LONG LIVE THE KING!

Released on 10th October 1969, the debut album by King Crimson stormed the battlements of the rock establishment, stunning and delighting people in equal measure. Fifty-five years on, nothing has changed. 

It all starts with "21st Century Schizoid Man", the opening cut of In The Court Of The Crimson King. An interstellar wind approaches from the depths of nowhere, fades, then explodes into one of the monolithic riffs of rock. A moment later a distorted Dalek-voice rasps out of the speakers. 

Cat’s foot iron claw

Neuro-surgeons scream for more

At paranoia’s poison door

Twenty-first century schizoid man

There’s an angular, jarring guitar solo from Robert Fripp, spurred on by Greg Lake’s prancing bass. Some squalling Ian McDonald sax, another running interlude, then we return, as we must, to that riff again.

Death seed blind man’s greed

Poet’s starving children bleed

Nothing he’s got he really needs

Twenty-first century schizoid man.

Then it crashes and burns, screaming.

As the gentle strains of "I Talk To The Wind" waft in, you find you’ve been holding your breath. Exhale with a sigh. This calming interlude offers a chance to recuperate. McDonald’s reeds and woodwinds add pastel colours; Robert Fripp’s brief guitar solo is appropriately reflective.

A timpani roll introduces "Epitaph". Mellotron (McDonald) and guitar (Fripp) state the melodic theme and Greg Lake sings lyricist Pete Sinfield’s story of confusion and despair. The tone is epic, the music sweeping, the lyric portentous and perhaps just a little pompous.

Knowledge is a deadly friend

When no-one sets the rules.

The fate of all mankind I see

Is in the hands of fools.

Although, given the state of world affairs, perhaps not so much pompous as prescient. AI and Orange Idiots. Hmm.

"Moonchild" could not offer a more bucolic opening to the second album side. It is a gentle hippy reverie, replete with acoustic guitars, twinkly cymbals and a hushed, almost reverential vocal from Greg Lake.

Playing hide and seek with the ghosts of dawn

Waiting for a smile from a sunchild

With a mellotron washed fanfare opening, the final track stands out as the centrepiece of this startling debut. Let us, bowing slightly, give the piece its full title: "THE COURT OF THE CRIMSON KING including THE RETURN OF THE FIRE WITCH and THE DANCE OF THE PUPPETS". Sure, this is the stuff that progressive non-believers like to pillory yet there’s a swaggering imagination and a grand rainbow-hued vision to charm those open to its siren call across the decades. Sharing his thoughts about this creative missile in a press advertisement at the time, The Who’s Pete Townshend called the album "an uncanny masterpiece". This from the man whose ground-breaking rock opera Tommy was released less than five months earlier.

The weird quotient was certainly augmented by Barry Godber’s startling cover painting. That face has burned itself into rock history, supported by an inner gatefold that allows us to pore over Pete Sinfield’s lyrics and wonder at the disconcerting moon-face man inviting us into the world of the Crimson King. Inviting? With rheumy blood-shot eyes, an alcohol melted countenance, two somewhat disturbing fangs and a double-handed blessing cum offering, it is not exactly a comforting vision!

The music of In The Court Of The Crimson King revealed possibilities of what popular music could be if liberated from its blues-rock roots, demonstrating a willingness to venture beyond familiar fields while exhibiting a staunch refusal to congeal into stasis. That’s progress, isn’t it? Adventure, risk, an expansion of possibilities.

I played In The Court Of The Crimson King for perhaps the fifty-fifth time today and was once again transported to a world of technicolour imagination, wildly creative composition, brilliant musicianship, and fine production. I’m with Peter Townshend on this record; an uncanny masterpiece that has stood the test of time.

*

Pete Sinfield: 27 December 1943—14 November 2024 

"A prog rock hero" (Q magazine)

*

© Bruce Jenkins—November 2024