1) Entry Of The Crims; 2) Larksʼ Tongues In
Aspic, Part III; 3) Thela Hun Ginjeet; 4) Red; 5) Matte Kudasai; 6) Industry;
7) Dig Me; 8) Three Of A Perfect Pair; 9) Indiscipline; 10) Sartori In
Tangier; 11) Frame By Frame; 12) Man With An Open Heart; 13) Waiting Man; 14)
Sleepless; 15) Larksʼ Tongues In Aspic, Part II; 16) Discipline; 17) Heartbeat;
18) Elephant Talk.
General verdict: This is the one true reason why King Crimson was destined to survive the Seventies.
So it took Fripp about 14 years to release a
fully representative live set for his bandʼs Eightiesʼ lineup — and to this
day, Absent Lovers remains the only
such document to be widely available for consumers, although the extensive
Collectorsʼ Club series does feature about 6–7 additional shows stretching from
1981 to 1983. Even so, it is hard to shake the feeling that Robert himself is
somewhat under-appreciative of this period in KC history, preferring to either
plunge himself into Seventiesʼ nostalgia or, instead, concentrate on the
evolution of the band in the 21st century. Maybe he thinks that those years
were a little too pop-oriented to properly convey and symbolize the essence of
King Crimson, or maybe he is subconsciously jealous of Adrian Belew stealing
way too much spotlight for himself in those years — it is only possible to
speculate on this matter, but it is clear that the more time passes by, the
fewer happy memories survive.
Which is, of course, a pity, because from a lot
of perspectives Absent Lovers is the
one most perfect, most well-rounded, most energetic and inspiring King Crimson
live album to ever see the light of day. It may not be the most
well-representative of the bandʼs enormous and diverse legacy — there is no
ʽ21st Century Schizoid Manʼ in the setlist, no ʽEpitaphʼ, no ʽFractureʼ, no
ʽStarlessʼ — but there was no better time in KC history when the band would
actually sound more live in the
fundamental sense of the word. And for that, we do indeed have to thank Adrian
Belew, as well as Tony Levin, KCʼs liveliest bass player: in this particular
four-man lineup, Belew and, to a slightly lesser extent, Levin are the perfect
Dionysian counterpoint to Frippʼs and, to a slightly lesser extent, Brufordʼs
Apollonian structurality (though both pairs of players can occasionally switch
or merge functions if the context requests it). The Fripp / Belew contrast, in
particular, was arguably the most exciting contrast ever — the calm, strong,
stable, confident anchorman and the wild, playful, hystrionic, hopping
entertainer, although beneath the surface you can easily see a strong will to
entertain on the part of the former and a strict, well-organized sense of
discipline on the part of the latter.
The performance here was recorded on July 11,
1984, at The Spectrum in Montreal, which was the very last show for the Belew /
Levin / Bruford lineup, yet shows nary a hint of tiredness or boredom — if
anything, KC only draw rather than dissipate energy for each show they play, so
the later, the better. It also gives us a good chance to hear a fully
representative retrospective of the entire early Eightiesʼ trilogy, with the
best album (Discipline) and the
latest album (Three Of A Perfect Pair)
in the lead and Beat lagging a bit
behind, but thatʼs OK. The bandʼs earlier legacy is restricted here to just two
classic instrumentals from the golden days of 1973–74 — ʽRedʼ and ʽLarksʼ
Tongues In Aspic, Pt. 2ʼ — but both are performed quite faithfully, implying
that the musical styles of prog-era and New Wave-era King Crimson might not be that different from each other after
all. That said, it could be argued that it is precisely the live setting which
draws them closer together, because the difference in style between the studio
counterparts of these Eightiesʼ performances and their live renditions is
stunning — just about every live track here blows its studio original away, so
much so that ʽThela Hun Ginjeetʼ and ʽSleeplessʼ from this album have long
since become the default versions of
these songs for me, and I only come back to the originals for re-reviewing
purposes and such.
The simplest statement of difference, of
course, would be to just say that Absent
Lovers rocks harder than any KC studio album from the same period — which might
not necessarily please Fripp, since this is the kind of statement that
typically applies to hard rock bands like the Who or Led Zeppelin, not progressive
math-rock projects like King Crimson. But then again, at the beginning of the
concert, right after the opening punch of the first two numbers, isnʼt it Adrian
who tells the audience to "have a good time, sit tight, yell, scream,
spill your beers, have a pleasant evening"? throw in a handful of "fuckinʼ"s
and this might just as well have been a Metallica sort of welcome. Want it or
not, this is a rock concert, and if
that means, for instance, bringing the microphone all the way up on Tony Levinʼs
bass, adding a whole lot more «bottom» to the sound than in the studio, well,
count me happy.
