Greetings, Spirit of Cecilia readers! In this post, Brad Birzer, Erik Heter, and Tad Wert revisit three progressive classics: Discipline, Beat, and Three of a Perfect Pair, from King Crimson.

Tad: Brad and Erik, I am so looking forward to hearing your thoughts on these albums! We haven’t really delved into the incredibly large and diverse discography of King Crimson, and Discipline is a personal favorite of mine. It came out in 1981, after most fans assumed Robert Fripp had put King Crimson to rest for good. As a matter of fact, on their previous album, the 1974 live set USA, Fripp put R.I.P. on the back cover. That album is another favorite of mine, featuring the formidable lineup of Fripp (guitar), Bill Bruford (percussion), John Wetton (bass and vocals), and David Cross (violin). This is the same group that recorded Lark’s Tongues In Aspic (with Jamie Muir added on percussion) and Starless and Bible Black. This group was ferocious in its ability to improvise, but apparently it was exhausting for all involved.

So it was quite surprising when word got out that Fripp was rehearsing a new lineup for King Crimson: Bruford (again), Tony Levin (bass and stick), and Adrian Belew (guitar and vocals). I was a subscriber to Musician magazine at the time, and it started running a series of “diary” entries from Fripp that detailed his excitement (and worries) about the music they were creating.

As interested as I was in what this new iteration of KC was going to sound like, nothing could have prepared me for Discipline. I was familiar with Belew from his work with Talking Heads and David Bowie, but I hadn’t heard him sing before. I knew Tony Levin was a much-in-demand bassist, but I didn’t realize how much of a pioneer he was with the Chapman Stick. The shift in style from Starless and Bible Black to Discipline is one of the most radical metamorphoses in rock history. And what is so impressive is that they pull it off – pleasing long time fans and attracting new wave listeners. 

When it came out, I was in college, and one of my suitemates got a copy. We listened to it several times in one evening, trying to understand what Fripp et al. were doing. To my ears, it was the perfect marriage of challenging, yet accessible rock. The cover art was understated and perfect: Bright red with a basic silver font simply stating, “King Crimson Discipline”, and a Celtic knot that isn’t easily untangled. Rhythmically, it was very straightforward. Melodically, it was almost minimalist in its composition, but it fit in comfortably with what groups like Talking Heads, The Police, Ultravox, and Simple Minds were producing. The more I listened, the more I was taken with it.

Okay, I’ve rambled on for too long! How did Discipline strike you, Brad, when you first heard it?

Brad: Tad, what a wonderful way to start us off.  Thank you so much for your many good thoughts on this.  Sadly, I won’t be able to match your good introduction.  Yet, I loved reading about yours.

Though I grew up with progressive rock–Yes, Jethro Tull, and Kansas, in particular–I knew nothing about King Crimson until my college years.  I didn’t start college until 1986 (and the three Discipline-era albums had already come out), and I first encountered the band through a radio station copy of Beat and, in particular, the song “Neal and Jack and me”–which I instantly fell in love with.  

I remember being taken with the minimalist cover and diving into the music.  

After encountering it at the radio station, I purchased a copy of Beat, and, from there, I bought Discipline and Three of a Perfect Pair.  To me, these three albums have to go together, one followed by another.  I really have a hard time thinking of any one of the three–red, blue, and yellow–in isolation from the other.  As such, I came VERY late to In the Court of the Crimson King, and the albums had progressed so much that I had a very hard time thinking of “my” King Crimson as the King Crimson of “In the Court. . .”  Much later, I would buy Thrak–which has far more in common with Discipline-era King Crimson than the original King Crimson albums.

I knew very little about Adrian Belew or Robert Fripp, but I’d been a long time fan of Bill Bruford because of Yes and Tony Levin because of Peter Gabriel.  So, I was really curious as to what they were up to.

Additionally–should I admit this here???–though I never had a religious fundamentalist phase, I was returning to my childhood Catholicism (I’m what’s called a “revert” in Catholic circles) at the same time that I first encountered Discipline, Beat, and Three of a Perfect Pair, and I was really freaked out that the band named themselves after the devil!  I thought, what a crazy thing to do.  Why would you even mess with such a thing?

That stated. . .

I’ll do my best to focus on Discipline, though, for this dialogue.  Tad, for better or worse, I often think of Discipline-era King Crimson as New Wave Prog, in the same way I think of Rush’s Power Windows, Yes’s Drama, or The Fixx’s Reach the Beach.  It’s definitely progressive, but in such an early 1980s way.

