There surely must be something of a masochistic streak in Crimson lyricist, Richard Palmer-James when he penned tongue-twisters such as Doctor Diamond and even the relatively straightforward words to the verses of The Great Deceiver. Not only does John have to sing them with the dangerous curves of a fast-moving song but he also has to deliver some truly titanic bass work right off the bat.
A very good-sounding audience recording captures a full hour and a half set here with the aforementioned piledrivers designed to wallop the audience into submission. Having gained their attention, Crimson immediately goes into a pastoral improv dominated by Mellotron flutes as a prelude to a gorgeous version of Exiles. And again, going from silence into the spidery beginning of Fracture, the band’s control of dynamics not only within the song itself but the set in which the song occurs, is a masterful touch.
Wetton can also be heard smiling/almost laughing as he sings the first verse of Easy Money when instead of the usual figure, Fripp plays the arpeggiated “On soft grey mornings widows cry” section from The Court Of The Crimson King,” an attempt to playfully unseat his colleague’s attention mid-gig.
Listen out also for a savage improv that comes straight after, with some soaring playing from Cross against some brutal stop-start counterpoints from the rhythm section. The frantic end section is phenomenal stuff, eventually finding itself coalescing into what was then the still-unrecorded Starless. While it’s true the insidious tape wobble that has been slowly building becomes intrusive at this point, the gig as a whole is a wonderful example of this quartet taking flight.