Even Fripp is completely happy to get into the
spirit of things, soloing like a maniac let loose on the slow part of ʽLarksʼ Tongues
In Aspic, Pt. 3ʼ and cracking extra fireworks for ʽIndisciplineʼ which goes on
for almost twice as long as the original but never feels like it. Belew
occasionally falters in his singing, which is to be expected from a guy who is
doing that while prancing on the stage and trying to make his guitar walk the
thinnest line between discipline and madness at the same time — we can surely
forgive him for that, given that most
of the time he stays perfectly on key. But in the instrumental sphere of things
I find no flaws whatsoever. Particular emphasis should be placed on the Bruford
/ Levin rhythm section: despite the occasional criticism that Robert may have
had for Billʼs style, I think that Absent
Lovers, even more so than the sometimes overproduced and doctored studio
recordings, shows how smoothly he had transitioned from the symphonic textbook of
early Seventiesʼ prog to the funkier polyrythmics of prog-cum-New-Wave in the
early Eighties.
Like I already said, my own personal favorites
here are ʽThela Hun Ginjeetʼ and ʽSleeplessʼ. The former, stripped here of its distracting
sampled overdubs, lets you hear the «dialog» between Belewʼs and Frippʼs
guitars in all of its insane glory — the «physical» choppy funk rhythms and
chicken scratch of Adrian serving as the basis for the «psychic» cyclic waves
of Robert, though superficially it is all Belewʼs show, as he goes from classic
funky fun to making his guitar sound like broken glass to dive-bombing and
whatever other urban ruckus comes into his mind and back to funk again. ʽSleeplessʼ,
in the meantime, is here revealed in all of its nightmarish power, with Levinʼs
«throbbing» Chapman stick pounding out the restlessness of your brain, while Belew
and Fripp create a solid blanket of demonic terror around it — a genuine beast
of a performance, and a fairly unique one, since, unless I am mistaken, they
never got around to resurrecting the song live after the 1984 tour.
Importantly, if you thought that Discipline-era records were not
altogether free of filler, Absent Lovers
also fulfills the role of a nearly immaculate best-of-live package: there is
not a single song from that era whose absence I would actually miss on this
album. Interestingly enough, they omit most of the ambient-ish, atmospheric
tracks such as ʽSheltering Skyʼ and ʽNuagesʼ: the closest you get to relaxing
and tripping out is on the opening Frippertronic track ʽEntry Of The Crimsʼ,
and even that one eventually descends into Hell before you have proper time to
go to sleep. Other than that, you have here everything that truly matters —
from the weird tribal dance rituals to the avantgarde crescendo build-ups to Belewʼs
pop schtick (I know some Crimheads do not care much for songs like ʽMan With An
Open Heartʼ, but I am quite fond of its pop hooks, even though I admit that
this kind of material benefits the least from being played live). In other
words, if you only have time and money for one King Crimson package from the
era, it goes without saying that Absent Lovers
— easily one of the best live albums of all time — is the true way to go. The
only thing that puzzles me about the situation is why they had to wait 14 years
to release it officially, especially after having announced so proudly to the
excited Canadian audiences that "to top the occasion, we are recording the
evening for posterity". ("Whatever posterity is", says Adrian
after a brief pause, and it turns out that he did have a point).
I saw them on this tour in NYC shortly before the show recorded here. It was stunning, the best concert I've ever attended (well except for the time I saw them in 1982). I can attest that they do really sound this good live.
ReplyDeleteActually they did play 'Sleepless' live in the 90s (B'Boom: Live in Argentina) and again in 2008.
ReplyDeleteAgree with everything. KC were always a stunning live act, but this is beyond anything they ever did (except maybe the current incarnation). Hard to believe 4 people are responsible for the wall of sound they generate.
Also praise Fripp for knowing when to stop before the 80s killed his artistic integrity.
Along with Red and Court, this is my favorite KC album. It remains one of the best live albums I have ever heard.
ReplyDelete"...just about every live track here blows its studio original away."
ReplyDeleteWhat bothers me about this review is that I can find nothing to quibble about. KC's Live at Leeds. In fact Belew, like Townshend on LaL, seems to marvel at their cumulative prowess at one point. "Boy, that's the best we've done that in some time! Must be the last night of the tour or something." If Fripp disagreed, I doubt he would have included it.