It’s always interesting hearing the reaction of a crowd when Crimson swoop in from the out-there and the unknown into something they know. On this occasion, it's the incredulous “ah!” the audience produces when the violin motif emerges out of the ambiguous introduction. It perhaps also indicates just how quickly fans had taken the new incarnation to their heart, recognising it as a significant statement of intent from the group.
An even newer composition of importance comes in the form of Fracture. At this point, the piece is still in development and includes a jazz-rocky bass riff that they’d ultimately drop but which would eventually find a home in the soloing sections of Starless. In the final section, things get a bit messy, with Wetton in particular losing his count in the final bars. However, this is still a work in progress, warts and all.
Working things out in real time was always part of this band’s magical appeal and the one improv that’s captured here has the Crims in a very exploratory mood. The grainy audio quality means that we are only getting a tiny fraction of the introspective playing that weaves between the unerring pulse of Bruford’s drum machine during the introductory section. When Bill takes over the kit drums Wetton is like a greyhound out of a trap with curt, bruising bass runs. When the metronomic beat returns the mood quietens down and there’s a wonderful resolution with tinkling glockenspiel, Mellotron flutes that in turn lead into a shock cold opening of Larks Tongues In Aspic Part 2. Stirring stuff indeed.
