Ah, "Starless" ...
Man, this is a great song. (King Crimson, in case you didn't know. Now you do, and you should seek this song out if you've never heard it.)
Right now, it's the slow, beautiful early movement ... melody and countermelody, with the floating Mellotron underneath and the absofreakinglutely loveliest guitar work I've ever heard from Robert Fripp.
Ah, and now the ominous bit with John Wetton's bass gradually getting heavier, Bill Bruford dropping in odd bits of percussion before he locks in the beat -- and that single-string guitar antisolo, building to a scream over that monster-movie rhythm section.
Call and response -- here comes the jazz, the return of Mel Collins, and co-founder Ian McDonald back in the fold. Ah, Fripp, why'd you break up this bunch before McDonald rejoined officially? (OK, the part of me that also loves UK forgives you ... but this was a great incarnation of the old King.)
A short instrumental reprise of the original vocal theme ... Fripp attacks the guitar for one more frenetic, fiery burst ... and then, we're in the home stretch, the early guitar melody replayed on saxophone, this time given muscle and impetus by Wetton and Bruford.
And then ... it's over. For all the sometimes-deserved slagging prog gets for being overlong and wanky, these twelve-plus minutes just fly by.
And "Starless" gets better every time I hear it.
Should KC ever be inducted into the Rock Hall (a longer-than-long shot, I know, but I can dream), this should be one of the songs played at the induction. And yeah, the jam should include everyone who was ever in the group. It'll work, somehow.
And when the whole ensemble kicks into "21st Century Schizoid Man," every posing, tattooed, so-called shock rocker in the place will wet himself in pure terror.
Right now, it's the slow, beautiful early movement ... melody and countermelody, with the floating Mellotron underneath and the absofreakinglutely loveliest guitar work I've ever heard from Robert Fripp.
Ah, and now the ominous bit with John Wetton's bass gradually getting heavier, Bill Bruford dropping in odd bits of percussion before he locks in the beat -- and that single-string guitar antisolo, building to a scream over that monster-movie rhythm section.
Call and response -- here comes the jazz, the return of Mel Collins, and co-founder Ian McDonald back in the fold. Ah, Fripp, why'd you break up this bunch before McDonald rejoined officially? (OK, the part of me that also loves UK forgives you ... but this was a great incarnation of the old King.)
A short instrumental reprise of the original vocal theme ... Fripp attacks the guitar for one more frenetic, fiery burst ... and then, we're in the home stretch, the early guitar melody replayed on saxophone, this time given muscle and impetus by Wetton and Bruford.
And then ... it's over. For all the sometimes-deserved slagging prog gets for being overlong and wanky, these twelve-plus minutes just fly by.
And "Starless" gets better every time I hear it.
Should KC ever be inducted into the Rock Hall (a longer-than-long shot, I know, but I can dream), this should be one of the songs played at the induction. And yeah, the jam should include everyone who was ever in the group. It'll work, somehow.
And when the whole ensemble kicks into "21st Century Schizoid Man," every posing, tattooed, so-called shock rocker in the place will wet himself in pure terror.