Review Summary: King Crimson is feeling like a machine...
Perhaps, King Crimson has remained the most consistent classic progressive band up to this day. They never became overambitious as
Yes did, or disowned their original sound for pop flavour like
Genesis. This consistency is only a greater achievement considering their (especially in the 70’s) ever-changing formation. Their fourth album
Islands, the last with Peter Sinfield as a lyricist, is the most obvious candidate for worst Crim album, but still had its unique transcendent style despite being poorly improvised.
Beat and
Three of a Perfect Pair were also quite the disappointment after the superb 80’s comeback
Discipline, but really,
really, who can rightly claim a single King Crimson record is
not worth at least one listen for the seasoned progressive fan?
Those would be the people having had to deal with
The ConstruKction of Light.
It was inevitable, of course. Virtually no musical groups can put an end to their career without having put at least one spot of shame in their discography, and King Crimson are no exception to this rule. 11 studio albums, they prevailed, their work ranging from relative lows ‘slightly disappointing’ to as high as ‘an uncanny masterpiece’.
The ConstruKction of Light, however, is not just slightly disappointing. It is a incredibly poor record, especially by the standards this compelling group has set throughout their career.
The issue at hand here is that King Crimson has become too caught up in the dense and heavy sound set with
THRAK. So much, in fact, that they sound drained of all sorts of emotion and passion: mechanical. Such is the word to best describe
The ConstruKction of Light, a record that feels uncomfortably cold and empty. It still has many things Crimson, of course: the piercing riffs varied with lighter tones, continuing tempo changes, the works. The way those are carried out, however, is lifeless. This record lacks a heart, and with the exception of the minor standouts
Into the Frying Pan (saved by Belew's charisma) and closer
Heaven and Earth (a more ambient piece), the 56-minute ride is like being caught in a bad dream; a bleak world where everything keeps revolving and nothing really feels warm or familiar.
It’s the droning sound and ditto voice of
ProzaKc Blues; the machine-like performance of
The World's My Oyster Soup Kitchen Floor Wax Museum (yes, that's the actual song title); the headache-inducing experimentation and improvisation of the title track and Part IV of the
Larks’ Tongues in Aspic series: they just never seem to end. Everything about the album feels wrong and unapproachable, and nothing really makes sense. You can’t even wonder what Fripp was thinking when he created this mess of unpleasant sounds that weaves a thick and cold musical rail.
The ConstruKction of Light is an unpleasant world to be found in. In some way, King Crimson found a way to create a record that just is a musical nightmare: impossible to sit through, and a horrid, forced experience if you succeed. While the sound is distinctively Crim, the typical sounds of the group’s post-
Discipline-era are cold and lifelessly bound together, with the exception of two tracks that don’t work anyway because they’re an inevitable part of a whole. And that whole, to be frank, is rather bad. The most diehard of Crimson fans should still take a firm step away from this album.
The ConstruKction of Light's King Crimson was:
- Robert Fripp ~ Lead Guitar
- Robert Steven ‘Adrian’ Belew ~ Lead Vocals, Rhythm Guitar
- Trey Gunn ~ Warr Guitar
- Lee Patrick 'Pat' Mastelotto ~ Drums
TO BE CONTINUED...
