KING CRIMSON EPITAPH Volumes One & Two
A Personal Throughview From The Guitarist.
I
King Crimson was conceived in the kitchen of 93a, Brondesbury Road, during the second half of November 1968; and born on January 13th. 1969 in the Fulham Palace Cafe, Fulham Palace Road, London. On December 7th. 1969, while driving to Big Sur, Ian McDonald told me of the decision taken by Michael Giles and himself, during the preceding three days in Los Angeles, to leave the band. The last performance by this, the first incarnation of King Crimson, was at the Fillmore West, San Francisco, on December 16th. 1969.
I returned to England with a broken heart. At the time, I couldn’t understand how anyone could leave a group of that originality and power. Twenty seven years later I know it’s better to take a holiday after an overlong, gruelling tour, than a life-decision which affects everybody. But these were young musicians, and young managers.
In retrospect, Michael and Ian regretted their leaving. But both Greg Lake and Ian McDonald achieved greater exposure, popularity and financial success with their subsequent projects - ELP and Foreigner - than was likely had Crimson continued. Michael married the woman he loved, and had left behind in England.
II
The tag of “Crimson King” or “bandleader” has followed me in the years since the breakup of 1969. As a simplicism, and a way to dodge subtlety and complexity, this is fair enough. It is also inaccurate. None of the original group saw me in this light, including myself. The group was a group, everyone contributed, and everyone’s contribution affected the contribution of everyone else. No one person could have made this band what it was. Or is.
Crimso `69 was a painful experience for me. Even now, as I sit to write liner notes for “Epitaph”, I remember little joy in the experience - other than the music. And the music was remarkable, and sufficient, to endure the rest of the life that accompanied it. The rest of the life was a broad liberal education, an opportunity few young people get to embrace. But as a package I would wish it on no one, with the possible exception of one of my former managers and his solicitor.
III
This album cannot convey to contemporary ears, or give the experience of being inside and part of, a performance by this “monumental heavy with the majesty - and tragedy - of Hell” with its “immense towering force field (that) either pinned down patrons or drove them out”; alternatively “boring beyond description” that couldn’t “shatter windows or set bodies to bopping at 10 paces” (US reviews of NY and LA shows, December 1969).
So here are two staple Crimson contradictions: a live band on record, and polarised reviews.
1969 was for me an initiation into performance, and music. Each generation has its own initiation, by its own generation of musicians and artists. A young listener, coming to Crimso ‘69 for the first time, is more likely to hear this as part of the history of rock than as a life-shaping experience. Perhaps someone who was in the Speakeasy, or the tent at Plumpton, might re-enter their experience through this record. Or remember how much they hated the opening act for Geno Washington.
IV
The group was immensely popular, and immensely unpopular.
Like it or not, the group was special. Why? What made the group so special?
King Crimson in 1969 had the right music, musicians, music industry and audience in attendance, to make it work. These are some of the main factors which made King Crimson stand out, and contributed to its success:
Material, executive talent, concept, commitment, energy of desperation, surprise, management, record company, publicity, media, album and album cover, the time of the world, technology, the Ford transit van, Angus Hunking, our good fairy.
A reader interested in some of the commentary of the time might consult the Scrapbook to “Frame By Frame” (4 CD overview, Virgin 1991) which, despite its many and impressive typographical mistakes, gives a good overview of this, and subsequent, Crimsons. The following are personal comments; broad, but not comprehensive. ==>
The Musicians
At the time and for the time, the playing standard was high for young rock musicians.
Greg Lake (21) had played with several semi-pro bands in the Bournemouth area, and then joined The Gods. Greg studied with the same guitar teacher as myself, Don Strike of Westbourne, and brought a guitarist’s technique to the bass.
Ian McDonald (23) spent five years in an army band which, although he hated it and drove him to despair, gave Ian a wide practical experience and a sound foundation to express his exceptional musical talent.
The guitarist (23) was an intense and driven young player who played in two Bournemouth area rock groups as a teenager, and spent three years in the Majestic Dance Orchestra. After King Crimson in 1969 he practiced a lot more and got better. This album suggests in 1969 his solos were pretty feeble. Ian didn’t like his guitar playing very much and, on the evidence of this album, I have sympathy with his view.
Michael Giles (25) was outstanding. Also from Bournemouth, in 1969 Michael was arguably the most exciting and original drummer in rock, and in a world class. I never knew him to play badly.
The musicians came together out of Giles, Giles & Fripp during the second half of November 1968. Only one person changed: Greg Lake replaced Peter Giles. I saw myself heading in a different musical direction to Peter, a superb bass player, and gave Ian and Michael a choice. Greg was a singer, and both lead and bass guitarist. I suggested he could replace Peter or myself.
Peter Sinfield and Ian were already writing partners before Ian joined Giles, Giles & Fripp, towards the end of a failure to alert the world to the fact of our existence. Peter accompanied Ian into the nascent King Crimson from GG&F, and during the initial and definitive rehearsals Peter provided criticism, advice, commentary and words. Peter moved rapidly from the inside of the outside to the outside of the inside.
Peter’s formal and practical involvement with the new group began as roadie and lighting man, in addition to providing words. He tired of being a roadie very quickly, mainly because of the weight of the equipment and how the life weighed on him. In Peter’s words (MM January 2nd. 1971): “I became their pet hippie, because I could tell them where to go to buy the funny clothes that they saw everyone wearing ... in fact I carved and hustled my way to where I am now”. In 1969 Peter was not quite a full member of the performance team, but more than a full member of the writing team.
What did each of the members bring to King Crimson?
Greg brought the physical presence of a front man and singer. His approach was energetic, pragmatic and direct.
The guitarist: the closest I can come is this - he brought a raison d’etre.
Ian brought musicality, an exceptional sense of the short and telling melodic line, and the ability to express that on a variety of instruments.
Michael brought authority - and humour, drive, invention, and a sense of the perverse.
Peter’s primary contribution was to the group’s material. But this doesn’t go far enough: he saw something, gave it words and applied them to the group. Peter recognised the band and gave it its name. He also found the cover. In a sense, Peter helped shape the perception of the group as King Crimson from both the inside and the outside.
