(Photo courtesy of Nicholas Latona)Debut albums are a tricky endeavor. Many bands botch first releases entirely, others play it safe and use the debut as a stepping stone for finding the right sound.
King Crimson’s 1969 debut, “In the Court of the Crimson King,” broke the mold and stands to this day as possibly the most daring first effort ever conceived.
Considered by many to be genre defining and essential in the progressive rock timeline, “In the Court’s” inventiveness cannot be overstated.
The combination of lead guitarist Robert Fripp, drummer Michael Giles, lead vocalist and bassist Greg Lake and woodwind player Ian McDonald is almost otherworldly in its eminence.
Oddly enough, the release of this album would see everyone except Fripp ditch the band, leaving “In the Court” as the only album consisting of the original lineup.
Standing like an obelisk blotting out the sun, King Crimson’s first foray into legend status is unequivocally the most influential progressive rock album ever released. It simply cannot be ignored.
If the terrifying cover doesn’t catch your attention, the music surely will — especially on freshly cleaned, virgin black vinyl.
1. “21st Century Schizoid Man”
Smashing together a torrential downpour of instrumentation with impeccable structure and tautness, the album opener is the perfect precursor for the aural assault to come.
Lake’s plodding and distorted vocals foresee a future of napalm massacres and gluttonous indulgence.
Cynically depressed as the lyrics may be, the onslaught of wailing saxophones, groaning guitars and crushing drum fills will bend your mind into an inescapable psychoneurosis, perfectly fitting the screaming face on the album cover.
2. “I Talk to the Wind”
Immediately following “Schizoid Man’s” sheer eruption of a lush, flute-ending harmony is jarring to say the least. Lake stuns once again with a whisper-like performance that is polar opposite from the maddened belting that came before.
“I Talk to the Wind” is stunning and speaks volumes to King Crimson’s range. Giles’s keeps the complexity of his improvisational drumming alive, but dials it all back in way few have ever done before or since.
The two flute solos make for an opulent and exquisitely pleasing example of why McDonald is one of rock music’s premiere woodwind connoisseurs.
3. “Epitaph”
Perhaps the strangest mix of classical music and brooding rock balladry, this track introduces King Crimson’s prominent use of its signature "Mellotron" keyboard.
Bizarre as it is, “Epitaph” overwhelms with its grandiose funeral undertones and surges of orchestral crescendos and soaring vocals that chill like a lonely revenant’s march into condemnation.
Fripp’s weighty acoustic strumming and beautified arpeggios coat “Epitaph” with a haunting background that echoes the repetition of this revenant’s footsteps.
Every whirl of sound uncorks bottles of despair and desperation until it all swells into a finale reminiscent of the heavens crumbling as this broken wanderer's forsaken exile is revealed to be permanent.
His judgment holds fast and the remains of his desecrated soul liquefy into the tears Lake references through mournful wails.
4. “Moonchild”
Like a deep breath of relaxation, “Moonchild” sheds any remnants of melancholy left from “Epitaph” and ushers in a somber blend of ambient guitar leads and a delicate vocal melody.
Hitting tonally-varied cymbals and filling the gaps with muted drum fills, Giles gives this track a layer of musicality drummers rarely bestow.
5. “The Court of the Crimson King”
The pinnacle of the album is “The Court of the Crimson King,” a medieval anthem depicting a mad king’s court and its proceedings.
The vivid "Mellotron" riff reverberates through the deep halls of the Crimson King’s acropolis as a tremendous choir arrangement trembles the castle’s core.
Wild drums emulate the disarray and turmoil breaching the typically serene estate grounds. Another fluttering flute solo disassembles its beauty into an anxiety ridden crescendo, mirroring the false peace in the court.
The Crimson King addresses the court at the seven-minute mark, silencing the rightfully nervous attendees. A loony synth melody courses the delusional monarch’s mind, coaxing him to strike with wanton malevolence.
A slight gesture towards his guards heralds an untimely death for the cowering audience and, as the towering music bursts back from the void, the court floors are pooled with sanguine death.
Bathed in the innocent blood of his constituents, the world now understands why the king is called crimson.
Tell the reporter about your vinyl collection at nlatona@asu.edu or follow @Bigtonemeaty on Twitter.
Like The State Press on Facebook and follow @statepress on Twitter.
