Robert Fripp: An Appreciation

popmatters.com March 22, 2012

With A Scarcity of Miracles, a master guitarist keeps innovating.

A guitarist, said Paul McCartney, has to have riffs. Think back to almost any song
by any early rock band, with its distribution of verses and refrains on the A-B-AB model or some other formula. Somewhere past the halfway point, the singer is
silent for 15 or 20 seconds, leaving musical space for the lead guitar to fill. Thats
when the guitarist reaches into his bag of riffs.
We all know what a riff isa short themelet, sometimes similar, sometimes not,
to the melodic line pursued by the singer. When the riff is good, you might even
prefer it to the sung melody. The guitar solo from George Harrisons My Sweet
Lord comes to mind. If the riff is weak, youre just eager for it to end so that the
good stuff can resumecan anyone remember the guitar solo from Bon Jovis
You Give Love a Bad Name? Bands over the years have experimented with
different musical structures like rondos, suites, and jazz-fusion jam sessions, in
addition to the continuing profusion of songs in the traditional verse-and-refrain
format. But the role played by the lead guitar seems to never change. Somewhere
in the songs architecture, the other performers back off, leaving a bare canvas of
drums and bass on which the guitarist paints his picture, with riffs.
Robert Fripp, King Crimsons enigmatic guitarist, does not followhas never
followedthat formula. Crimsons latest release, A Scarcity of Miracles, typifies
his atypicality. His guitar doesnt wait for a cue from the other players, but flits
in and out randomly at its own whim. Fripp coaxes unworldly sounds from his
guitar, menacing us from the ether, descending on the main musical proceedings
with hoarse locutions, sometimes with screechy, grating licks or weak, anemic
wails, always the acme of cool. The rest of the band sounds clear and close by,
but Fripps guitar is always muffled, distant. Fripp himself produced the album,
so you know he wanted it that way. Its sounds arrive from afar in short phrases,
in ghostly, disembodied voices, or in single, stray notes, but seldom in anything
as tuneful and ordinary as a riff. An ear conditioned by mainstream pop might be
confused by Scarcity and by Fripps role in it; theres nothing to hum here. But

ears that Fripp has taught over his four-plus decades in music expect more than
riffs from him, and those ears will not be disappointed.
Nothing else in Fripps oeuvre sounds quite like what he gives us in Scarcity,
though a discerning listener might note similarities to his 1975 collaboration
with Brian Eno, Evening Star. In his work with Eno, Fripp heralded the arrival
of a new musical genre that we know today as ambient musica species of sound
usually found late at night on commercial-free radio stations. But ambient music
is not the only genre Fripp had a hand in inventing. His 1969 album with King
Crimson, In the Court of the Crimson King, famously inaugurated the era of
progressive rock, a vein mined over the ensuing years by bands like Yes, Genesis,
Procol Harum, and Emerson, Lake & Palmer.
Prog rock guitarists are a select group known for virtuoso musicianship. Fripp is
the founding father of that select company. When one thinks of sheer physicality
or melodic soulfulness, other names come more readily to mindnames like
Howe, Holdsworth, or Trower. Fripp seems modest by comparison, especially
onstagealways sitting, never standing, situated far from center-stage,
expressionless, almost catatonic. But dont let the lack of showmanship fool you;
there is no one better. His technical mastery and manual agility are second to
none. His fingers fly across the frets with astonishing rapidity and uncanny
accuracy.
But what distinguishes Fripp more than anything is the role played by his guitar
in the music itself. For all their excellence as guitarists, the Howes and Trowers
of the prog firmament always wait their turn, like good little guitarists,
decorating the song with their quota of riffs at the moments reserved for them.
They are hired hands, playing a supporting role in a production where the vocal
line is always the essential part. Fripp, by contrast, is the bossthe designer and
master-builder of the musical structures in which his guitar is the featured voice.
He can riff with the best of them; some would call him the king of riffs. But a riff
from Fripp is not just a brilliant ornament in someone elses song. Rather, it is
the very backbone of the song, the keel of the musical ship.

That ships name is King Crimson, and Fripp has always been its captain. Fripps
dominance of Crimson had its origins in the bands prehistory, with an unjustly
forgotten album called The Cheerful Insanity of Giles, Giles & Fripp. Beneath
that albums veneer of Oscar Wilde humor, Fripps uppity guitar aggressively
asserted itself, providing most of the musical interest. After one of the Giles
brothers left, three other players joined, and the new ensemble, now dubbed
King Crimson, went on to make history with In the Court of the Crimson King.
Others who have served aboard the good ship Crimson have been chagrined by
Fripps captaincy. Bandmates jumped ship at every port of call; each of the
bands first four albums featured a different lineup, except for Fripp. Some
refugees from the early King Crimson attributed the bands horrible rate of
turnover, perhaps too charitably, to the dark mood of the music and to artistic
concerns. The facts, however, suggest that people just couldnt stand working
with Fripp. In the let-it-all-hang-out world of rock, he was too interested, as he
put it, in quality control.
Interviews given by Fripp suggest a taciturn personality, but not a belligerent or
intimidating one. Bill Bruford, the drummer from two of Crimsons later
incarnations, portrays Fripp using passive-aggressive methods to maintain his
grip:

Two or three guys would noodle on something, individuals contributed a passage

here, a song there, a refrain here, but nothing worked. Our Fearless Leader, guitar
in hand, stared at his favored spot on the floor, slightly to his right and a few feet in
front of him, for minutes on end. The Active Onesmyself, Belew, Levin, Trey
Gunnran up ideas, toyed with this, rejected that. The stare didnt waver.

Eventually, exasperation got the better of me, and I heard myself voice my
unsolicited opinion on the proceedings with a clarity that surprised me. This
provoked reaction. The stare wavered; its owner put down his instrument and
wordlessly left the room. The following day he could be persuaded to return only
with profuse apologies.
popmatters.com March 22, 2012