LARKS' TONGUES IN ASPIC

The biographical arc of LTIA, SABB, and Red reminds me of the first three solo works by Peter Gabriel: the rebellious, under-appreciated reckless genius (Car), the neglected, somewhat underachieving middle child (Scratch), and the prodigal son (Melt).

Underrated in spite of its placement in the "Top Prog Albums" list, LTIA is the first in a trilogy of sorts, and it is a fully formed masterpiece. Cinematic in breadth and scope, it sweeps the listener up in aural espionage and intrigue.

The contributions of Muir and Cross are integral to this album, a fact made obvious in the opening scene. "LTIA Part One" flickers to life on thumb piano like a clandestine message; an ominous warning sent along jungle lines. Once smuggled into the encampment, it pounces upon the unwary like a panther in the sweltering jungle night. The gauntlet has been thrown down by this juggernaut. The blueprint for the trilogy has already been fully realized, and will never be bettered. All that will follow from the "classic" Crimson lineup is but a distillation of these first four minutes.

And there are no weak moments on the entire album. Replace Wetton and Bruford with Boz and Wallace, and you still have a masterwork. That statement is in no way meant to besmirch either tandem. It's more a case of what was to follow on the next two albums was (intentionally?) less open to alternative artistic interpretation.

Back to the movie: at 5:51 of the opening scene, this future primitive of flesh and steel skitters deftly down from the treetops, and the chase is on. Torch in hand, we pursue this avatar of our fears. Hunter and hunted are ambiguously cast together in a dervish of light and shadow.