What bound us together, for a short period of time, was commitment: the group was our prime aim and interest. With commitment all the rules change. As we became well known, outside interests and attention increasingly impinged and the group began to gently fall apart. But the intensity of the first six months generated enough momentum to keep the group moving, and it did, until falling over six months later.
The energy of desperation fuelled our efforts. We all had lame professional experiences which pointed ways not to go in music. So, we resolved to play what we wished to play (note for the dimwit reviewer: this does not equate to self-indulgence) and figured if we were good enough we might earn a living. A living in 1969 was £30 for the single men, and £40 for a married, and nothing for Peter Sinfield, who began working as an unpaid roadie.
The Material
The core writing partnership was Ian McDonald and Peter Sinfield. But essentially the material was all written, arranged, transformed by every member of the group, whoever and whatever its origination. Giles’ contribution was so startling and catalysing it would be arbitrary and inaccurate to exclude him from writing credits merely because he didn’t “write” anything. Michael’s drumming is a key element to the material.
“In The Court” and “I Talk To The Wind” were primarily McDonald / Sinfield, although the final form of INTCK went far beyond the original song as presented. Greg considers that he wrote the melody. “Epitaph” was a group effort, developing rapidly during an evening rehearsal from an idea presented by Greg. “Schizoid” was the same, using the opening riff (Greg) modified by Ian (the chromatic F, F#, G) and my fast running lines. It was Michael’s suggestion to play the fast “Schizoid” break in rhythmic unison. Peter would walk the block surrounding the Fulham Palace Cafe and return with words, and I often returned from a visit to Calatychos’ outside toilet with a spray of bright ideas.
But to ascribe personal contributions or bits to individuals is difficult, unfair and mistaken: everyone was involved. This is how a group works - if one person thinks of an idea, sooner or later someone will play it.
My own main writing concern was to give good players something good to play. A song demands an accompaniment, but good instrumental playing needs a line which can stand up, run on its own, and provide a springboard to take off and fly.
Peter Sinfield’s words from his period with Crimson have been much maligned and used to exemplify the worst pretensions of progressive (now “prog”) rock. Although I had difficulties with some of Peter’s words on the subsequent Crimson albums, as he had with the music, on “In The Court” Peter’s words are in a category of their own. They are the words of a writer who wrote from personal necessity, and have the power and conviction of direct seeing. After this album Peter become a professional wordsmith, and worked and practiced that skill. In 1969 Peter didn’t know what he couldn’t do, and none of us anticipated the acclaim and hostility which his words provoked.
Live Performance
The shock of this group’s performances in England, from its debut on April 9th. 1969 at the Speakeasy in London, is difficult to convey 28 years afterwards to someone who wasn’t part of that generation, or to anyone familiar with the work of later players who were themselves influenced.
A key to it was surprise: the group came from nowhere. No-one in the group had a reputation, or was known outside Bournemouth. Yet within a short time the live Crimson exerted a wide influence on other groups of its generation. Pete Banks, the first Yes guitarist, was drinking at the bar of the Speakeasy in London on April 9th. 1969, our first gig, when Crimson began playing. His drink never left the bar. Two days later the young Bill Bruford walked home to Fulham at five in the morning from the Strand Lyceum, raving about the group he had just seen.
The Speakeasy gig was small but made a huge impact on its music business clientele. The Hyde Park show on July 5th., supporting the Rolling Stones on their return to live action, propelled the group to national prominence. The audience was huge, perhaps 750,000. And we stole the show. There were also a large number of Europeans and Americans, who spread the word when they got home.
The West Palm Beach Festival of 28-29th. November, another huge event, broke Crimson (and Grand Funk Railroad) in America.
The only record from this period, “In The Court Of The Crimson King”, failed to convey the power of Crimso live but does have the intensity which characterises classic Crimson of any period.
This is the only Crimson which could have had massive commercial success. It also drew as much hostility as acclamation, beginning a convention which is honoured to this day.
The Business
I. A new generation of businessmen, a generation which had grown up with rock music, came into being to parallel the new generation of musicians.
Island Records became KC’s record company after we were initially turned down by Muff Winwood, on the grounds that the group had no image so wouldn’t be able to tour without a hit. This was impressively clueless, given the group was about-to-become the most important live band of 1969. It may be the beginning of my own lack of confidence in the capacity of record company personnel, of whatever stature or position, to know what’s good for an artist’s career.
Marquee Martin was our first agency, but we were unpleased and withdrew. In retaliation, Marquee Martin took us off the main stage at the Plumpton Festival, where we would have played to thousands, and put us into the tent, capacity 1,000. We moved to Chrysalis, then only an agency.
Willie Robertson, a personal friend of our managers, took on the insurance of King Crimson and is now a world leader in the specialised insurance of rock groups, their equipment and tours. Willie continues to insure King Crimson to this day.
II. The key to the group’s business success was EG Management.
EG Management was formed in 1968 by David Enthoven and John Gaydon, who were both working at the Noel Gay Organisation, the management office for the successfully unsuccessful Giles, Giles & Fripp. Effectively, King Crimson and EG began at the same time, in January 1969.
The original relationship between KC and EG was as of partnership. The quality of this agreement - with musicians and management working together, rather than parties with opposing and conflicting interests - distinguished the first phase in the life of KC and EG from that of probably any other comparable managerial relationship of the time. It helped make EG a company which became widely respected and admired in the industry. The relationship rested on trust, and the capacity to be trusted.
This relationship of trust, mutual involvement, participation and sharing in the costs and rewards of our work together, with copyrights shared between musicians, writers and managers, was unlikely, idealistic, remarkable and it worked. The quality of this relationship, in intent and practice, provided a sufficient reputation and dynamism to launch and carry the company through into the late 1980s. But by then things had changed.
The spirit of the early period I have characterised as “realistic idealism between gentlemen in business”. The direction of the company was artist led and management based. John Gaydon left the company at the end of 1970, and David Enthoven in 1977.
The spirit of the original relationship had already changed well before David’s departure, but afterwards the way in which the company operated changed. But that is another story, and not a musical one.
