Oh damn, still in this dream.

I never once thought I'd hear this played live:





And certainly not quite this well done. It seems that Master Fripp (for he is a master) finally has the right chamber orchestra to perform the collective compositions he led as prime mover in King Crimson. I'd love to hear the Ravel-influenced opening to "Exiles" done live. I may get a chance on Thursday as I'm due to see King Crimson at the Albert Hall.

The battery of drums in the 13/8 second movement slightly de-emphasises the original "solo leading instrument" aspect of the original, but is effective nonetheless. All-in-all it is a definitive performance; captured on camera as well as audio. Small quibbles: Fripp's guitar is just a little proud of the track at the beginning; and slightly lacking the beautiful reverb of the original. Fripp is running a Kemper for his live rig, if my sources are correct, so a small adjustment shouldn't be too difficult. But by the gods, this iteration of Crimson is really good. Really really good. And this version of Crimson, it appears, can do the compositions justice in a way never before achieved. At the crossover point where Hendrix meets Sibelius and Bartok there is a bespectacled chap, sitting on a bar stool, with a Les Paul; and his is one of a handful of the greatest musical imaginations ever to have picked up a guitar. 

Yesterday I was asked (at the last minute) to the 'Private Eye' supper in the Coach and Horses. I was also asked backstage at Bon Jovi's O2 gig to help sell an extremely rare and vintage guitar to Richie Sambora (whom I've never met).

So obviously I went home to spend the evening with Madame.

Given that I no longer dare to eat the peach, as it were, I feel I should be more discontented with my lot than I am.

As the mixes have been getting to a more complete stage (awful construction that - complete shouldn't take a modifier) I've been thinking about the music I'm listening to.
Some of the songs are just beautiful fragments of melody and harmony wrapped about an extraordinarily articulate artist baring his soul. Some are the songwriting equivalent of Haiku. Some are Sonnets, and Some... 
The arrangements are sparse, and in general acoustic. Even in Jacques Brel or Scott Walker I've never heard so melancholy a sound as Dave's Accordian. (As an aside, when a drummer plays keyboards and accordian, you just know this ain't an ordinary band.)
I'm going to ask Pod (Karl) to show me around the mandolin - next on my buying list, or if not next, pretty high up the order.
Some of these are the slowest songs I've ever heard.
It is a melancholy (that word again) album that's strangely uplifting.
Much of it is lyrically quixotic: balancing squalor and humanity; lust, love, and morality.
Steve's doing a damn fine job on these mixes.
There are no explosions, no distortion pedals, no special effects (some nice reverbs). It was just recorded with good mics and pre-amps in a good space with a good vibe (in general - though there was some production friction earlier, but when isn't there?)

This music bleeds humanity, my dears, and I am smit.