Back in Bible Black

Tea: Mandarin Green with Honey

Music: Robert Fripp, "Starlight I"

Time: Night.

As you might have noticed, I like mismatching musical references. If I quote a song in the post title, there's no way I'm using that song as the soundtrack for the post. This is sort of an unusual situation, though.

Tonight's title is an AC/DC - King Crimson mashup. Why? Eh. Just felt like it. Did you know, by the way, that Crimson's "Starless" -- whence comes the lyrical line "Starless and Bible black" -- isn't on the Starless and Bible Black album? It's on the subsequent album, Red. And to add to the confusion, "Starless and Bible Black" is also the title of an instrumental on Starless and Bible Black -- and sounds nothing at all like "Starless."

Sometimes I am a bear of very little brain, and the ways of prog confuse me.

All of which, to keep the musical theme going, is just so much vamping until the caffeine from a third steeping of Mandarin Green (It's been a long day.) kicks in, and some sort of groove takes shape.

Fripp recorded "Starlight I" during a performance in St. Louis. I wish I could have been there. Anyone who's ever been in Crimson is on my "to see before I die" list, but Fripp and Adrian Belew co-head it.

The solo piece incorporates the melody from the guitar intro to "Starless," which was performed live well before it went onto vinyl as the closing track of Red. (That line was originally played by violinist David Cross, who quit the band between Starless and Bible Black and Red. He came back as a session player on the latter album, but by then Fripp had made the intro line his own.)

(Yes, I like trivia, if you hadn't figured that out by now.)

Anyway ... I wish I could have heard this live, but part of me wonders if I would have been disappointed. Would it have been enough to hear those opening notes -- and then not hear the rest of "Starless," which is one of my favorite songs of any genre? Could I have appreciated "Starlight I" for its own sake, right out of the gate?

I don't know. I suppose I would have been ambivalent -- multivalent, even.

Yes, I'd love to hear "Starless" live -- ideally with the 1974 lineup of Fripp, John Wetton, Bill Bruford and guests -- all former members -- Cross, Mel Collins and Ian McDonald (part of King Crimson's original lineup and later a cofounder of Foreigner.) But there's no chance of that happening. Still, I have to give props to Fripp for not playing the laurels card, for continuing to move ahead and make new music that actually sounds new.

I wouldn't want my writing or photographic style to be frozen in time. They have grown, through solo work and collaboration, and -- Lord willing, as they say, and the creek don't rise -- they will continue to do so for years to come. I can't, without being a hypocrite, expect my own work to evolve while demanding that my favorite artists stagnate.

Sure, the paychecks are probably better for nostalgia acts. They're safe. But so long as I can keep a roof over my head and food on the table, I'd much rather keep evolving. And someday, if I'm able to drop in a snippet of something I did more than 30 years ago -- and it still resonates with people -- well, how cool would that be?

Cup XXVI: That Which Passes, Comes Back Again ...

Tea: Oolong leaf, Wuyi Ensemble

Music: Selections from an eccentric English guitarist

Time: Midafternoon

I've loaded everything I own connected with Robert Fripp onto my mp3 player. Most of it is his solo stuff and work with King Crimson. But I also have snippets of other collaborations (Brian Eno, Peter Gabriel, Theo Travis) and ensemble work (the League of Gentlemen, the League of Crafty Guitarists, the Robert Fripp String Quintet).

Dangerous obsession, as I often mention the Frippster in Steep Thoughts posts? Nah. More a study in voice.

One man, six strings ... yet so many voices, both solo and in collaboration. And each voice -- the strident, the soothing, the subdued -- fits the material.

That's what I want to do with my writing, both singular and shared -- the poetry, the fiction, the essays, the articles on art and food and music. I am one writer, but I want to have more than one voice -- or perhaps to phrase it more accurately, one voice that remains true to its source, yet modulates and blends with the material at hand.

Okay, enough pontificating for one day. Time for a second steeping, a shuffle of the mp3 player and today's unsettling story:

E.F. Benson, "The Confession of Charles Linkworth"

Cup XXIV: Beauty and the Blend

Tea: Joseph's Dream (chamomile/grapefruit)

Music: Echoes of various selections, by various high school ensembles

Time: Evenight

The beauty of choral music eluded me for a long time, I must confess, even though I have been in several choirs over the years. My enjoyment was in making the music, not so much in hearing it. Even now, I still can't be in an audience hearing the "Hallelujah Chorus" without joining in under my breath.

It wasn't until the now-junior daughter hit high school, and I started going to her concerts, that I discovered how to be what Robert Fripp might call an "attentive audient." I say "might," because, well, he can be a bit Fripptic, as it were.

(Digression: She didn't join the choral department until her sophomore year, but has been in orchestra all three years. The winter concerts are blended, between choral and instrumental groups.)

I've just come from an all-choral concert at her school. The performances were all lovely, but not all perfectly so. The one exception was not for lack of beauty, but for too much of it in one place.

One ensemble -- not my daughter's -- is possessed of an alto with a strong, vibrant, powerful voice. Too strong, too powerful. It dominated the mix, especially in the portions where the sopranos and altos played off one another.

The teacher is good at what she does. I am sure the next time I hear the ensemble, it will be as an ensemble.

Still, it does give one an opportunity to think. There is much value in letting one's light shine -- God knows we seem to be headed toward a "Harrison Bergeron" world as it is -- but in a group setting, there's nothing wrong with minding one's wattage.

Scary Story: I could let the Vonnegut story stand, but the whole prescience thing makes it a little too creepy. Here's something -- well, not lighter, but you get the picture.

Robert W. Chambers, "In the Court of the Dragon"

Cup XIII: The Man With an Aim

Tea: Earl Grey Smokey

Music: Robert Fripp, "Evensong Coda Viljandi"

Time: Evening, tipping into night.

Robert Fripp doesn't sign autographs, sits -- literally -- out of the spotlight when King Crimson reincarnates and plays live and is fond of dropping such aphorisms as: "It is not necessary to be cheerful. It is not necessary to feel cheerful. But look cheerful."

He's also an extraordinarily gifted guitarist, who by all accounts takes his audience as seriously as he asks his audience to take him.

His work with King Crimson can be terrifying and tender, sometimes in the same song ("Starless," anyone?) His Soundscapes, like this one, are often transcendent.

Download it here, but do it quickly. Each free selection lasts only for a limited time.

Then sit and listen, and be still.

And with that, it's time to take my own advice.