The concept that one could trust a gentleman in business to act in accordance with his unsubstantiated word now seems impressively historic, quaint and pitifully naive. A parallel collapse in the confident assumption that one can trust a chartered accountant to protect their clients’ interests and money, or a solicitor to recommend that a client behave in accordance with common decency and natural justice, leads me to a profound unease when considering the future of our social polity.
III. Premier Talent was our American agency, headed by Frank Barselona, with a young Barbara Skydel. Today they continue to act for ELP. Atlantic was our US record company, with Frank’s wife Joan handling Crimson publicity in Atlantic. Our American management was a friend of Frank’s, Dee Anthony, himself a person of legend, and who afterwards managed several English artists, including ELP, Joe Cocker and Peter Frampton.
This was a formidable team, and a large factor in Crimson’s take-off in the US, where the album climbed to 28.
IV. In the wider business context, the record industry began a period of unstoppable growth in 1968, particularly in the US, which continued until 1978. Recorded music was both a musical and business phenomenon.
V. An especial word of gratitude for Angus Hunking, a retired industrialist married to Ian McDonald’s aunt. In late 1968 Angus leant us £7,000 from his retirement fund which we used to buy equipment and for basic wages until we began earning. Without Angus, Crimson wouldn’t have been able to happen. He died in the late 1970s but saw his investment repaid (1970) and was particularly happy to witness Greg’s success with ELP.
The “Good Fairy”
The act of music is utterly mysterious. King Crimson was my initiation into the magical world of playing music which then comes to life, of itself, as we played it. I had been touched before by the music of other players, but in this band music leant over and took us into its confidence.
There was something completely other which surrounded this group. I don’t believe that we went from abject failure to global musical and commercial success in nine months without something outside the band giving us help. We sometimes mentioned the “good fairy” and had the impression for a time that we could do no wrong, that something special was going on. And it was. At some shows I had extra sensory experiences - of the audience, what was happening or what was about to happen, who had walked into the club, who was listening - that I have never had since.
My own perspective on Crimson is obviously rather different from the other founder members of the 1969 band. I sympathise with the view that the only real Crimson was the first Crimson, their Crimson. I agree that this founding Crimson was charmed, but it is not the only Crimson which has had something else available to it.
Technology
Each live Crimson has featured some aspect of new or current technology. In 1969 this was the mellotron. Available in studios for three years (I played one on GG&F’s “The Cheerful Insanity”) they were rare on the road and I believe only Crimson and The Moody Blues were using them live in 1969. And the Moodies used them rather differently.
Ian McDonald was the mellotronist for this Crimson. They were, and are, beasts to play. The pre-recorded tapes play in tune (to the degree that they are able) with a steady voltage. If the voltage drops, so does the speed of the tapes and therefore the pitch. We discovered during the first American shows that American voltage is not as stable as English. A strong forte downbeat on the first of “In The Court” and the majestic D major strings fell to somewhere just above D flat. Or thereabouts. We then learnt about voltage stabilisers.
The group began with a spread of Marshall stacks and then moved to Hiwatt. Mellotron and electric sax through either could be frightening. Michael used a double drum kit, fairly uncommon and remarkable in front of Giles’ feet. Sometimes during a drum solo he would kneel on the floor and talk to them.
We also used the first powerful WEM pa systems. Peter Sinfield introduced us to onstage miking: his innovation was to leave the vocal mike turned on when the singing stopped. No one miked drums or amplifiers in clubs: vocals were the only sound source thought to need a mike. This changed as we moved to theatres, notably the Fairfield Hall, Croydon (October 17th.).
Our famous light show was built by Peter Sinfield of plywood and Bacofoil with coloured lightbulbs, plus a strobe light. It was considered revolutionary at the time. Peter operated the lights, and in time made such occasional adjustments to the eight track WEM sound mixer (at the side of the stage) as he thought necessary.
A revolutionary piece of non-musical technology was the Ford Transit van, which transformed life for the gigging band. The Transit could carry a full load of band equipment and two roadies, who then hurtled off into the night down or up along the fairly recent and developing motorway system of England. (This was because we couldn’t afford hotels for the night. The group drove themselves to and from gigs in David and John’s VW Beetle).
The Record
The record propelled the group to international prominence. It was recorded and mixed in about ten days at the end of July, following two abortive attempts with Tony Clarke, the producer of The Moody Blues. We realised we would make mistakes, but decided it was better to make our own mistakes.
The record was an instant smash, and still sells steadily.
The Record Cover
The cover was as strange and powerful as anything else to do with this group. Barry Godber, a friend of Peter and Dik the Roadie, was not an artist but a computer programmer. This was the only album cover he painted. Barry died in bed in February 1970 at the age of 24.
The cover was as much a definitive statement, and a classic, as the album. And they both belonged together. The Schizoid face was really scary, especially if a display filled an entire shop window.
Peter brought the cover into Wessex Studios in Highgate during a session. At the time Michael refused to commit himself to it, nor has he yet. But Michael has also never agreed to the name King Crimson. We went ahead anyway.
The original artwork hung on a wall in 63a, Kings Road, in full daylight for several years. This was the centre of EG activities from 1970 and remains so today, albeit in its diminished and truncated form. For several years I watched the colours drain from the Schizoid and Crimson King faces until, finally, I announced that unless it was hung where it was protected from daylight, I would remove it. Several months later I removed it and it is now stored at Discipline Global Mobile World Central.
The Media
Began favourable, got mixed, and was immense.
The Time
I. The easy availability in 1997 of music (mainly recorded) deafens us to its continuing capacity to amaze, move, mystify, excite and nourish us. Adults become aurally sophisticated, and dull. We have lost our innocence and fail to listen, and to hear, as if for the first time.
In 1969 I was a relative innocent, and so were many of the Crimson audience. The acquisition of sophistication is a better alternative than cynicism, but both put us outside the moment in which the musical event unfolds. It is very hard to assume innocence within a field of experience, but innocence lies in wait.
In 1969 rock musicians enjoyed a particularly privileged role: they were taken seriously as mouthpieces for the culture. This was probably the last year in which they were. A main concern of the young generation, particularly in America, was the Vietnam conflict. As a young musician and “hairy” travelling across America in 1969 the connection was unmistakably clear between the peace movement and rock music as an instrument of political expression and the voice of a generation. The demarcation between “straights” and “hairies” equally so. The Hairies believed that rock music could change the world. I have less hair now, I believe music can help to change our world, and now I appreciate that the action of music is more subtle than a young man knows.