Tad: Brad, I agree that Discipline, Beat, and Three of a Perfect Pair make a seamless trilogy. It must have been deliberate – look at the artwork for them: same font with a single icon on each. As a lover of symmetry, I have always been bowled over by this series of album covers. I even framed them when I was first married, and my understanding wife let me hang them on our den wall!

 Your characterization of this music as New Wave Prog is perfect. I think you’ve created a hitherto unknown genre of music, but one that, with hindsight makes sense! At the time, it seemed to just fit in with all the weird and crazy music being produced in the early 80s.

Okay, let’s discuss the songs on Discipline. It opens with “Elephant Talk”, in which Belew bellows, 

“Talk, it’s only talk

Arguments, agreements, advice, answers

Articulate announcements

It’s only talk”

 while his guitar emits sheets of cascading sound. Levin lays down nimble basslines on his Stick, and Bruford plays a cacophonous yet steady racket on drums. All the while, Fripp is furiously pushing out scales on his guitar and creating a soundbed for the others to play on. Each verse is a list of synonyms for verbalizing in alphabetical order: the first is all A’s, the second all B’s, etc. This illustrates an aspect that I love so much about this iteration of KC: their sense of humor. Even though the music can be crushingly dense at times, there is a feeling of fun and sheer joy in it.

Erik: Like you, Brad, I was a latecomer to King Crimson – for the most part anyway.  I do remember hearing Discipline once or twice when it first came out, but to use a Heinlein-ism, I absolutely did not grok it at all.  So I put it aside for well over a decade and a half before finally revisiting it.  In the meantime, I had purchased In the Court of the Crimson King, Lizard, and most importantly (for the purposes of priming the pump for Discipline), Larks Tongues in Aspic.  While the latter is quite different from Discipline-era Crimson, if one listens close enough they can hear a few stylistic threads connecting them (and indeed, Three of a Perfect Pair includes Larks Tongues in Aspic Part III).  If anything, I think the music of Discipline and the subsequent two albums is where they would have ended up anyway if they hadn’t broke up in 1974.  

Another thing Brad – like Tad, I think your description of Discipline-era Crimson as New Wave Prog hits the nail on the head.  The music has so much of that quality in other 80’s music that was described by the phrase once uttered by Yes’s Tony Kaye – dimensionally sparse.  No previous Crimson album ever left as much space between the instruments as Discipline and its two successors did.  This description applies to a majority of the album, with the notable exceptions of Indiscipline and Thela Hun Ginjeet.  Because of this approach, Discipline fit in with the contemporaneous music of the early 80’s as well as the early Crimson albums fit in with that of the early 70s.  

What makes these albums familiar to Crimson fans was the presence of Fripp and Bruford, who were well-established by the release of Discipline.  What made them fresh was the presence of newcomers Belew and Levin.  Belew brought in the quirky, New Wave-y 80s vocal stylizations that he learned during his time with the decidedly non-prog Talking Heads.  Meanwhile, Levin brought in not only a new way of playing bass, but also introduced to Crimson the Chapman stick and the new sounds that came with it.  When it was all thrown into the same pot, the result was a type of music that was eclectic and often intricate.

If I had to pick some favorite songs off of the album, there are three that really stand out to me.  First is the easy, breezy Matte Kudasai, the uptempo romp of Thela Hun Ginjeet, and the instrumental The Sheltering Sky.  The latter two of these tracks include some of the best percussion work Bill Bruford has ever performed in any of the bands he’s been in – which is quite a statement considering his pedigree.  In Thela Hun Ginjeet, Brufords drumming comes in fast and furious yet with exquisite precision.  In The Sheltering Sky, Bruford’s percussion is almost understated and yet still manages to demand the listener’s attention.  This track also includes both Belew and Fripp on the weird, wonderful guitar synthesizer.

I’m still relatively new to the latter two albums of this trio, so I’ll visit those in my next entry.  For now, back to you guys!

Tad: Erik, thank you for your insights on this album! I’m glad you brought attention to Bruford’s contributions. One thing I remember from those articles Fripp published in Musician is how he kept trying to rein in Bruford, because he wanted this music to be disciplined. 

If I had to pick my favorite songs, it would be “Frame By Frame” and “The Sheltering Sky”. In the former, I really like the relentless groove that Fripp, Levin, and Belew set up, while Belew’s and Levin’s vocals hover delicately above it all. 

