Calling BEAT a “creative reinterpretation” of 80s-era King Crimson is arguably misleading.
If you listen closely to this quartet, you’d swear it was the real, original thing.
With this 19-track Live album, you’re going to have to constantly remind yourself, “No, Bill Bruford is not manning the drum kit,” and “NO, Robert Fripp is not sitting stoically cross-legged plucking out what appear to be the hardest guitar riffs ever devised dressed like he’s enroute to officiate a wedding…”
Despite this, this is an album of music riddled with excitement, edginess, and unpredictability. It’s structured yet also pliable. Clean yet replete with spots that can get muddy. There IS room for modification and tweaks if so needed.
Now I’ve seen BEAT — Adrian Belew, Tony Levin, Steve Vai, and Danny Carey — in the flesh. I’m still spellbound at how well the quartet replicated Crimson’s album trio of Discipline, Beat, and Three Of A Perfect Pair. It remains a revelatory experience. It doesn’t matter if I’ve heard these albums a combined 813 times over the past 20 years; there’s always some nugget to be plucked out that I’ve missed before. It’s a dubious task trying to restructure something original but somehow, BEAT has managed to keep these tracks fresh and vigorous. Even the Three of a Perfect Pair tunes — the weakest out of the trio of albums — sound as if they’ve been given a rejuvenating blood transfusion (i.e. Keep an ear out for that talkbox on “Larks’ Tongues in Aspic Part III”).
From the second the group blasts off with harsh cop whistle tweets on “Neurotica” (so loud they scared my dog), to the manic sharp-edge blade chopping melodies of “Thela Hun Ginjeet,” you’ll be hooked. The only thing left to wonder is how did it never come to pass that Frank Zappa engaged with Crimson for a series of recordings? In a way, though, you have Zappa in the Los Angeles room given the presence of his band alums Belew and Vai — Belew with his “City of Tiny Lites” vocal wailings and Vai with his layered, soundscape guitar playing.
“Neal and Jack and Me” is an upbeat romp that quickly turns dark in a beautiful way, while “Heartbeat” remains as evocative as ever. Belew’s voice is top notch — no scratches in the vocal paint here. It’s almost as if he’s trying to leap out of himself — he’s so excited this music is resonating with so many. Keeping in line with Crimson’s jazzier, more improvisational aesthetic, every member gets their time to shine. “Industry” and a 14-minute version of “The Sheltering Sky” allow Vai to really take off and make magic with nothing but strings and a guitar neck. You can sense how hard he’s concentrating on his notes so as to do Fripp justice, even if he isn’t in the room. Carey has a playful time on “Waiting Man,” emphasizing how there would be no Blue Man Group without songs like this. Levin, meanwhile, brings in the funk on “Sartori in Tangier,” “Sleepless,” and “Elephant Talk.”
The double guitar layering of “Frame By Frame” is always music to my ears. I never cease to smile when Belew shouts out an elongated “Analysis” with full relish. “Indiscipline” is manic but the more you’ll listen to it, the more you’ll like it and think it’s good. The only thing that makes “Red” anomalous here is that it’s not part of the album trio tracks. Otherwise, it’s fantastic.
It’s likely asking too much for BEAT to expand its repertoire and probe deeper into the total Crimson catalog. But as this album emphasizes, along with musical triumph comes musical opportunity. We know these guys are perfectionists; now we can only hope they become more schizoid going forward!
~ Ira Kantor