II. The outdoor music festivals were a feature of the late 1960s (and two of them broke King Crimson to a large public). A benevolent presence was at work through rock music and rock musicians, particularly in these large gatherings which were the definitive festivals of the period: Woodstock, Hyde Park, the Isle of Wight.
But whatever spirit there was in the air of 1969, it never got as far as 1970. The impulse of which Crimson was a part didn’t carry over into the 1970s. By 1974 the musical “movement” had been corrupted, diverted and gone irretrievably off-course.
III. Any consideration of the time has to take account of the drugs being used. Always a non-user myself, I offer no criticism of those who have. But part of the particular success of King Crimson and the debut album can be attributed to the kind of drugs which were being used: acid and marijuana.
So I was told, ITCOTKC was New York’s acid album of 1970.
Rare Archive Tapes
These are not the only tapes of Crimso in 1969. Some are lost, and some are hiding.
Peter Sinfield’s tape of the Kinetic Playground in Chicago, where we supported Poco and Iron Butterfly (and was burned out for non-payment of the insurance premium), was lost when some of Peter’s effects were lost in transit from Spain to England during the 1980s.
My own tape of Hyde Park is somewhere, lost. The person who sent it to me didn’t have the live Schizoid, so dubbed on the album version. And somewhere I have heard the tape of a New York show which contains the improv. Someday, I might find these in an unmarked box.
I have had a tape of the Chesterfield Jazz Club for many years. This has been extensively bootlegged, together with the Plumpton Festival and the BBC sessions. The quality is awful but, given the rarity and appeal to collectors, DGM intends to release them in a companion edition to this set.
David Singleton’s work to bring these tapes to a listenable state has been, in some cases, a rite of necromancy. This project would have been quite impossible without very recent technology, David’s commitment and perseverance.
These Performances
There have been better performances, but these are representative. The San Francisco show was one of the weakest this band played but, as the last, is at least historic.
These CDs include the very first and last recordings of Crim the Great, beginning at the BBC in Maida Vale and ending in the Fillmore West, San Francisco.
Tapes and Live Performance
This record is true to the music and spirit of the event, but it is also a translation of that event. The time, place and circumstances of listening are very different, and music is only one part of a musical context.
If anyone listening, of a certain maturity, had their lives radically reshaped by this band or these performances (and, Baby Blue, I was one of them) they might be interested in comparing their original experience with this record: perhaps by listening on an exceptionally loud sound system, while looking at a strobe light for five minutes. If, on the other hand, this is a first embrace with Crim ‘69 for a pair of innocent ears, what to make of a band as loved as loathed, loathed as loved, that leapt to everywhere from nowhere, and back again, all within nine months?
Robert Fripp
Discipline Global Mobile World Central, Wiltshire, England.
Ian McDonald
I sometimes wonder what would have happened had the first band stayed together and made another album. Did the group peak with the first record, or would we have gone on to greater things? I have to believe the latter, but as I cannot re-write music history, I must be content with having helped with at least one page of it with In the Court of the Crimson King.
I have nothing but fond memories of my time with King Crimson, and for my fellow band members: Robert, the intense intellectual, whose one-of-a-kind mind probably could have excelled at just about anything (but fortunately for us, he chose to make music); Mike, whose witty and inventive drumming never failed to support and inspire me in my playing; Greg, who brought confidence and strength to the music, as well as the stage presence that matched his regal voice; and Pete, whose vision and enthusiasm helped propel the band towards the recognition that quickly came its way. His subtle but colourful lyrics gave meaning to our music - he was the proverbial ‘fifth member.’
Of course none of us was perfect, and not surprisingly, our relationship wasn’t always ideal. But the weight of material such as ‘Schizoid Man’ and the mind-numbing set-closer ‘Mars’ belied the group’s internal fragility.
Amusingly, the music was given the label ‘doom rock.’ This perhaps was partially true - the band was doomed to last only a year, if that. The term might apply though to ‘Epitaph’ - for me the best song of the album and, I think, Greg’s best vocal performance anywhere.
The band was short-lived but my memories are endless. Some standouts: Playing to over 500,000 people in Hyde Park in the summer of ’69 (our big debut), during which a giant photograph of Brian Jones fell on top of Greg while he was singing... hugs all round from Donovan at a Speakeasy gig after we played his ‘Get Thy Bearings’... a performance at the Change Is club in Newcastle, in which Fripp took a wireless microphone into the men’s room causing unusual sounds to emanate from the house P.A. system... Mike‘s drum solos in which he would amble round to the front of his drum kit and, kneeling down, mutter incoherently with his head inside the bass drum... our first gig in America, which was literally on the floor of the cafeteria in a small college in Montpelier, Vermont... and the flight to Boston the following sunny day, over golden-leafed forests, lakes and mountains - my first real view of the States.
More memories: road crew members Dik Fraser and Richard Vickers (of ‘Vick and Dik’ fame) and the rest of us having to blow dry the amplifiers all night in a Chicago hotel room after the local fire department soaked our equipment (someone had tried to torch the club we were playing in)... the somewhat quizzical expression of the audience at the Whiskey-A-Gogo in Los Angeles when, during one of our collective improvisations, we descended into silence - and stayed there. This resulted in a spontaneous game of “chicken” to see which band member would break the silence first (the answer to this is highly classified information). I could go on, but...
There may never be a second album from the first band, but this comes close - ‘Pictures of a City’ is here from the original group’s last date, for example. It’s been a while now since we made the recordings, but whenever I listen, there’s one thing I know - I’ll always be proud to say, “That’s me!”
Ian McDonald
New York City, November 1996
Peter Sinfield
You no doubt think it is very easy to rattle off a few words, a witty and puckered paragraph or three, by way of a contribution to the ‘sleeve notes’ of these ancient but splendid recordings that probably at this very moment are *£Ω¥!??*-ing your ears. You think that... but you are wrong... it is not easy!
