This year marks the 50th anniversary of the formation of King Crimson, and also of the release of their debut album.
I was a little late to the party in that I first heard that debut album some time in the autumn of 1970. My last Physics teacher at school, Andy F, was newly-arrived, young and trendy, and seemingly determined to shake things up at our somewhat reserved and traditional (not to say 'stuffy') grammar school. One of his innovations was the inception of termly Friday evening 'school discos' in the capacious entrance hall of the elegant old house that formed part of our school - seen here in a photo that pre-dates my attendance by a few (but probably only a few) years:
By the time we organised the discos, the upright piano had been replaced by a grand, but otherwise the hall was largely unchanged - including the African spears, shields, drums and colonial-era firearms on the wall. In the manner of the day, only staff and sixth formers were allowed to use the main staircase - I imagine that it was thought that these groups would be sufficiently mature to not be tempted to pull the artifacts off the wall in an attempt to recreate the final scenes of 'Zulu'...
Andy asked for volunteers to rig the sound and lighting equipment and, when we conducted a trial run, he produced from his bag a choice of three albums to 'test the decks': "The Worst of Jefferson Airplane", "Pearl" by Janis Joplin and "In the Court of the Crimson King" by King Crimson. I selected the last of the three to play at volume and thereafter, musically, my life changed forever - though this was not necessarily a positive thing in the view of the Headmaster, who raced out of his adjacent office and demanded to know what was going on...
To celebrate their anniversary, the most recent version of the band is playing a 50-date world tour; three of those dates are in the UK - and we had tickets for the last show.
An uneventful trip down on the 15.13, a quick Tube ride on the Victoria Line to Green Park and then a short walk to begin the nostalgia-fest at... ...The Hard Rock Cafe. I used to go here a lot in the 1970s, and then later with Amanda, but we hadn't been for around 20 years.
Amanda seemed to be delighted to be back:
while your correspondent was similarly happy (despite his 'bouncer at an East End pub' stance):
I'm pleased to report that the waitresses' uniforms are still short, white and (seemingly by order) always at least one size too small...
Indeed, with the exception of a few table layouts not much seems to have changed:
Sadly, my 'Original' burger was merely "OK", and wouldn't trouble my Top Ten; Amanda also deemed her Chicken Fajitas to be "lacking sizzle" (they used to come on a dangerously hot platter) and disappointingly "not hot" - and (for the first time since I have known her) sent them back.
I'm pleased to report that the second batch was more up to scratch - a recent TripAdvisor review mentioned the same problem, so 'caveat emptor':
The sweets (apple pie and cheesecake) were dauntingly large and very good, after which we rolled out and started a slow stroll through Hyde Park, along the banks of the Serpentine:
until we reached the impressive Albert Memorial:
and our destination:
The view from our seats (front row, Loggia 25):
The number of elderly, bearded, be-spectacled wrinklies accompanied by long-suffering wives is as high here as at a significant number of jazz gigs:
It can't be denied: as a venue, The Royal Albert Hall sucks. The sight-lines are not bad, but the cavernous space makes it hard to feel engaged with what's happening on stage. On the other hand, the programme made clear that KC were, on this tour, committed to playing at venues of the type that they would not normally, and since the (only) three UK dates were at the RAH, beggars could not be choosers...
Always happy to (not) oblige:
Guitarist, founder and leader Robert Fripp has an extreme aversion to being photographed or videoed while playing, and goes to extraordinary lengths to prevent it. Once the music started the vast majority of the audience went along with the request, but a small number of telephonic videographers incurred the ire of those charged with keeping watch for breaches of the rules; I couldn't help thinking that the disruption caused by the pointing, arm-waving and accusatory discussions was greater than that occasioned by the actual filming, but "Robert's gig, Robert's rules".
With no support, the concert began promptly at 19.30.
Setlist
Set 1:
1. Hell Hounds of Krim
2. Discipline
3. Indiscipline
4. Frame by Frame
5. Moonchild (with solo cadenzas)
6. The Court of the Crimson King (including Coda)
7. Drumzilla
8. Cirkus
9. Lizard ('Bolero' only)
10. Peace: An End (tour debut)
11. Pictures of a City
Set 2:
1. CatalytiKc No. 9
2. The Letters
3. Neurotica
4. Epitaph
5. Peace: A Beginning
6. Radical Action II
7. Level Five
8. Islands
9. Easy Money
10. Starless
Encore:
21st Century Schizoid Man (including Gavin Harrison drum solo)
As expected, the musicianship was astounding. These are complex tunes, with ridiculously difficult time changes, but this band can 'turn on a dime', as the saying goes. All too soon we were into the final three numbers of the main set, and since these were three of my favourites I was a happy bunny. I've been listening to Starless for around 45 years, and Fripp's vibrato-laden guitar line on the main theme still sends shivers down my back.
After a quick exit from the stage the band returned for the crowd-pleasing encore; kudos to Mel Collins for managing to include 2-3 bars of Duke Ellington's "Take the A Train" in his saxophone solo; perhaps even more kudos to Gavin Harrison for including a bar of "Colonel Bogey" in the middle of his drum solo...
An then it was all over. The band pulled out their own cameras and took pictures of the audience, which was the signal for us to all pull out ours and take pictures of them.
Robert Fripp:
Bassist Tony Levin behind drummers Pat Mastelloto, Jeremy Stacey and Gavin Harrison:
Second guitarist and lead vocalist Jakko Jakszyk leaves the stage:
Out, and a leisurely stroll back to Knightsbridge Tube station and thence to St Pancras.
A straightforward run home, with the added bonus that since this was not a Friday night, the last train still had a trolley service.
The Leicester Mercury Clock shows the time of our arrival into the Station Car Park:
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