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:: Posted by PPmINTY on March 15, 2015

"...íIs The X Factor killing music?íand the way that it appears to have coloured a whole generationsí understanding of what "good singing" is (and our own reaction to it)..."

Finally! At last! Thank you, David! So Iím not the only one who feels that way about the melismathon that passes for "good" singing these days?

It probably is a generational thing.

My own reaction to any modern singers (especially of the Post-Mariah Carey/Whitney Houston/Celine Dion School of Grandstanding) is akin to that of fingernails on a squeaky blackboard. Itís not just that I donít like it - I physically canít listen to it!

It is almost certainly for this reason that I will always plump for instrumental music first and foremost. If a ísongí (and I use the term in its broadest definition!) has to have vocals, Iíd like to:-

a) Care about what they are singing (and, letís face it, how many pop or rock songs have anything [new] to actually say? Often the vocalsí sole purpose is to justify the existence of having a vocalist on the session in the first place! "Let íem sing any old rubbish! Who cares? You canít hear the words anyway!")

b) Be able to endure the timbre of the voice without gritting my teeth.

Hereís an idea guys. You want to sing a melody? Sing the flipping notes in the tune, not every other passing note in every related scale and inversion before (accidentally?) hitting the right ones. Donít think we havenít noticed that melismatic vocal gymnastics are merely a way of covering up your having a tin ear for music, for those that wouldnít know any better.

:: Posted by cuicawrangler on March 14, 2015

Grateful for the return of Robertís diary, and truly enjoying Davidís as well. Thatís all. Thanks!

:: Posted by Bakullama on March 14, 2015

Seems like you and I are feeling the same way, and it reminded me of an old fable...

An old and funny story ...

A young boy was walking when he came across a wall that caught his attention.
It was a wall like no other, a beautiful wall, made of fine brick.
He really admired that wall.

The boy said hello to the wall
The wall did not reply

Every day for weeks, the boy passed by the beautiful wall and he would say:

Hello Wall.

Every day the wall said nothing in reply.

Finally one day out of sheer frustration the boy walked up to the wall and said:

Fuck you, wall!

As the boy was walking away, the wall said...

Fuck you too!

Did the boy deserve that? Well yeah.

:: Posted by emory0 on March 13, 2015

On the Fripperblog Fripp wrote...

"The high bailiff struck out that defence and dismissed any suggestion Mr Alder, who had control over the company, came under undue pressure to guarantee the loan."

It occurs to me that, based on what is written here and previously, that EGís implosion was in miniature what the 2008 financial implosion was on a far larger scale.

If I understand this correctly, EG imploded because Sam Alder in effect "bet" EGs capital on a bunch of real estate deals that went south. This capital was, of course, money that Fripp and others had earned through their hard labors (no irony intended here) and which Mr Alder, uh, delayed (shall we say) in paying to the artists. Instead, he diverted this dough to a bunch of "sure thing" real estate deals which, when the deals went bad, took the money and EG the company with them. Of course, Mr Alder had hoped to personally profit on these deals and probably imagined himself replacing the capital when the deals were done. (I canít help but believe that, at least once while he was putting the deals together, he said to himself: "Now IíM gonna be the rockstar!")

In 2008 the big banks were packaging risky "sub prime" real estate mortgages into Collateralized Mortgage Obligations (CMOs), which are (kinda) big batches of higher risk mortgages packaged together. The idea is that, so long as one accurately assesses the risk of a "traunch" of such risky loans, then pricing (in the form of interest payments) can be high. You donít care, theoretically, that a number of the loans will go bad. Indeed, the risk of these instruments was for a brief time so predictable that AIG insured the entire package.

Of course, in the wake of the Iraq and Afghanistan wars the US economy did get bad enough that far larger percentages of the underlying loans went bad then had been anticipated, putting the very survival of megabanks such as Citi (as a random example) at significant risk, along with the retirement funds and savings of families, old people and, basically, everyone. And this could have been OK had the longer-term (Basel II) risk capital stored by the banks been sufficient to keep the banks afloat in the 1-out-of-100 event. But the risks had been greatly, systematically underestimated by all concerned so that as the CMOs all went bad, the banks werenít even remotely capitalized sufficiently. In other words, their real estate deals were going bad and they no longer had the money that had been entrusted to them.

I find it interesting that EGís demise was in miniature what the 2008 financial crisis was in a far more systematic way. Although Fripp found a way to eventually survive economically, one wonders whether other aging now near-penniless artists had to work in a Starbucks or whatever in order to keep off the streets. (Well, itís England over there so not quite the Darwinian hellhole that the US represents for many.) In the wake of the banking crisis countless retirees had to go back to work or face homelessness because their savings were gone.

