Performing in a venue owned at the time by Boston band Aerosmith, Fripp’s ‘scaping inhabits a somewhat ominous and doleful character on this occasion. It’s not until 16-minutes into the opening piece that a note of hope is introduced in the slow, shifting sepulchral gloom, and although there are brighter passages in the ensuing long-form movements, there’s an unsettling pall throughout. That music of such glowering mood and implicit menace was accompanied by Fripp’s Q&A with the audience in which anecdotes about his life on the road, many of which are hilarious in the telling (though sadly not included on these recordings), only makes the music even more remarkable. Noting that the club is in fact two small venues separated by a thinnish wall, in his diary Fripp reveals that the soundscapes were regularly accompanied and punctuated by “heavy rock grooves emanating through the wall.The audience were generous and patient, with good comments and questions...Musically, into the deep end: where is this going? I'm not sure where it went, but I enjoyed going there.”
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