Red Prog After the first band’s implosion, ’s determination to keep the King alive meant its follow-up, , echoed their startling debut. Reminiscent of , this mellotron-drenched anthem – with ’s sonorous choir and Michael Giles’ thunderous drumming – is a somewhat overlooked classic. With their third album, , Fripp augmented a transitional line-up with top-drawer jazz players to create an epic, sprawling, chaotic clash of styles veering from sparse, cinematic moodiness to free-form skirmishing.
Scattered with pianist ’s splintered notes, a chillingly solemn Fripp solo guides the piece to a thrilling conclusion. Propelled by Ian Wallace’s jazz-inspired drumming, swirling Mellotron, Mel Collins’ furious sax and Boz Burrell’s galloping bass, Fripp’s solo, laid down on the last day of recording of their fourth album, , unleashes a metallic collision of lines and chords that sounds like nothing before it in the Crimson canon. King Crimson always had a soft spot for ballads and this is one of their best.
With lyrics inspired by Rembrandt’s painting of the same name, Fripp’s resplendent solo – recorded in a single first take – is a thing of beauty, but don’t miss ’s subtle, exquisite bass detail supporting it. The title track to Crimson’s is, paradoxically, a live recording. Complex and haunting, though fans believed this a meticulously composed piece, it’s entirely improvised.
’ atmospheric swathes of Mellotron provides a luminous backdrop as .