There continue to be interesting resonances from the past. Toyah apparently spotted an article in the Times saying that some recording artists have moved away from a dependence on album sales, and are now making bootlegs of their shows available as you leave the auditorium.
DGM continues to influence the people who influence the people.
Meanwhile, I was forwarded a wonderful review of the Power to Believe from a HongKong paper, the bcmagazine. Some choice excerpts :
"Sounding like Black Sabbath after being locked up in a jazz club for three months, there's lots of noodling and long sci-fi soundscapes.."
"Happy attempts to goad their contemporaries for modern music's apparent lack of endeavour" (and I thought AB was just lamenting his own lack of lyrics).
"It's the aural equivalent of those bearded types who crusade for real ale complaining about drinking lager..."
And my personal favourite "There's plenty here to provide stimulus for chin scratching admiration - but there's no way you could have sex to it."
As ever the reviewer reviews himself. He is obviously a clean shaven, lager drinking, Black Sabbath fan, who wants an album to which he can have sex. A perfectly sensible desire, but why he is foisting these demands on King Crimson. Surely everyone knows that Crimheads are all earnest, bespectacled, real ale drinking, bearded, sexless old men. Or is that just Fripp (cruel, cruel. How low will the Vicar stoop in search of a cheap joke.) It is totally untrue. After all, Fripp drinks Kaliber.
My only defence for this apology for a diary entry is the fact that my back problems have now been compounded by the arrival of prostatitis. ONe of the few illnesses for which I can assure you that, however bad the pain, the diagnosis and examination are far worse
