Exposure 2006 Sleevenotes
Words 92 · RF@80 Series.
On the way to work: RF in Hell’s Kitchen, New York, 1978.
It was a time; it was a place. The time followed the ending of one period and the beginning of another: surfing the wave of the unwritten possible. The place was New York City, centred on Hell’s Kitchen. The ending was of the first stage of life as a professional musician (1967-74). This began as part of Giles, Giles & Fripp, mostly accounted a failure; and ended as part of King Crimson, mostly accounted a success.
In 1977 I had no intention of returning to the music industry, having experienced at close hand the stupidity, vanity, jealousy & greed that accompany success & its attendant income flow; amongst artists, management, record companies & even innocent members of the audience. Longer, wider, deeper experience suggests that I underestimated the dishonesty of artist management, record company cynicism & deceit, the capacity for self-deception among artists, and the sheer dopiness of those who nominally support the work of their favoured artists. This is not the bad news.
Within the sacred circle where music, musician & audience meet, there are remarkable possibilities which, were we to fully experience the degree & extent that we miss the mark, might leave us weeping & knowing bereavement. If this were not itself sufficient tragedy, the meeting of music, musician & audience in our contemporary culture is mediated by commerce. This is the bad news.
Dear Reader, your tears may be already flowing; otherwise, this is a good time to begin. And if your tears are flowing, then perhaps we now add a loud wailing & gnashing of teeth.
Any reasonable person might be forgiven, easily, simply & readily, for believing this to be an exaggeration; a comment from one scarred by close grappling with the actuality of professional life, a pitiful character returning from one grinding tour too many. Although I am pitiful, and have returned from several grinding tours too many, regrettably I understate the case.
When the Muse descends, we know directly (one aspect of) the Creative impulse & its inexpressible benevolence. This is the life-giving force that maintains all audients & performers who continue, despite all evidence to the contrary, to return to the place where Music opens itself to us. When we find how many participants in our musical enterprise, even good people with the best of intentions, act to close the door on the Benevolence that seeks to walk in and embrace us, in that moment we know pain, grief, loss. When good people further declare their consumer rights in the event, then we know despair.
Dear Reader, please forgive this frank presentation of my feelings: for an Englishman (but my Mother was Welsh) this is close to going naked in the world.
Despite all, the potential remains. Whenever a musician picks up their instrument, finds a pair of open ears & the Muse is in attendance, life begins again. In this moment, Time has no dominion & the music industry sits outside (albeit most likely with the ticket receipts). This is the good news.
So, what happened in 1977 that returned me to the life of working player? At the beginning of July, David Bowie & Brian Eno telephoned me from Berlin and asked if I could play some hairy rock guitar on a record David was making with Brian. From this, everything changed: a beginning again, again.
Exposure was an autobiography of sorts, a statement of interests & concerns. My life changed direction in July 1974 following a terrifying vision of the future. Now, three decades later, I find that I underestimated the extent of radical change that is presently underway. In 1974 my response was terror. In 2006, I trust the unfolding process.
May we know, and trust, the inexpressible Benevolence of the Creative Impulse.
Robert Fripp
January 13th. 2006
DGM HQ, Broad Chalke, England.
Sometimes God smiles.
👏👏🧡