RED

Red (1974) is the last album recorded by King Crimson in the 70's, it was also supposed to be their last ever, as Robert Fripp ended the band "forever" before the release of the record. It's the third album by the '72/'74 line up of the band, featuring Robert Fripp on guitar, Bill Bruford on the drums and percussion, and John Wetton on bass and vocals. Even though the band was only a power trio (the only track recorded in this format is the title track) the album features a lot of guest musicians, most notably Ian McDonald, Mel Collins and David Cross. So... you might find yourself wondering what a dying crimson can record, in a word? a MONSTER. Red is by far the heaviest album of its generation. Millions of light years away from Yes's sunny pseudo-mysticism, or Jethro Tull's folk flavored rock. No... Red is as dark as a prog album can get. One of the best things about this album, is it's production: it's flawless! Great editing of the tracks, perfect overdubing. It makes shock when compared to the raw Lark's Tongues in Aspic and Starless Bible Black (wich was recorded live, but edited in the studio). Another great thing here is the songs, although there are only two conventional songs (Fallen Angel, and, One More Red Nightmare) both are extremely well structured. They work great without falling into a lenghty (or tuneless) improvisation. Speaking of improvisation, the album has one! The track Providence, wich was recorded live with violinist David Cross. If you ever doupted the power of the Wetton/Bruford rythm section (wich Fripp called a "Flying Brick Wall")...check out this beast. Wich leaves us with Starless. Now my friend, this tune is by far the best thing that got out of the 70's prog scene. Perfect in every senses of the word: top notch musicianship, beautiful lyrics and melodys, Starless has it all, Wetton never sang so well (at this point...Carrying no Cross...), Fripp plays like it was the end of the world, Bruford is at his best, easily going from a ballad to a heavy jazz part! The final part features a sax solo by McDonald that reminds me of the intensity of 21st Schizoid Man. Then it's over...no more music, no more Crimson. The King is gone (at least this King) leaving this brillant album as its Epitaph.