KING CRIMSON: IN THE WAKE OF POSEIDON (1970)
1) Peace – A Beginning; 2)
Pictures Of A City; 3) Cadence And Cascade; 4) In
The Wake Of Poseidon; 5) Peace – A Theme; 6) Cat
Food; 7) The Devil's Triangle; 8) Peace –
An End.
General verdict: This one is more of
a "Prince Pink" album, if you ask me.
This is a tough album to rate. It is
understandable that the state of King Crimson in early 1970 was pretty shaky:
with Lake departing to assume his new role in ELP, and McDonald and Giles
splitting off to form... McDonald and Giles, Fripp once again found himself on
his own: the base lineup for In The Wake
Of Poseidon lists only himself and Sinfield as permanent members, while
everybody else, old or new, are formally guest stars. On the other hand, it is
impossible to surmise that this, and nothing else, is responsible for the fact
that essentially, In The Wake Of
Poseidon is an inferior carbon copy of its predecessor.
Admittedly, for all his genius and
inventiveness, Fripp was never above repeating himself. You will find
stylistically, structurally, and atmospherically similar, if not nearly
identical, creations all over King Crimson's career — in the 1973-75 period as
well as in the «New Wave trilogy» of the early Eighties albums. It was not a
crime — he simply liked to milk a new groove to exhaustion every time he'd
settled on one. But this, I believe, is the only
time in King Crimson history where the formula of one album was adhered to in
minute detail on the other one, almost as if the creator was working based on a
strict «give the people exactly what
they want» principle. Even if those people were relatively few in number, and
this time around, I am not even sure if Pete Townshend got to hear it. (Robert
Christgau did get to hear it, and rated it higher than In The Court Of The Crimson King — not that I'd expected anything
else from The Dean of Prog Misjudgement).
Well, to be absolutely fair, only the first side of the album is a structural
copy, where ʽPictures Of A Cityʼ is The Heavy Apocalyptic Jazz Rocker
(replacing ʽ21st Century Schizoid Manʼ), ʽCadence And Cascadeʼ is The
Relief-Oriented Soothing Folk-Prog Ballad (replacing ʽI Talk To The Windʼ), and
the title track is The Epic Bombastic Mellotron-Doused Lament (replacing
ʽEpitaphʼ). That these songs come in these styles and in this particular
sequence cannot be a coincidence, and, frankly, this decision looks a little
cheap and insulting to Fripp's reputation. If at least each and every one of
them actually expanded on that legacy, that would be understandable, but it
does not look like that's the idea.
After the slightly deceptive accappella opening
of ʽPeace — A Beginningʼ (which, due to its featuring Lake all alone, sounds a
lot like many of his solo spots in ELP), ʽPictures Of A Cityʼ goes through exactly
the same motions as ʽ21st Century Schizoid Manʼ: gruff, bombastic, distorted
opening riff, nightmarish apocalyptic lyrics delivered in angry-madman-prophet
style, jazzy instrumental mid-section with brass sirens, free-form guitar solos,
virtuoso guitar / drum duets, and a chaotic ending. On its own, that riff ain't
half bad, but it is impossible for me to experience the song out of context,
and in comparison with ʽSchizoid Manʼ, its almost leisurely shuffle makes for a
far less terrifying experience. Apart from the sped-up mid-section, this is a
song that could be written, say, by Black Sabbath (in fact, the vocal melody
even has a few bits in common with ʽElectric Funeralʼ). A good listen, but
there's a good reason why it never became a bona fide KC classic like ʽSchizoid
Manʼ — too much of a conscious effort to make another one just like the first
one, a trick that rarely works for regular pop bands and almost never works for
progressive bands. Lyrics are fairly good for Sinfield, though: I like it when
he is just piling up scary imagery ("concrete cold face cased in
steel...") rather than going all Old Testament on our picky modern asses.
