McDONALD AND GILES: McDONALD AND GILES (1970)
1) Suite
In C; 2) Flight Of The Ibis; 3) Is She Waiting?; 4) Tomorrow's People /
The Children Of Today; 5) Birdman: The Inventor's Dream / The Workshop /
Wishbone Ascension / Birdman Flies! / Wings In The
Sunset / The Reflection.
General verdict: Beautiful, if a
bit lightweight, jazz-symph-prog — an epic and logical conclusion to the saga
of Giles, Giles & Fripp.
With Lizard
and McDonald & Giles appearing
on store shelves within the same year, it was actually difficult to tell which
of the two was the real King Crimson
— with Fripp and Sinfield on one team and Ian and Michael on the other, each
had exactly two members from the original lineup. (In fact, since Sinfield also
wrote the lyrics for the ʽBirdmanʼ suite, one could take him out of the
equation and hand the victory over to McDonald and Giles with a smashing score
of 2:1). Indeed, this self-titled debut from the pair, which, unfortunately,
also turned out to be their only record, is thoroughly Crimsonian in shape and
intent; all it lacks to be fully canon is Robert's blessing, and at least a bit
of his guitar presence.
Lengthy, multi-part compositions; improvised
jamming; mixtures of classical, jazz, and folk influences; an overall feel of
tapping into something transcendental — all of these trademarks of early King
Crimson make their way onto this album as well. However, left to their own
devices, McDonald and Giles show little desire to rock out: the album's moods
range from playful to solemn to sorrowful, but never cross over into angry /
ominous territory. Word of the day is «romantic», so much so that it does not
take a tremendous leap of imagination to understand how it was that seven years
later Ian McDonald would find himself as one of the founding fathers of
Foreigner. (For that matter, John Wetton's leap from King Crimson to Asia is
far less credible).
But that would be seven years later, when
«going commercial» and 20 minute-long suites were mutually exclusive
undertakings. In 1970, the climate was different, and although the duo's only
album did not sell at all well, this was due rather to the lack of good
publicity, an established stage presence, and a strong accompanying single. The
music, however, was largely excellent — with tons of fresh and experimental
ideas, plenty of energy, and a couple of sincere loving hearts behind all the
songwriting.
Thus, ʽSuite In Cʼ, whose atmosphere of lightly
psychedelic tenderness is also reminiscent of contemporary Caravan, dips into
just about everything over the course of its eleven minutes — there's R&B-influenced
pop, jazz jamming, brief orchestrated classical interludes, rockabilly saxes,
and Beach Boys-style harmonic shuffles. Whether it all fits together and makes
perfect sense is debatable, but the track never loses momentum, and the
funniest thing about it is hearing Giles go apeshit on the drums and McDonald
go all Ian Anderson-like on the flute and understanding that this is just like
the mid-section on ʽ21st Century Schizoid Manʼ, only with all the aggression taken
out. Which means there will always be a vague stigma of «fluffiness» attached
to this kind of music, but surely there is a word to be said about positive and
harmless emotional agitation, too. McDonald and Giles handle this well.
They get even more ambitious with the ʽBirdmanʼ
suite, which occupies the entire second side of the album with its story of a
modern-day Icarus (but with a happy ending, I gather) that goes all the way
back to 1968. In many ways, it is a fascinating piece, with choral harmonies,
catchy pop interludes, masterful use of kaleidoscopic sound effects, bits of
deliciously funky jamming (brother Peter Giles shines on bass in the ʽWorkshopʼ
section); in some ways, it is a bit messy and unsure of itself (the entire
ʽBirdman Flies!ʼ section, instead of sounding like actual flying, sounds more
like six minutes of tuning up and getting one's act together before advancing
to the real thing); but the track's main theme, briefly introduced in the
opening section as a leitmotif, truly
soars in the ʽReflectionʼ finale — a simple, but majestic piano theme,
eventually joined by a host of instruments and voices. This is truly a high
point of the symph-prog era, combining melancholy with majesty and sadness with
optimism, and it makes me a little sad to see it so hopelessly buried at the
end of a record known only to meticulous connoisseurs of the genre.
For completeness' sake, we should also briefly
mention the remaining three songs on side A: ʽFlight Of The Ibisʼ and ʽIs She
Waiting?ʼ are a couple of pretty ballads («power»-style and folk-style,
respectively) that ooze class, but are not very memorable; and ʽTomorrow's
Peopleʼ, originally written by Michael in 1967, predictably sounds like an
extended outtake from Giles, Giles &
Fripp — a light, cheerful jazz-pop composition with a sense of humor,
something cool to come back to once you have decided to seek a fittingremedy
for post-Al Kooper Blood, Sweat & Tears. Somehow, though, I end up liking
their multi-part suites more: their individual ideas, with the obvious
exception of ʽReflectionʼ, tend to be weaker than their colorful — and sometimes
downright crazyass — transitions into one another.
Overall, I do believe that the record should be
treated as fully «canon» for any King Crimson or prog-rock fan. This is one possible
direction, after all, in which the band's sound might have evolved. Sure, it is
simpler and lighter and maybe even poppier than the other one, but this does
not make it any less... well, let's say, inquisitive
into the laws of music and the peculiarities of human nature. Sometimes I
actually feel a bit sorry that with the guys' departure, King Crimson had forever
lost that tender romantic spirit — I do not really believe that it goes
completely against the nature of Robert Fripp or anything. Then again, perhaps
distancing yourself from future members of Foreigner is a good thing to do...
as early as possible. Just in case. And with Fripp's sagacious art of
foresight, he probably saw that one coming, too.
This album is incredible. As good as any Crimson. Lost classic. Just wanted to say that. Out loud. Picture me saying that out loud, because I’m doing it as you read this.
ReplyDelete(For that matter, John Wetton's leap from King Crimson to Asia is far less credible). Actually Crimson to Uriah Heep to Asia, even more incredible.
ReplyDeleteI enjoy this more than most KC albums actually. Only "Court" and "Larks Tongues" top this for me. It has a warmth to it that KC is missing.
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