Is there a moral to these stories? I donít know, but it does seem ironic. Is it better or worse if men donít out-and-out rob you at gunpoint but, instead, hope to get fabulously wealthy by taking risks with oneís long-term livelihood (again, hoping nothing goes wrong so that they can restore the capital)? (Although in both cases I imagine the bad deals werenít the first and that, had they gone through, other deals would have been done ad infinitum.)

rightness is it's own necessity
:: Posted by sylvanasheart on March 13, 2015

Orpheum album;grand and wonderful return of THE MusiKc!!!But,the cover-?SERIOUSLY?!?In this age of photoshop,yíall couldnít do better with the "postal lorrie"??And,the DVD...40 summodd minits of a static photo?-Tony??I mean,a LETTER CARRIER brung it me,neímind my olípa was a postal carrier for 30 years.ACH!!I cannae play the blasted thing noting this HAs to be THE WORST KC album cover AND DVD.Rather,now,Iíd got the tour box,instead.

:: Posted by ChewChewGumChew on March 13, 2015

Perhaps instead of trying to include a hundred different cdís of shows in the Thrakboxxx, maybe just include a couple, along with a few download codes from the tour that can be used on the downloads page. Us "Thrakboyzzz" can get the shows we prefer if they were not included in the box. Just a thought. 

Guestbook Adieu
:: Posted by markvankempen on March 13, 2015

From Robert Frippís Diary, Saturday 7th March 2015:

Q: Then what do I do if I want to present my opinion, my likes and dislikes, irrespective of knowing nearly nothing about the subject of my commentary?

A: The expression of an uninvited opinion is unwise, and sometimes dangerous. Even when we are informed.

Almost every time Iíve written a message for the DGM Guestbook, Iíve hesitated to send it. I do not know the people my postings are directed at, donít know how they will take it and what the effect of my posting will be. Among other things, Iíve posted several critical remarks over the last two years, notably issues about the mixes of some of KCís releases, lampooning Robert Frippís use of pictures included in his diary and the role of the drums and absence of the Crimson Whiff on the Live at the Orpheum release. Iíve had two responses on my postings: a neutral response from David Singleton on my comments on the way the drums are mixed on The Great Deceiver, and Robert Fripp quoting some of my remarks on the drumming of Michael Giles. Curiously, my very first message from several years ago, containing the complete setlist of KCís 1973 Amsterdam concert, was ignored.

At best, I hope to offer a mirror, directed at a spot which may have been overlooked. At worst, I fear my comments could cause frustration. I do regret a passage in my post "A Man, A Diary", in which I compared RFís diary with Franz Lisztís public confession of his sins. It could be interpreted as merely humourous, but was mainly meant to express admiration for Frippís and Lisztís daring honesty in full public view. In retrospect, I find this passage too ambiguous - too easy to misunderstand. I note that Robert Fripp stopped writing diary entries two days after my message. To me, it seems unlikely that there is a connection, but I cannot be sure. Also, generally, trying to be funny while criticizing is not a good idea. If any of my comments have caused grief of any sort, Iím deeply sorry about this. It would be on my conscience.

All in all, I better keep my opinions to myself in the future and follow Robert Frippís activities and reflections from a safe distance, without blowing my bugle. Good luck to all.

:: Posted by PPmINTY on March 13, 2015

...and the picture wasnít in "Sounds", it was in the NME.

:: Posted by PPmINTY on March 13, 2015

Just spotted a typo in my entry "And on this day in history.."
The Fripp appearance was on the 12th March 1981, not  í1988í as I inexplicably wrote. Must have been thinking of something else.

And on this day in history...
:: Posted by PPmINTY on March 13, 2015

Exactly a year ago, 12th March 2014, I went to see The Crimson ProjeKCt at the Shepherdís Bush Empire. I guess, in hindsight, I was right all along with my blogspot-borne statement of "I see this [tour] as drawing a line under íKing Crimson: The Adrian Belew Yearsí..."

But casting a mind much further back, it was also on the 12th March (1988) that Robert Fripp performed "An Evening of Barbertronics" at the Virgin Megastore in Oxford Street ("Donít look for it, itís not there any more...").

We stood around the store - or rather squatted on the floor like children in a school assembly hall - and enjoyed some live Frippertronics (aborted abruptly, due to one of the Revoxes not behaving itself).

This was followed by a íQ & Aí session (during which I asked Robert something banal about working with David Byrne, I donít remember exactly what the question was). Simultaneously, Robert had his hair cut (ímediaí style) by celebrity New York coiffeuse Mary-Lou Green. I can just about recognise myself in the crowd (just behind Soo Catwomanís foot) in the picture that appeared in that weekís edition of "SOUNDS".

Polite ídemandsí for more music led to another attempt at live Frippertronics... again, frustratingly, cut short... Oh, what to do? From technical adversity came some sublime music, as we instead witnessed one of those Blue Peter-like "Hereís One I Made Earlier" occasions, whereby Robert soloed over a pre-existing íloopí (from a more successful US show of a couple of weeks earlier).

Chitchat and music over, we formed an orderly queue (itís an English thing, you wouldnít understand!) at the checkout,  to get our choices of vinyl signed and to shake the hand of Robert Fripp. Just ponder on that for a moment. To this day, I have a treasured copy of the pink "The League Of Gentlemen" elpee autographed by Robert Fripp.

Crusty cheeses...

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