Splashy, mashy, crashy, and trashy. No, not hitherto unknown band nicknames but words that might be employed to describe some of the sonic attributes of this audience recording of the Crims in Florida.
The sudden eruption of loud cracks and bangs early on in LTIA Pt1 isn’t the reappearance of Jamie Muir in the ranks but some wag tossing a few firecrackers around.
Mind, if Jamie had any of those to hand who knows what he might have done with them? Still, there’s an incendiary quality to the band tonight as they hurtle through the various passages of Larks’ Tongues.
“Ladies and gentlemen the band has just been awarded a coconut,” says Fripp in his announcement before going on to suggest that some of the more boisterous folks in the audience hurling suggestions at him, be quiet. Thankfully, they take the hint.
The first improv of the night is an explosive thing, moving from early abstract smudges and then abruptly into a frenzied rock-out blaster of a piece. The sudden freefall of the tempo down into Exiles is another example of the band’s tight control of dynamics. Speaking of which, keep an ear out for Fripp's solo in Schizoid Man. It's off the fucking charts.