The cursor blinks and blinks. The phone rings. Of course its Ian who I have not seen for two years. He is here in London rehearsing with John Wetton and Steve Hackett for a tour of Japan. He has finished his ‘notes’. He has contributed tapes and memorabilia vital to the album. He offers to tell me what he has written however we decide it is more amusing if I remain in ignorance.
We arrange to have dinner. And in passing try to remember why the key of “I Talk To The Wind”, which he may play in Japan, was changed for the record thus making the vocal harmonies extraordinarily difficult to sing in tune. A classic example of KC behaviour. Nobody, including Captain Jean Luc Frippard, in the studio or when the band played live was ever quite sure what was going to happen. But whatever came to pass somehow the ensemble would make the most, or as often occurred, a highwire-walking, ear-defying, up and down yours, thank you very much for the post card, beast of it.
FAQ. “People know that you ‘did the lights’ and wrote the words but you didn’t actually play anything did you and yet you were regarded as a member of the band can you explain how this came about”?
The long answer is ‘Yes” and the short answer is I humbly suggest, that if you can ever find it, you purchase, peruse and listen to a little known late sixties album entitled “The Cheerful Insanity Of Giles, Giles & Fripp” produced for the Decca label by a sly cove called Bickerton who later became chairman of the PRS. Within a year of its release and demission somebody had stirred a cauldron, pointed a bone, painted a throne and crowned a king. You’ll work it out.
Enough of this! Go! Turn high the volume and relish well the magicke of this well nam ’ed album “Epitaph”; be amazed and thrilled as I was many loves ago to be part of the original King Crimson. Frame, Set and Match.
Peter Sinfield
December 1996
Greg Lake
I look back upon the first version of King Crimson as a band without fear.
There was something very special, almost magical, about the music we created. The original King Crimson pushed far beyond the normal limits of musical adventurism even for the experimental “‘60’s.”
The band came together quite naturally - almost effortlessly - when Bob Fripp asked me to join a project that had been called Giles, Giles & Fripp.
Somewhere between the end of 1968 and the onset of 1969, Robert Fripp, Mike Giles, Ian McDonald, Pete Sinfield, and I emerged as a band that hungered to travel a musical path where no other band had gone.
We didn’t really have a formula; no real idea of what our music should sound like. All we knew was that the music had a life of its own. As we were writing songs like “Schizoid Man,” “Epitaph,” and “In The Court Of The Crimson King,” we knew something incredible was going on. The metallic crunch of Bob’s guitar, juxtaposed seconds later against the soft innocence of Ian’s flute, was certainly weird, but somehow it all worked beautifully.
I remember the first gigs in the Spring of 1969. We played places like The Speakeasy and The Marquee. They were incredible shows (even if it was a nightmare trying to keep the Mellotron working properly). No one knew anything about us in those days, but the buzz was about — “King Crimson was one act not to be missed.”
There was this huge wave of response. The audiences were really into us because we were an underground thing — the critics loved us because we offered something fresh and exciting that wasn’t afraid to challenge one’s musical senses.
And the five of us loved King Crimson because the music truly made us happy.
Probably the most important show we played was when we opened for The Rolling Stones at a free concert they gave on July 5, 1969, in Hyde Park, London. It was a tribute to the late Brian Jones. There were over 100,000 people, and response to the music was unlike anything we had seen. From then on, the reaction to the band was just incredible.
But with the immediate success came a lot of pressures.
We were all very young and it was the first time some of us had been away from England for any length of time. We only did one tour of the US, and there was an instant enthusiasm for the music. I remember great expectations wherever we played. Our reputation had preceded us.
The shows at the Fillmore East and West - both of which are represented in this collection - were particularly memorable, especially the final gig in San Francisco on December 16. By then, both Mike and Ian had decided to leave King Crimson, and I had just been introduced to Keith Emerson, who was performing on the same show with The Nice.
After we returned to the UK in early 1970, I agreed to help Bob finish the second album by singing on a few tracks. I made a single TV appearance in April with the band when the LP came out, and then I formally left to launch ELP.
I often wonder what my life would be like if this version of King Crimson had stayed together longer. I’m not sure if we could have made another record, or series of records that captured the same intensity and majestic aura of our LP and our live shows during 1969.
When I talk to fans these days, they speak reverently of this version of King Crimson and how the music changed their lives. These fans, and many others like them, have elevated us to some almost mythical plateau.
But that’s not important to me.
What is important is that the music from this version of King Crimson has endured nearly three decades, and remains vibrant and powerful even today.
Greg Lake
January 1997
Michael Giles
1969 was a dynamic year for King Crimson. Within 12 months we rose from obscurity to world fame - a meterioric rise which took us all by suprise. The band gave me the opportunity to explore new attitudes in drumming and the freedom for expression that I had been looking for. The music developed a life of it’s own, perhaps in spite of, or because of the different energies of the players. And I remember how quickly and easily we wrote and arranged songs. Everyone had their own agendas and somehow they crossed over sufficiently to create something magical - obviously the right amount of friction whether overt or covert produces results. We were five young individuals committed to making dangerous, powerful, original, spontaneous music, forcing our way through previous rock and jazz boundaries.
The history of the original King Crimson and it’s members has been well documented by Robert, and I must confirm much of what he and other members have said about the band. Ian’s contribution was lyrical flute playing, blistering saxophone solos, and sensitivity in free sections. His strong and beautiful melodies and compositions gave the music the romantic quality it sometimes needed to remain in balance. Peter became the “fifth member” because of his dedication, imagination and enthusiasm. His penetrating and dramatic words not only gave the band it’s name, but also broke new ground in rock music - and his skill with lighting was an integeral part of the live performance. Greg gave a powerful majestic voice and stage presence to the band - his solid bass playing generously supported our wild musical adventures. Robert gave the band intensity, controlled power, dark, searching, brilliant, inspiring and totally unique guitar playing, together with a determination to succeed and a spirit of adventure. It is interesting that King Crimson should be so successful in the midst of the love and peace movement.
Most of the tracks on this official live bootleg do demonstrate how the music had a life of it’s own, particularly the improvised and dangerous sections where I felt, and I think Robert would agree, that the music was playing us, we had entered an area of consciousness where we were being used as instruments and all we had to do was trust in the process of reception and transmission.