However, if ʽPictures Of A Cityʼ is essentially
a decent song and only a minor disappointment in comparison, the other two
contributions on the first side are flat-out disasters. ʽCadence And Cascadeʼ, marking
the first appearance of soon-to-be lead vocalist Gordon Haskell, never rises
above the level of soft slurry murmur: where ʽI Talk To The Windʼ had a subtle
dynamic from verse to chorus, and an inherent feel of deep sadness that made it
a perfect precursor to the bombastic ʽEpitaphʼ, this song is a shapeless mess of milk and kisses with completely
nonsensical lyrics and an almost expressionless vocal performance. Another
soon-to-be member, Mel Collins, plays a nice flute part here, proving himself
to be a worthy successor to McDonald, but this is hardly enough to save the
song.
This is nothing, though, compared to the title
track, which, in all honesty, should have been branded with the subtitle
ʽEpitaph Done Wrongʼ. All the elements
are there — slow tempo, moody acoustic guitar, ominous Mellotron
pseudo-orchestration, wailing Greg Lake, stately and lengthy fade-out — but it
never clinches: the deeply gripping feel of tragic loss and impossibility of
redemption produced by ʽEpitaphʼ does not even begin to synthesize. Maybe it is
all the fault of the lyrics, now too encumbered and twisted for their own good
to allow the lead singer to get a grip on them (I mean, at least you can work
your emotions up properly to something like "but I know tomorrow I'll be
crying", but can you do the same to "bishop's kings spin judgement's
blade, scratch ʽfaithʼ on nameless graves"?). Maybe it is the lack of the
soul-pinching electric guitar moan from Fripp, depriving us of the vital icing
on the cake. Maybe it is the relative lack of ups and downs along the way (nothing
like that magnificent Mellotron crescendo in the middle of ʽEpitaphʼ, the one
that breaks like a tsunami wave, disintegrating into a thousand small acoustic
guitar ripples). Simply put, this is one King Crimson song that does not have a
single reason to exist: ʽEpitaphʼ successfully performs all of its functions and does much more than that.
If some face at least were not saved on the
second side of the LP, In The Wake Of
Poseidon could have gone down in history as one of the most embarrassing
follow-ups to a classic ever recorded by mortal man. The good news is that
somehow, as if snapping out of an evil witch spell, Fripp eventually comes to
his senses and begins recording something different. First, there is ʽCat
Foodʼ, the original band's only stab at a «pop single» that even earned them
their only appearance on Top Of The Pops
— a hilarious diversion, combining Lake's passionate vocals with an almost
ʽSubterranean Homesick Bluesʼ-style rapid-fire delivery, Sinfield's clever lyrical
stab at consumerism (most likely inspired by a trip through the local
supermarket), and Keith Tippett's wonderful jazz piano playing which at first
sounds like it belongs in a completely different song, but eventually begins
contributing to the overall feel of confusion and frustration. Perhaps they
should have really called this one ʽLost In The Supermarketʼ — now it's too
late, what with The Clash holding the right to that particular title.
The big epic on the second side, however, is
ʽThe Devil's Triangleʼ, and fortunately for us, it does not encroach on the
territory of either ʽMoonchildʼ or ʽCrimson Kingʼ. Instead, it is a multi-part,
multi-layered, apocalyptic composition loosely based on Gustav Holst's ʽMarsʼ,
an interpretation of which the band regularly played on their 1969 tour and
wanted to record for the album as well; no permission was given, so Fripp had
to change the basic melody enough to avoid copyright infringement, while still
preserving the impending doom thrills of the original. The result, now that I
think of it, is a minor classic that is decades ahead of its time — it is
precisely the kind of panoramic, atmospheric «post-rock» crescendo arrangement
that would be championed thirty years later by the likes of Godspeed You! Black
Emperor, albeit on a smaller musical scale (because Canadians have a knack for
sticking together, while Brits still prefer to retain their solitary pride).
The reason why it loses in efficiency to something like ʽStarlessʼ is that it
is all but completely dependent on the Mellotron, and while Fripp does a good,
sweaty job dragging down its keys, this is still not his primary specialty.
Still, there is plenty of that «black ritual» atmosphere floating around,
making it the single creepiest studio track they'd laid down up to that point —
some progress, at least. (Do not
forget to pay attention to more examples of Keith Tippett's firs-rate controlled-chaos
piano playing throughout the track, either).
