* from the pages of GUITAR magazine, March 1996 *
In another line of business
religion perhaps
Robert Fripp would have made an exceptional cult leader. Small in stature, lofty in
conversation, always dressed in some elegant quasi-peasant garb, Fripp commands
the attention of the faithful with well-chosen words and high ideals. Like a
religious leader, he expects and demands understanding of what he does and says,
and doesn't like to be questioned about it. If one does not or cannot understand
Fripp and his ways, then perhaps that person should go elsewhere, saving them
the trouble of wasting their own time and Robert's.
But Robert Fripp is not a cult leader, at least not in the religious sense
of the word. He is a guitarist. More important, he is the guitarist and founder
of King Crimson, one of the most adventurous and intelligent bands to ever plug
electric guitars into effects racks. Crimson's perpetual status as a band of
musician's musicians may otherwise qualify Fripp as a cult leader, but Fripp
must deal with the world in the somewhat more earthly role of guitarist.
That is why he is sitting in a conference room high above New York's Central
Park. As distasteful as he may find the task, he must talk about King Crimson,
the recent THRAK record and tour, Guitar Craft, Frippertronics, and a host of
other topics people find interesting. For if Fripp does not talk about them,
then fewer people will know about them, and that defeats the purpose of his
mission, which is to spread the musical message of Fripp. If Fripp doesn't talk
about Fripp, then Fripp might not get to do Fripp-like things for very long. In
other words, if he doesn't promote himself (which he does very well, by the
way), then who will?
In this subdued and paneled environment, complete with plates of fruit and
cheese, Fripp's voice is eerily like that of Cary Grant. There are no other
members of King Crimson here. He is polite and proper in the best British
tradition, almost painfully so, but not without occasional traces of humor. It
is hard to tell sometimes whether he is grinning or grimacing, as his face is a
perfectly controlled mask. If there were a bit more animation about him,maybe he
would actually be the embodiment of the Crimson King. Instead, he is the owlish,
pedantic face of King Crimson, given to eccentric beliefs and joy-curdling
banter. Fripp does not do interviews with other members of the band, not does he
hang out with them after shows when they meet with fans. When he does talk to
people outside the band, it is on his terms, and his terms alone. Not
surprisingly, he refers to himself in the third person,as in, "Now if
Robert were to sayŠ" or "It is Fripp's belief thatŠ"
It is unclear on this particular day whether Fripp will just talk, or
whether he will answer any questions at all. As he says, It's our
interview." But without any hesitation, he jumps into the story of the
reformation of Crimson, which hasn't played together in a decade.
"Music began to fly around me in 1986, 1987, and by 1990
I had realized it was King Crimson music. It began to be more clear when Adrian
came to see me in England around 1991 and said, 'Let's do King Crimson again.'
But Adrian had a few difficulties with my role in the band at the time. He
resolved it for himself when he realized that Robert's function is quality
control. I have the quality of knowing: not whether Crimson is good or bad, but
recognizing the specific nature of what can actually be called quality. When
Crimson is ready I know. I know. How can I know? Well, after all this
time, how can I not know? It's Crimson."
Much has been written over the years about Fripp's eccentricity. He has very
defined ideas about the music business (which he believes has no interest in
music or musicians), about the way the guitar should be playted (with
concentration, thought, and purpose), and about King Crimson (which he
resurrects "only when there is Crimson music waiting to be played").
He is also very proud of his new Crimson lineup, which he bills as a double
trio: it consists of Fripp and Adrian Belew on guitars, Trey Gunn and Tony Levin
on touch guitars (like the Stick
Levin also
plays bass), and Bill Bruford and Pat Mastelotto on drums. An unlikely and
unusual configuration, to say the least.
"Music so wishes to be heard that it sometimes calls on unlikely
characters to give it voice."
This is part of Fripp's mantra about music needing to find a voice through
the appropriate vehicles. But where did the double trio concept come from?
"The picture of a double trio formation appeared in a flash while I was
driving past our village church near Salisbury one afternoon in the autumn of
1992. There was a school on the left, a church on the right, and I saw the
double trio: two sets of guitars, two sets of basses, two sets of drums. The
double trio was not what I intended, expected, nor wanted, but I trust this
point of seeing sufficiently to act upon it."
And the title for the group's latest album?
"There are two definitions for 'thrak': one
a sudden and
precisely directed impact moving from intention and commitment, in service of an
aim; two the
sound of 117 guitars almost striking the same chord simultaneously."
Picture if you will the sight of dozens of Fripp's guitar students all
hitting the same chord, in Fripp-derived tuning, at the same time. The
resultant din is Fripp's symbolic representation for Thrak.