Just for the record, I must say that KC’s music was not induced by the use of “certain substances”, although many people have asked me, “how could you make music like that without drugs?” - well we did. I certainly did not wish to disturb the flow of natural energy and imagination. An example of this natural high was when Robert, Ian and I were playing the free section in Moon Child at Wessex Studios and responding to each other freely. Going from the studio to the control room I thought we’d played well. But it was only on playback that I really heard what had happened. We had gone into a free section not knowing where it would lead or how long it would be. We were exploring in unknown territory, not knowing what we might find. What we found on listening back, was an “incidence of coincidence” between guitar, flute and drums that I was not fully aware of while playing and I immediately said, “did we really play that?” It has been suggested that the section should have been edited or that it was self indulgent, but I am glad we honoured the original.
We gained increasing confidence in free sections and played without a “safety-net”, sometimes resulting in some cliff-hanging moments - very exciting for us and the audience. We also began to use more hard improvisation within the structured pieces and alongside the vocal lines. The band was usually at peak expression which gave rise to new ideas almost every night developing in the song. Having set up the freedom to do this, we were always stimulated. This would partly explain why the KC studios sessions can be substantially different from the live performances.
On listening to these tracks I am still amazed at the energy, inventiveness, and sheer courage of the band, even today after 28 years. I hope the listener will enjoy the exposure to the rough raw original KC in live performance as much as I do.
Michael Giles
January 1997
A View From The Road…
King Crimson 1969 US tour and Fillmore West Gig 14 to 16 December
I’d worked with quite a few bands on a part time basis but the Crimo’s were the first to offer me a full time job. In fact, my first full time gig with them was the Stones concert in Hyde Park, earlier that summer. The high point of that gig was the whole audience rising to their feet as one and cheering Ian Mac’s solo during Schizoid - I remember the hairs on the back of my spine rising in unison as the roar from this huge crowd went up.
I’ve worked with 2 live Crimo bands and seen most of the re-incarnations but for my money the original was always the best. For me it was an absolute pleasure to get paid for listening to a top flight band every night.
This particular tour was a great experience for me, I had only just turned 20 and had never really been abroad before. On the tour we mainly worked weekends, and as a result got to see a lot more of America than you would on a normal tour. When I first arrived I was overwhelmed by America and Manhattan — it was loud, brash, the manholes really did smoke, the cop cars really had those sirens, it all felt very alien. They said that you either get it together within two or three weeks or your head explodes over there. My turning point came when David Enthoven (the E in EG Management) balled me out over my stupid refusal to pay for breakfast in Detroit. At that point I had to get it together or be sacked, they didn’t sack me, thank god!!
Goddard College - Rainfield
Our first gig was up north in some college in Vermont. I remember sending my parents a card from “Bear Country”. The audience were completely out of their heads on synthetic mescaline and every time the strobes went off during Schizoid this very audible “Aaaaah” ran round the room - it was hilarious.
Dick was very pleased that truck drivers flashed their lights when overtaking using the same method as in the UK. We had a 20 foot truck as the equipment had doubled before leaving for the States and we also had 2 US guys to help us, though 4 people in one truck is no fun, especially if you’re riding in the back with the equipment!!
The Boston Tea Party
The Boston Tea Party was our first proper gig, Al Cooper was headlining and this was our first real taste of US acts and US audiences.
If I remember correctly it was during this gig that the guys decided that we should reduce their backline kit back to single 100 watt stacks as they couldn’t hear each other properly.
Kinetic Playground - Chicago
In Chicago we played with Iron Butterfly. Peter Noone, (I had been an extra in the film “Mrs. Brown You’ve Got a Lovely Daughter”) first told me about them a year or so before In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida came out. But much more exciting were Poco, who I’d never heard of or seen before.
We were then meant to stay at the Kinetic Theatre after the Iron Butterfly gigs and play one night with the WHO. I was really looking forward to working with them especially as Pete Townshend was a Crimo fan. The previous August, in the bar at the Plumpton Festival he’d demanded to know what modification had been done to the WEM Audiomaster mixer to make the vocal sound so great. I explained that Pete (Sinfield) had taught me that if you turn the treble and bass controls flat out and turned the input sensitivity as high as possible it produced this wonderfully musical vocal distortion. I still don’t know if Townshend believed me. While I’d been in New York on a day off I’d gone up to White Plains to see the WHO play a college gig and had met their road crew and renewed my acquaintance with Bob Pridden, their number one.
We were informed the morning after the Butterfly gig that gangsters had fired the place which had almost destroyed the hall. The fire department had got it under control in time but the water used to douse the fire had completely waterlogged the equipment. Amplifiers were dried overnight with hair dryers, oven baked for 3 hours each and then thoroughly checked by a local techie. Water had swollen the wooden keys of the mellotron. Molly in the English office found and shipped another one out, making us, I believe, the only band to carry 3 full size mellotrons, one of which Robert still owns.
East Town Theatre - Detroit
I think it was Jagger who that year said “We never got it on until Detroit.” We understood why too — what an audience!! The best I’ve ever heard - and didn’t they let you know it!!! There were only 2 American bands that I knew who had WEM PA systems. Big Brother & the Holding Company featuring Janis Joplin, and The Band. In Detroit we linked our WEM PA up with The Band’s and for the first time mixed front of house. We couldn’t get very far away from the front of the stage as we didn’t have a multicore, but the difference it made was considerable. Having four Audiomaster mixers hooked up instead of the usual two was luxury indeed, and The Band were just incredible live.
Grande Riviera - Detroit
Two days later we played a different hall in Detroit, this time with the Jefferson Airplane. This tour was just getting better and better, and I’d wanted to see the acts that were headlining ever since hearing their stuff at London’s UFO Club where I’d worked some 2 or 3 years earlier.
Fillmore East - New York
After Detroit we went back east to New York and the Fillmore East. We’d heard all these stories about how the Fillmores’ were the best at everything. Well, they were pretty damn good. The staff kept telling me how the Stones were going to have Thanksgiving dinner with them in the theatre the following week.
We rehearsed at the Fillmore for a couple of days before the gigs and the band were looking forward to the gig until they heard the first band, The Voices of East Harlem - over a hundred strong gospel choir!!!! We never stood a chance that night - and on the second night the band decided to go on first! I think the only other time that happened was when we played with Free at the Redcar Jazz Club the previous September.