Nevertheless, on the whole Poseidon is a disappointment, and it marked the beginning of a
strange period for the band. In a way, you might argue that Fripp pretty much
«sat out» the Golden Years of Prog (1970–1972) in mediocrity, not being able to
fully compete with the symph-prog and folk-prog monsters such as Yes, ELP, or
Jethro Tull, and only hitting his full stride once again after said monsters
themselves became bogged down in repetitiveness and complexity for complexity's
sake. The reason for this, I believe, is that In The Court Of The Crimson King was still very much a piece of collective art, where Fripp, McDonald,
Giles, and even Lake all brought roughly equal parts to the table. Once the
duty of delivering this mix of modern avantgarde and medieval romanticism
became relegated onto Fripp's shoulders in
toto, he simply could not properly handle the second part of it — for all
the different things this man can be, his medieval romanticist streak is even thinner
than Gordon Haskell's voice on ʽCadence And Cascadeʼ. Still, at this point worse
things were yet to come: ʽPictures Of A Cityʼ, ʽCat Foodʼ, and ʽDevil's
Triangleʼ all ensure the status of In
The Wake Of Poseidon as an obligatory staple in the average KC fan's diet.
I can help but wonder if the album would have been better if "Cadence And Cascade" and the title track were replaced respectively with "Flight Of The Ibis" (which ended up on McDonald & Giles) and "Lucky Man" (which ended up on Emerson, Lake & Palmer's debut album).
ReplyDeleteAlso, any thoughts on "Groon", an instrumental b-side that was recorded during the Poseidon sessions?
Also, it just hit me - "Pictures Of A City", at least it's intro, might have came into being by the Court lineup's live performances of Donovan's "Get Thy Bearings".
ReplyDeleteThere's an instrumental edit of 'In the Wake of Poseidon' on the 21st Century Guide to King Crimson, Vol. 1 that I far prefer to the full length song with vocals.
ReplyDeleteBut otherwise I don't see much point in returning to this album anymore, besides "Peace - A Theme", which is humble in its beauty, an example of Fripp's exquisite acoustic guitar playing in this period.
"The Devil's Triangle" has always seemed more tedious to me than exciting or terrifying. Same with "Pictures of a City." The live recordings of early versions of both ("A Man, A City" and "Mars") by the '69 line-up are another matter, though. But in terms of studio performances I prefer the mannered madness of Lizard.
Okay, kudos to Keith Tippet, but the thought of listening to Greg Lake's over-singing on "Cat Food" makes me avoid listening to it.
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The timing of these reviews has me noting some general similarities between Floyd and Crimson. An epochal first album; early elements of British insane whimsy later discarded; extremely significant line-up change after the first album; a period of searching and flawed experiments followed by renewed success arriving just at the tail end of symphonic prog. Of course you have to fudge a few things (Piper combines the epochal space-rock with the insane British whimsy; in contrast, Crimson King's epochal progressive rock has none of the cheerful insanity of Giles, Giles, & Fripp, except perhaps sections of "Moonchild") and the scale of success is different. The collapses and recoveries are mirror images: Floyd loses their truly mad centerpiece and then has to find their own direction of solemn, controlled brain damage; Fripp loses the band, develops his own mannered madness of controlled tension and release while searching for the right band (i.e. the Larks' lineup).
You have to squint a little, but it's interesting to consider the trajectories of each, the personalities involved, and the effect that has on the music.
I think all criticisms of this album being a copy are valid, but I can't help but feel more charitable to ItWoP than you. It doesn't have the emotional punch of ItCotCK, but I enjoy the variations in some way, shape, or form. "Pictures of a City" isn't supposed to be an apocalyptic thrill ride like "Schizoid Man" -- it restrains the fury into a slower groove that's still menacing. "Cadence and Cascade" is a pleasant little piece that I find it hard to complain about, except that the earlier take with Lake on vocals works better. The title track's lyrics are pretty atrocious, but I'm a sucker for the melody that they've got going, particularly at the end.
ReplyDeleteI agree with you, though, that the best part of the album is "The Devil's Triangle" -- not as a true song, but one of the best apocalyptic soundscapes that any prog band made, because there is an actual musical backbone that the madness is built around.
That yellow George, that yellow.....
ReplyDeletedo you want us to select the headline text for every average album?