OK, so the distortion is a bit heavy in places on this somewhat boomy audience recording but if you were lucky enough to have ever seen Doctor Diamond in concert at the time you’ll recognise that when those descending bass chords thumped into your chest the effect wasn’t a million miles away from the results on this tape.
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> However, as your ears acclimatise it’s possible to hear a band that’s firing on all cylinders. LTIA pt 1 becomes a whirlwind as all four members hurtle along. The water section (the duet between Cross and Fripp) sounds beautiful and the coda is delivered with a force and intensity that is impressive even for this group. That outbreak of silence after the final note on the guitar and the applause gives some indication of just how rapt the crowd is by the music unfolding from the stage.
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> Wetton leads the band into the first improvisation of the night and in its early stages it possesses an especially lyrical feel, with a chord sequence that’s vaguely reminiscent of Eno’s Everything Merges With The Night. Cross is extremely good in this one. Later, we hear Fripp introducing some spidery picking, albeit briefly, that would form much of Fracture in a manner that brings to mind Eric Morecambe’s immortal rejoinder to Andre Previn, “I'm playing all the *right* notes, but not *necessarily* in the right order.”
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> Following a tender rendition of Book Of Saturday the band slips into an improvisation that quickly seeks to break the mood of contemplation with something far more fragmented and combative. There’s a period of flux where nothing quite lands but eventually coalesces around Fripp and Cross’s long silky lines with Bruford stoking the momentum. While the nature and limitations of the recording have, in a sense, detached the front line from the back line in these exchanges there’s a sense of resolution as they enter into The Talking Drum.
