“Now I have to let you into a little secret that I’m severely in the mood for a party,” says Robert to a great round of applause and excited cheering. “But there is another secret to share with you. This is a dance floor. The League of Gentlemen is a dance band. This floor is not for spectators. This floor is for dancers. Anyone who would like to stand and look needs to move back. Anyone who would like to stand here needs to dance.” Listening to these gigs you get a sense of how perplexed some sections of the audience are, a spot of cognitive dissonance if you will; here is King Crimson’s Robert Fripp but the music isn’t anything like King Crimson. Some punters seem not to care about it and you can hear them having a good time. Others are scratching their heads at this strange quirky dance music that is subverting their expectations as to what Fripp should be doing. Playing small venues in a New Wave context very little space separates players from punters and at the end of Heptaparaparshinokh, following a gentle remonstration for the lack of dancing Fripp says, “Staring at the guitarist’s fingers is rude and off-putting,” chiding those young men who are metaphorically taking notes as he plays rather than surrendering body and soul to those crazy beats. This gig also includes Robert’s announcement, after a scorching Minor Man, that he’s going to attempt to win over the crowd with his winning personality because the band has a ‘technical problem.’ As he speaks Barry Andrews can be heard hitting the innards of his ailing Crumar organ.
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