While wandering around on the first day I discovered this mobile 8 track set up under the stage which was recording Joe Cocker, who was topping the bill. After introducing myself, I asked if it would be possible to record our band. To my complete surprise they said “Yes, a good test”, as everybody was using the house PA which they were patched into.
After the set I finally managed to pull Greg and Mike away from the dressing room and took them under the stage. The looks on their faces as they listened to the replay was worth the effort. To my bitter disappointment, those 8 track 2” tapes have never come to light, but people are still trying to find them.
I blew it on the day after the gig as I was invited by David, Crimo’s manager and Dee Anthony who owned the associate US organisation to go with them and Muff Winwood to see the Giants at Shea Stadium. I didn’t tell Dik about it because I was afraid he’d say no to me going. Well he shouted me out when I got back and I certainly deserved it, so here’s a chance to say, “Sorry Dik if I pissed you off, I really didn’t mean to. This was my first American football match - I couldn’t miss it could I ?!”
Raceway Florida - Palm Beach Festival
We had nearly a week off after the Fillmore and then I flew down to Florida with the band, a decision having been taken that 3 in a truck was just feasible but 4 definitely wasn’t. The heat hit me like a hot wind as we stepped out of the aeroplane; I’d never been anywhere remotely tropical before.
We were in West Palm Beach to do a festival where we would play on all three days - I hadn’t experienced that before either. I thought it was great, tailbacks for miles down the freeways, helicopters from the hotel lawn to the festival site and back and a whole host of US acts I’d wanted to see for ages.
As is the way with these things, it began to over-run severely and our set on the third day was cancelled. Hoping to see the Stones I got into a big military type helicopter that was taking people over to the festival site and like another famous festival three months previously the ground had become a sea of mud. As I got off the chopper this scraggy looking chick said to me, “Oh Gee, this is just like Woodstock,” so as there were duck boards to walk on I said, “If you want to avoid the mud, I’ll give you a piggy back up to the stage.” When we got to the bottom of the stage she asked me if I would like to come up onto the back of the stage to watch the Stones with her and her mate Johnny. “Sure I said,” wondering how on earth she had that much pull to get onto the stage. I got let up onto the back of the stage where her mate Johnny was a white albino with pink boss eyes and long white hair whose surname was Winter and I eventually found out her second name was Joplin. Between them was a case of liquor, a bottle of which Janis opened for me and like all good rock & roll stories, I remember nothing about getting back to the hotel that night!!
Whisky-A-Go-Go - Los Angeles
On the way up to Hollywood from LAX, John Gaydon, the G in EG Management took great delight in pointing out the massive billboard posters for undertakers, (sorry, Chapels of Rest) overlooking the freeway. While in LA I stayed in the canyons and was looked after by this beautiful lady called Rosanne who took me to Disneyland (a life’s ambition fulfilled), showed me the sunrise on Malibu Beach and paddled with me in the freezing Pacific. It is no surprise I became totally enchanted with California.
We shouldn’t really have been booked into the Whisky-A-Go-Go. They were expecting a soul band, not quite Crimo’s normal style!! In fact, I don’t think anybody enjoyed it particularly. One night ended with Greg on drums, Ian Mac I think on guitar and Robert on keyboards and Mike in the audience shouting at the band. I’m sure Robert will correct me if I’ve got the “new” lineup wrong.
Big Sur - California
To get to San Francisco we drove up the 101 coastal road stopping in Big Sur along the way. The big trees are famous but I got taken to the natural hot springs by a couple of chicks from a local bar. They stripped off and got in. Richie, one of the American road crew and I thought we were really onto a good thing but we were told in no uncertain terms that sex wasn’t on the menu - just enjoy the springs. We had a great laugh splashing around and larking about. But my strongest memory is of the four of us running about naked for over half an hour afterwards and just not feeling cold even though it was the second week of December and decidedly chilly!!
Fillmore West - San Francisco
While I was having fun, all was not well within the band: Ian and Mike announced their intention to leave the group at the end of the tour. We were pretty depressed arriving in San Francisco, but once again I got surprised. As I walked into the hotel bedroom a very sexy chick announced: “I’m a groupie. Are you in the band?” We owned up, (God knows why) and I redirected her to the guys’ room!!
The Fillmore West, although the place where so much of it started in America, was not as impressive as the Fillmore East. I did the front of house sound while Pete (Sinfield) operated the lights.
While setting up I saw that the house engineer had a A77 Revox plugged into the back of the four, already antiquated Shure mixers, (one EQ control for 4 channels) ganged together as the FOH mixer. The guy let me record our sets from which much of this compilation comes.
This gig is famous for the meeting between Greg and Keith Emerson which led to the formation of ELP. I later joined ELP’s crew and was then put in overall charge but that story is for another time.
Manhattan - New York 1995
Just over a year ago I was in New York and visited Ian for the first time in too many years. I took about an hour for us to recognise each other again. He asked me to take back to the UK these original tapes which I had apparently given to him at the end of the Frisco gigs. He said he thought it appropriate that I brought them back to England as I had recorded them in the first place. I thought at first that Ian meant the 8 track tapes from New York. “Where did you get those?” I asked. “You gave them to me.” He said. “No I didn’t.” I replied. “I left them in Dee’s office. What are you talking about?”
About a half hour later, from the depths of my memory, I recalled the Revox and the recording of the gig.
More recently Dik Fraser was in town and when I picked him up I had the Fillmore West live version of Schizoid Man playing. Although quite loud, Dik instantly turned it up and we were back there again, the living testimony to exactly why there was so much noise about this band.
Richard (Vick) Vickers
1st January 1997
Afterword One : Prog Rock and Its Criminals
I. At the beginning of 1969 Crimson were “Underground” and by the end of 1969 had become “progressive”. After 1972, and into the 1980s, Crimson became part of “Art Rock” and in the 1990s seems to be considered part of a “Prog Rock” revival.
In January 1993 Vox magazine published a Prog Rock special in which its writer suggested that “King Crimson personified the direction that British rock was taking towards the end of the ‘60s”.
