puncturing concert). After an 11 hour dri...
When I heard King Crimson was back, I knew that I would move heaven and earth to see them again. My hopes were almost dashed when the tour dates were revealed and there were no shows in or near northeast Ohio. After finding that the Philadelphia tickets were significantly cheaper than the Chicago shows, I talked my wife into letting me take the road trip to the coast with our son (which would free her from the obligation of going with me to another ear puncturing concert). After an 11 hour drive through the worst rush hour traffic, we made it to Phily just in time to grab some New York style pizza and head over to the Kimmel Center. Since I first became a Crimson fan in the mid Nineties during the formation of the Double Duo, I always lamented that I would never hear some of the great songs from Crimson’s early repertoire, especially since I was only born in ’75. What an absolute gift to hear LTIA Pt 1 and Pictures of a City. It was really cool to hear bits of Jakszyk’s version of the latter in Harrison’s drumming. To hear Collin’s sax float in on songs like The Construction of Light and Level Five was nothing short of magical. I loved the way each drummer took turns during the breaks in One More Red Nightmare. Levin’s bass provided a heavy metal power to old and new songs alike which made me tremble with catharsis. The new songs from A Scarcity of Miracles sounded like they could have appeared on Islands with The Letters and The Sailor’s Tale (which was my son’s favorite). The show built incredibly to the finale of Starless. It was so devastating I was sure the world was actually going to end with the song. But then they played Schizoid Man and it was a revelation. Harrison’s solo had the frantic energy of Muir yet boasted the melodic precision of Neil Peart’s work. Words fail to describe the overwhelming joy of experiencing this music live with the perfect combination of musicians. It was the pinnacle of excellence. On the drive back to Ohio Saturday morning, my son said to me, "It’s too bad we couldn’t get tickets for tonight’s show too." I was a heartbeat away from doing a u-turn.
