King Crimson: A Primer
If you read my last blog, you may have noticed I got a little behind 
in my work. We are now returning to our regularly scheduled program. Without further ado...
in my work. We are now returning to our regularly scheduled program. Without further ado...
“I listen to lots of variety in music.
I listen to King Crimson.”
- anonymous
King Crimson is my favorite band.
Let me explain.
I was born in 1973.
Until 2011, I didn’t know they existed. My very first post about them on Facebook is June 23, 2011.
Growing up, I knew vaguely that Peter Gabriel was in Genesis, but I never heard the early Genesis stuff.
The Progressive stuff.
Before the dark times.
Before Phil…
Before you get upset, I think Phil Collins is an important figure in Prog Rock. He is a fantastic drummer on par with Bill Bruford. Remember, he was the drummer on Supper’s Ready, one of the greatest of the Prog epics.
Phil Collins kissing Peter Gabriel in NYC, 1976.
This was the Peter Gabriel I knew…
And this was Phil…
Imagine my surprise the first time I heard Foxtrot.
Exactly. I felt duped. I felt like the great music had been denied me. Like there was a veil or that the matrix of my reality had been rewritten. I was raised on a steady diet of commercial schlock. Bands that had neutered themselves in the pursuit of fame and fortune and viability.
I grew up when “Prog” was a dirty word.
To me, this was Yes…
This is the only thing I heard from them for many years. When people told me that Chris Squire was one of the greatest bassists, I was agog. I thought the bass line on OOALH was catchy, but kinda repetitive.
Forgive me, dear reader. I had not yet heard “Heart Of The Sunrise”.
Jethro Tull was that Aqualung song on musty old classic rock radio. Even worse, they were the band that “stole” the Grammy from Metallica.
No Thick As A Brick. No Songs From The Woods. No Heavy Horses.
Must have missed this one.
I didn’t even have Emerson, Lake & Palmer.
I had Emerson, Lake & Powell.
I started listening to Rock music to impress a girl with a mohawk when I was in grade school. It didn’t work. The impressing the girl part. The music, well… that’s a whole other story.
This was the first cassette tape I ever bought.
This was the soundtrack to my puppy lovelorn heart breaking when I realized the mohawk girl would never be mine.
Just a few years on down the line I convinced my Great Grandmother to buy this one for me…
I listened to music on tape back then. Records were still around. Compact discs were sold in big long boxes. I didn’t get my first c.d. player until the early 90’s.
Right before I was to begin 8th grade, I was unceremoniously ejected from my father and stepmother’s house and found myself living with my mother. My music world began to open up at that point.
It was at this point that I saw the film, Pink Floyd’s The Wall.
Everything changed for me at that point. I became aware of the power of music to transcend pop and become something larger… more profound… I was that person. I was Pink. My childhood was a horrorshow. I’ve written about it in other places on this blog. I hinted about it earlier. I felt as isolated and unloved as a bag of six week old garbage tossed into the middle of my stepmother’s ambitions. I lived inside my head. My skin was my wall. I was trapped there for a long time.
Music wise, I started to understand the difference between a song that grabbed you immediately and one that caught hold of you in a slow burning fashion. I started to recognize albums with one or two hits and others that were more… progressive.
“The Final Cut” sealed me as a Pink Floyd fan for life. I didn’t give a tinker’s damn about the one or two tracks played on classic rock radio. They were out of context. You had to hear the whole album, man!
Iron Maiden’s “Seventh Son Of A Seventh Son” blew the top of my head off.
I began to appreciate complexity and musical skill.
In high school I tried to become a musician myself, but that's a whole other story...
When I left Illinois for Jacksonville, Florida I still didn't have a musical identity. I went to a few concerts. Alanis Morrissette. Loved that one. Green Day. Billie Joe Armstrong spat on the crowd. Everclear. Art Alexakis seemed like he hated the audience.
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