This, by virtue of the year, can only apply to the first Crimson. And some, like the original Crimsoids, might argue that there was only one true King Crimson, and no continuity other than in name.
II. In the aftermath of the 1969 collapse, Peter Sinfield and I agreed to continue Crimsonising. The 1970/1 period, in Peter’s view, was the Fripp & Sinfield Band. I sympathise with his opinion, but for me this highlights the fundamental difference in aim between us and which lead to our eventual separation in December 1971. I view 1970/1 as an interim period or, in Crim history, The Interregnum.
At the beginning of 1970 I felt that everything to be done for the next two years would be wrong but had to be done anyway, to get to the other side. What was on the other side, I didn’t know. (This is Standard Operating Procedure for me). In retrospect, my sense of the immediate future seen from early 1970 seems justified by the Crimson and its music, but 1970/1 had its own particular triumphs despite the ongoing and growing personal bickering, dissension and disagreement between everyone involved.
Fortunately, all the main people now talk to each other. One of my personal highlights of 1995 was Peter Sinfield’s success with a worldwide hit for Celine Dion. That Peter’s triumph might be my triumph strengthens my heart. The only continuing personal animosity towards myself from this difficult period and of which I am aware is from my old school friend Gordon Haskell, who sang “Cadence and Cascade” on “In The Wake Of Poseidon” (1970) and played bass and sang on “Lizard” (1970). He feels cheated out of royalties on “Lizard” which he believes he was promised. I don’t, and I hold no ill feelings towards Gordon.
III. King Crimson is not the Robert Fripp Band, this a wearisome subject in dozens of interviews over two and a half decades. If in doubt, ask the other members.
Nor is King Crimson simply the sum of its members. There has always been something other, completely outside the operations of the musicians, the business, the paraphernalia of rockdom, the records, the performances, and everything which gives rise to the tangible entity of the group/s, King Crimson.
My experience of Crimson is probably very different to the other players, and not necessarily any more true. Different opinions, based on different experiences, are not necessarily wrong, or right, merely different. My own experience of the individuality which informs the musicians incorporating any particular King Crimson makes me feel a particular responsibility to the project. Honouring that responsibility has been educational, stressful, joyful, painful, illuminating and not something I would do to earn a living (EG made more money from KC than any of its musicians). Neither does it make me a “bandleader”.
IV. The commentaries I have read on “Progressive Rock” mainly consist of recycled views of careless musical history substantiated by reference to inaccurate authorities (and worse) who themselves drew on inaccurate articles, reviews and interviews, regurgitated over a period of years. If matters of my personal experience are this distorted and misrepresented in the tiny paddock of one small musical field for 25 years, even by writers who consider themselves to be informed and of serious intention, I doubt that history can be reliably written on large matters over large periods of time.
These seem to be common Prog generalisations, particularly in England:
1. The generation of rock which became known as “progressive” is characterised by bombast, exaggeration, excess, self-indulgence, pretension and long solos (by any instrument in the group); i.e. Prog is subtle, NOT.
2. All Prog is appalling - the feeble pseudo-mythical concepts, unintelligible words, fantastic album covers, dopey clothes, bitty and formless music, the rhythm suspect and peculiar which no-one can dance to, or would want to unless deranged by drugs - and at its most favourable it should be hated by everyone.
3. The musicians were all prats. They probably still are, but now they are fat and bald old prats.
4. Prog is universally derisible, and is derided by anyone other than acid casualties, unreformed hippies and the witless.
5. The most successful Progressive bands in its Golden Age were Yes, Genesis, ELP and King Crimson.
6. The main culprits of Progressive music in its Golden Age were Yes, Genesis, ELP and King Crimson. But everyone else was terrible too.
V. The only part of this to which I take exception is to have Crimson since 1970 regularly placed alongside Yes and Genesis, and frequently ELP. We may have shared the same part of the planet and space in time, even a musician or two, but our aims, way of doing things, history and (even) music, are very different.
Crimson’s personal history is fairly circuitous but well documented (although with inaccuracies) and remains available to enquiry, and listening. But not facile generalisation.
One simple reason Crimson is a bad example of mainstream Progressive Rock is that Crimson changed its direction and/or personnel whenever a particular musical approach had run its course. A primary rule of commercial success is to repeat yourself. Clearly commercial success was not the priority for Crimson and in this we succeeded, which is the second simple reason that Crimson is a bad example of mainstream Progressive Rock.
(NB The only time I made money from King Crimson was in the three years after its 1974 breakup - the expenses stopped and the albums continued selling).
VI. Progressive is primarily an English phenomenon (although the Prog Revival is primarily American). The excesses and dopiness of some of its main exemplars bred a reaction of such hostility among young music writers, notably in the English comics that promoted the Punk explosion (NME, MM, Sounds), that the nastiness continues to reverberate today. The degree of hostility towards “progressive” for more than two decades is a clue that something more than music alone is generating the heat. Gushing excess may also be found, but to a lesser extent, and now mainly in fanzines. It is harder to be negative over time than to be positive although, like John Gill, there are some writers who are prepared to persevere.
The Scrapbook to “Frame By Frame” gives a good sample of journalistic criticism, commentary and chit-chat both pro and con. On balance it cancels itself out: a lot of noise minus a lot of noise doesn’t equal silence, but amounts to little of value; and teaches me very little to help me know or do better what I do.
As I grow older I am increasingly distressed at the common currency of unkindness in reviews. I take it as a given that we perceive our perceptions, and understand to the extent of our understanding. Similarly, the reviewer reviews themself: what commentaries on self-loathing, careless and irresponsible opinionation and proud ignorance are these.
A recent description of the current King Crimson (in an LA freebie newspaper announcing three days at the Wiltern Theatre, June 1995) is of “Prog-rock pond scum, set to bum you out”. This immediately became the group’s favourite self-description.
Q. How would you describe King Crimson, its music, philosophy, history, business aims, hopes for the future, job description and your personal role within it?
A. We are, and I am, prog-rock pond scum. Our hopes for the future are to bum you out.
I find it hard to take offense at, or be insulted by, a commentary which demonstrates that life without sentience is not only possible but ongoing.
Robert Fripp
Discipline Global Mobile World Central, Wiltshire, England.
