CRIMSON TECHNICIAN: ROBERT FRIPP

In the world of rock guitar heroes it’s often hard to separate the musician from the myths that have grown up around him. In the case of Robert Fripp the problem reaches new extremes. Among fans of British art rock, Fripp is legendary for his work with the original King Crimson, Brian Eno, Talking Heads, David Bowie, and others. Recently, though, he’s been the object of scorn as much as reverence, doubly unfortunate as it obscures the fact that despite all of the words written about him, the man remains a unique and extraordinary guitarist.

This fact was first brought to the attention of the rock world (after an interesting but short-lived venture known as Giles, Giles and Fripp) by the release of the debut album by King Crimson, In The Court Of The Crimson King. In retrospect it’s easy to overlook the impact the album’s blend of classical and rock had upon its release in 1969, when it sent a generation of English musicians scurrying to look up the word “Mellotron” and presaged the whole technoflash school of rock pomposity. If he had retired immediately thereafter, Fripp’s contribution to that album alone would guarantee him a certain measure of rock immortality.

Amidst innumerable personnel changes (which eventually left Fripp as the only remaining original member), King Crimson released a handful of landmark albums linked only by the inventiveness of the musical ideas brought forth and by their uniformly awful lyrics. For a while King Crimson adopted a jazzy sort of feel, but near the end of their lifespan their sound developed a Mahavishnu-like heavy metal fusion edge through the interplay of Fripp’s guitar, Bill Bruford’s drumming and the bass-playing of John Wetton.

After disbanding King Crimson in 1974, Fripp adopted a lo\V profile, recording a series of droning synthesizers-and-tapeloop duets with Brian Eno and involving himself in the philosophies of J.G. Bennett. Over the next few years he showed up as a guest guitarist on albums by Bowie and Eno, produced albums for Peter Gabriel and Daryl Hall, and worked extensively with the solo guitar and tape loop system that he borrowed from Eno and modestly dubbed Frippertronics. He also released a solo album Exposure in 1979 that holds up remarkably well despite an awesome diversity of musical styles and ideas.

Unfortunately, Fripp has come under a lot of fire since then both from critics and from fans who thought that he had no business doing anything other than living out their King Crimson fantasies for them.

His Frippertronics tour of small halls and record stores and the two albums that resulted were dismissed as boring. (It’s true that the improvisations Fripp did in this style began to sound alarmingly alike). His love for intellectual theorizing at length in interviews and in his own written contributions to Musician Player And Listener magazine also wore out his welcome with those who wanted a lot more playing and a lot less talk.

Fripp further divided his fans last year by forming and touring with a four-piece instrumental new wave dance band called the League of Gentlemen, which featured former XTC organist Barry Andrews and a pounding if simplistic rhythm section. Although the band was awesome live, internal problems, poor pressing, and annoying studio gimmickry made the resulting LP a very tepid affair. The group disbanded late in the year, making it unlikely that they will ever be fairly represented on vinyl (outside of live bootlegs).

After that experience Fripp went on to form a new band with former mate Bill Bruford on drums, guitarist Adrian Belew, and bassist Tony Levin. Although originally operating under the name of Discipline, they have since resurrected the name of King Crimson, which has raised more than a few eyebrows among old fans. Given the collective talents of the musicians involved, however, the album—which is due out any day as I write this—should be very interesting, to say the least.

In the meantime, those interested in the roots of Fripp’s reputation for devastating guitar work are advised to seek out King Crimson’s Larks' Tongues In Aspic, Starless And Bible Black, and Red LPs, Bowie’s Heroes and Scary Monsters, and Brian Eno’s Here Come The Warm Jets, for starters.