This one is about Lou Reed and King Crimson.
The reason I wrote that sentence is because those two names have probably never been in the same one. The very idea of it would piss off Lou Reed to no end. And since he can't retaliate, well, he'll have to settle for turning over in his grave. (Wait, wasn't he cremated?)
Anyway, I got these records as presents this year and it occurred to me they couldn't possibly be more different.
One was recorded at the beginning of a career, the other well into it.
One is bombastic and pretentious, the other calm and matter-of-fact.
One stresses virtuosity and technique. The other is more or less just banged out.
One comprises four or five lengthy epics, the other fifteen shorter ones.
One is a fantasy that would make Tolkien roll his eyes, the other a reportage of a man's life and death.
One I enjoy despite nearly being crushed under its avalanche of sound, the other doesn't give a damn if I like it or not, and is, in fact, damn good.
Even the cover art differs.
One thing they have in common, though, is that Robert Fripp appears to be almost as big an asshole as Lou Reed.
King Crimson: In the Court of the Crimson King (1969)
I remember sitting on Eileen's family's stoop with Eddie and maybe Mike, listening to maybe Cream, when Kevin McGowan came walking up the block with an album he just bought at Korvette's. He pulled it out of the bag to reveal the red (okay, crimson) guy and his uvula (I almost wrote "urethra". What an album that would'a been!) and possibly his adenoids.
Covers being all important back then (summer of 1970?), we were impressed, and admitted it beat out Wheel's of Fire. Over the years I'd hear the title song, and caught a snippet of another on Adolph's Kanye's Mein Kampf Dark Fantasy record.
But that was it, and all I'd ever hear from almost anyone was "oh, you gotta get it!". And I planned to but held back, probably due to Xgau's D+ grade and review ("...ersatz shit"...). But finally my curiosity got the best of me.
Firstly, it's a hoot, in a non-fun kind of way. What I mean is that I'm having a hoot at the utter seriousness of it all. Plus I'm impressed that they got to do this at all, in a simpler, more innocent time, when all they had to worry about was wars and assassinations.
I don't mean to be condescending. What the hell do I know anyway? Greg Lake's singing is endearing, and the rest are great musicians with vision who just don't happen to play music I'm inclined to put on. It must have sounded wild at the time. Even Awesome actually, back when awesome was enough.
There's plenty of sixties music I happily listen to to this day. But Prog Rock (my fond memories of Nektar's Remember the Future not withstanding) has a built-in expiration date. In what should have been a perfect fit for me, such seriousness is directly aimed at equally serious (i.e., not getting laid) teenagers who will eventually have to lighten up. A sense of humor would help - the music and the teen-ager.
Otherwise, I'm just there for a visit - and the 50th Anniversary edition, with at least three versions of each song, is a long visit - and then I gotta go.
B+
Lou Reed and John Cale: Songs for Drella (1990)
Not very "lyrical". Just a recounting of Andy Warhol's life by two artists who knew him. And it's all the more touching because I don't feel like I'm being coerced into liking it, which is a hazard for tributes of this sort.
The music, too, is right-to-the-point-simple, but with arrangements more varied than what Reed was doing at the time, which was the straight-ahead electric rock and roll of New York. Even at its loudest, this one - like his subsequent Magic and Loss, which also deals with the death of friends - is calmer than any of those records.
Estranged at the time of Warhol's death, Reed is regretful that they didn't patch things up. He even admits some fault. What a relief!
Cale is tuneful and stoic, even with Lou breathing down his neck. Who knew they'd be able to play together again? Not them, certainly. They would take another stab at fellowship after this, with the European reunion tour of the Velvet Underground. It's a shame that one didn't turn out so well as this.
I guess, in order for it to work, it's got to come from the heart.
A-
