(Originally posted at Attentiondeficitdisorderly Too Flat.)

One of the great pleasures my post-Velvet Goldmine (the film that changed my musical life) explorations into the weirder side of classic rock have afforded me is stumbling across albums that actually meet the cliched criterion of sounding ten years ahead of their time. The Stooges, the MC5, the Velvet Underground, Roxy Music and (my hero) Bowie all had their fair share. A trip to my local used record store (the fantabulous Empire Discs) led me to another one: King Crimson, and their 1974 guitar onslaught Red.

Lead guitarist and mastermind Robert Fripp should be familiar to anyone who's heard his often imitated, never duplicated soaring-siren guitar sound on Bowie's "Heroes"; he's also responsible for one of my top-five all-time favorite guitar solos, the relentless high-end trainwreck in the middle of Eno's "Baby's on Fire." In addition, he's credited with coining the term "dinosaur rock"--to refer to his own band, impressively enough.

But those of you who were already familiar with Fripp's work don't need me to tell you that in an oddly conservative era for solo-driven music, the guy was (to nigh-unforgivably understate things) something else. From start to finish, Red is a rhythmic and sonic assault on the ears, as licks and meters intersect, divide, and pile on top of one another with all the weird geometric mysticism of Ballard's Atrocity Exhibition. Bassist/vocalist John Wetton and drummer Bill Bruford provide a durable, mercurial rhythm section eminently capable of carrying Fripp's riffs (kicking and screaming, it would seem) from one weird-time-signature section of each song to the next. Yet for all the non-grooviness, the album grooves; grooves in an inescapable, evil, "uh oh i know where this is going and it's going to be scary" way. The effect is one that Tool (who toured with the Crimson last year) have harnessed to great effect time and again. (And even Bowie's non-Fripp late 70's work reflects the influence. Compare the structure of Red's instrumental title track to that of Low's opening instrumental, "Speed of Life," for example.)

I've often seen the word "joyless" used by reviewers when they don't like an album. However, to call Red joyless is to pay it a great compliment. This is serious, angry, strangely (almost existentially) frightening music. It means business.

Sean T. Collins's eyes, turned within, only see starless and bible black. Oddly, this still gives him enough light by which to write & edit for cash, and to blog at Attentiondeficitdisorderly Too Flat, where this post originally appeared.)