In Denver On Borrowed Time   June 16, 1974
Written by Steven Sthole

Denver Coliseum, Colorado
The Denver show was a typical mismatch from local promoter Barry Fey. Golden Earring opened the show, followed by King Crimson. The show’s headliners were none other than an up and coming little ‘ol band from Texas…ZZ Top. Only 12 shows later, Crimso would play its legendary 70s Swan Song in New York’s Central Park, so the Crimson Beast was on borrowed time. 

The crowd was somewhat typical for Denver at the time. Mostly local longhairs more accustomed to typical blues-based rock fare. The smell of marijuana permeated the air, mixing with the aroma of the cattle stockyards just down the street.

It was obvious to me, as Crimso took the stage following Golden Earring’s set, that this was definitely not a Crimson crowd. This was not the same crowd that cheered on the previous incarnation of the band (with Mel, Boz and Ian) at Denver’s Summit Studio’s almost two years previous. There was a latent current of hostility emanating from this crowd. They wanted easy entertainment, they didn’t want to hear anything new and challenging, and they wanted to kick back and get stoned. In other words, not an optimum setting for King Crimson to play in.

What my friends and I would find out later, from a friend of ours who worked for Feyline Concert Promotions, was that King Crimson was told specifically by Barry Fey: “You have 45 minutes to play your set: no more”. I’m speculating now, but I’m sure Robert Fripp might have been saying to himself at the time, “We’ll see about that”. 

A set quite similar to the one KC played in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania in 1974 (as documented on CD3 of The Great Deceiver Box Set) unfolded. ‘The Great Deceiver’, ‘Exiles’ and ‘The Night Watch’ were memorable to me and my friends, but the Denver crowd was not “into it” at all. After an improvisation, the arena filled with the sounds of synthesized wind, and the band segued into ‘The Talking Drum’. It was clear to my small group of fellow Crimson aficionados that KC was going to play the same sequence as it appears on the album ‘Lark’s Tongues In Aspic’, meaning that ‘The Talking Drum’ would break immediately into ‘Lark’s Tongues In Aspic, Part II’ – a very dramatic musical piece indeed. As ‘Drum’ began to increase in tempo and volume, a definite sense of both urgency and tension filled the Coliseum. At last, KC had the crowd interested! Then, as ‘Drum’ was about to reach its aural climax, there was suddenly…..

Silence.

Barry Fey had cut power to the PA System. ON PURPOSE.

I can recall vividly to this day what transpired next. Bill Bruford rose from the stool behind his drum kit, uttered what might have been an obscenity, and threw down his drum sticks. John Wetton seemed to continue to want to carry on, and was plucking the strings to his bass, with a somewhat amused look on his face. David Cross stopped playing his violin immediately, as if the wind had been knocked out of him. And Mr. Fripp?  Robert Fripp, without saying a word, unplugged his black Gibson, and walked off the stage without looking at anyone.

The crowd reaction was a mixture of catcalls and booing. It’s hard to tell if the animosity was directed at the bad timing of the event that had just transpired, or the band’s performance. My friends and I were quite vocal as to what we thought was a technical (and unintentional) glitch, and we were promptly told to “shut up” by our unsympathetic neighbours in the seats around us.

 The KC show was over, and to this day, I cannot help but think that this was one of many nails in the coffin for the 1970’s incarnation of King Crimson. 

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