I agree with you about Bruford’s excellent percussion work in “The Sheltering Sky” – I have a DVD of a concert they performed at the time this album came out, and Bruford is masterful on congas while Fripp wigs out on guitar. I love the way the song takes its time building – it’s quite a while before Levin enters on Stick, and when he does, it brings the music to another level. I don’t think Fripp ever had another guitarist as empathetic as Belew was with him. The two of them traded phrases off each other as if they were of one mind.

Fun fact: “Thela Hun Ginjeet” is an anagram for “Heat In The Jungle”! 

Brad: Dear Tad and Erik, what excellent responses.  One of the things I love most about Discipline is that it starts off with the utterly bizarre “Elephant Talk.”  The band could’ve easily and victoriously started the album with the much more radio and listener friendly “Frame by Frame.”  

Instead, they begin with the offbeat one.  Again, I love this about the band.  They definitely define their own path.

I’m not sure I have specifics about this album.  Again, to me, it’s an intimate part of a trilogy of releases, and, Tad, I love that you had the artwork displayed.  What would we do without our loving and forgiving wives!

And, I would agree, my favorites among these tracks are “Frame by Frame” with its relentless roar, and “The Sheltering Sky” which feels like a Talk Talk song from the same period, at least in terms of its rhythm.

I mentioned this above, but my favorite album of the trilogy is Beat, as it combines the weirdness of “Elephant Talk” with the accessible and intense sounds of “Frame by Frame.”  

“I’m a 1952 Studebacker coupe!”

But, I also really love the title track of Three of a Perfect Pair.  So wonderfully quirky.

Tad: It’s a tough call, but I think this iteration of King Crimson is my favorite. At least, I come back to these three albums more than any others in Crimson’s long, long career. I don’t think Fripp ever assembled a more talented crew than these four guys, and they are at the top of their game. I never saw them live, but as I mentioned, I have a couple of concerts on DVD, and they make this difficult music look effortless.

As I have revisited this trio of albums in order, I’m struck by how much the “accessible” songs sound more accessible, while the “out-there” songs are more and more out-there. Brad, maybe that’s why Beat is your favorite – it hits the sweet spot between pop and experiment. While it contains beautiful and gentle love songs like “Heartbeat” and “Two Hands” it also has the atonal and terrifying “Requiem”. I think that’s why this iteration of King Crimson packed it in after Three of a Perfect Pair; by the third album, “things fell apart; the center couldn’t hold” (to paraphrase Yeats!). That album contains their most pop song ever, “Sleepless”, while also giving us “Industry”, which is close to pure noise in places.

Erik: While my familiarity with Discipline dates back to about the mid-90s, Beat and Three of a Perfect Pair are both relatively new to me.  Yet one thing that strikes me is the consistency of sound across these albums – it’s almost as if they could have all been released as one triple album instead of as three separate albums.  From a production standpoint, these albums really stand out as being of a particular time.  One odd thought I’ve had listening to these – particularly Beat – is how similar the production (not the music!) was to the first two solo albums of Robert Plant.  Indeed, I had to go back and look it up to find out who the respective producers were, but they were different.  It must have been just something in the air at the time.

Another observation about these three albums – they mark some of the best, if not the best work of Bill Bruford in his entire career.  As a hardcore Yes fan, I do not say that lightly.  One great example of this is Sartori in Tangier from Beat (which, for some reason, I keep reading as Santoni the Tiger … I think I need some Frosted Flakes, but I digress).  Another is Sleepless from Three of a Perfect Pair. Sleepless is also one of the songs in this trio that includes Tony Levin’s use of the Chapman Stick, along with Neurotica and The Howler (from Beat), as well as Industry and the title track of Three of a Perfect Pair.

All that said, by the end of Three of a Perfect Pair, I start to hear a certain sameness in the music, and thus it’s not surprising to me in retrospect that Fripp broke up the band again.  Maybe that’s just how Fripp worked best, in bursts followed by long breaks.  I do get the impression he wasn’t easy to work with, and have read that both Bruford and Belew were a bit miffed when Fripp split them up again in 1984.

That being said, I don’t want to close on a sour note, so here goes.  You guys, being in the same age range as me, might remember the early 80s TV show Fridays, which was basically ABCs attempt at creating their own version of Saturday Night Live.  Both had the same format – sketch comedy, a “news” break, and musical guests.  And on one glorious night during the 81-82 timeframe, they had as their musical guests Fripp, Belew, Levin and Bruford, under their collective name of King Crimson – preserved for posterity thanks to YouTube. Enjoy!