If there ever was or had been an âauthor's policyâ in the musical world (except for classical composers), King Crimson would have been part of it: even in those albums considered lesser, the philosophy, style, and poetics of the group (or rather, of Fripp) are consistently reflected. âLizardâ can be called âanomalousâ. It can be called 'lesser', with all the prejudicial implications of the term. But all this undermines its importance within the group's creative journey, which, despite being a journey of great continuity, is never repetitive.
That Lizard is considered a lesser moment, or presumed as such, can already be seen from its chart position (26), far from the fourth place of âIn the Wakeâ, but there are other slightly penalizing factors to consider: the group no longer has Lake's voice, levels that will only be reached by Wetton, and no longer has Giles & Giles: with Gordon Haskell (bassist/singer, already appeared on the previous record) who left two months later, and a new drummer.
Besides the leader, Sinfield remains, whose lyrics are maintained on the line already exploited but not yet exhausted of the dreamlike-epic-fablistic, which allows him evident references to current events (and some winks at hippy culture). Emblematic in this sense are the suite that gives the album its title and 'Cirkus', a track in which mellotron piano, guitar, winds, and voice are equally protagonists. The structure is contrapuntal, starting from the piano introduction and the almost omnipresent Frippian guitar that behind the histrionism hides a customary almost geometric rigor; the instruments (voice included) often exchange melodies, and the result is an almost Babel-like choral atmosphere, which musically transposes âthe great circus that is lifeâ, according to Fripp's intentions, and finds breathing only in the central part of sax and mellotron. The jazz-rock influence is evident throughout the album, but especially in "Indoor games" (where we find on one side sporadic echoes of âCat foodâ, on the other the embryo of âLadies of the roadâ), and in âHappy familyâ, with its syncopated rhythm: two fun and playful pieces (see the final laugh of Indoor..), enjoyable. The minimalist âLady of the dancing waterâ is the perfect junction point between âCadence and Cascadeâ and âIslandâ (in fact, removing the flute the first keyboard chord sequence is almost the same as that of âIslandâ), to which the text, romantic and with continuous references to natural elements, preludes. The union of the horn next to piano, flute, and guitar contributes to the warm atmosphere of this well-conceived little song. The suite âLizardâ is a synthesis of the entire record, an authentic crucible where all the different moments of the constantly evolving Frippian/Crimsonian inspiration merge. Transitions between the various âmovementsâ (four, just like a symphony) are very clean and ingenious: just think of how the Bolero 'jazzically' insinuates itself within the lyrical oboe solo, and how the melody of the solo (which in turn reprises that of the âPrince Rupertâ verse) is developed and rendered almost unrecognizable within the Bolero itself. A note deserves the final minute of âLizardâ (âBig Topâ), a circus fanfare paired with a mellotron theme that provokes dissonances and renders the conclusion unsettling and above all unresolved (it is distorted as it fades away), also reconnecting to the album's concept plot. This finale is the conception of a conclusion as progressively, enigmatically advancing toward the indistinct, probably at the end of life (as âCirkusâ speaks of birth, according to Sinfield's notes).
Lyrical and inventive, âLizardâ is undoubtedly a minor album in terms of historical importance, it does not have the shocking impact of âIn the Courtâ nor does it represent a stylistic-conceptual evolution like âLarks Tongues in Aspicâ, yet it cannot be dismissed among the âlittle representativeâ works: it has unity, cohesion, personality, and some memorable moments. The album is far from the clichĂŠ that views it as incomplete or marginal (a judgment from those who wallow in the worship of Masterpieces and thus fossilize their opinions) and should be placed within the continuous process of inspiration/experimentation by Fripp and company who, while not abandoning the conceptual and musical bases of previous works, create an inspired and non-repetitive album. Furthermore, Fripp himself enlightens us on what the Crimson style is (7/11/1970): âI suppose Crimson is a way of lifeâ.
Robert Fripp conceives the daring idea of creating a mini-rock symphony in several movements, like a real classical symphony.
Lizard is a true musical gem that draws from both the rigid romantic tradition and the freer jazz conception.
Lizard is one of the Kingâs greatest achievements as well as a progressive peak with no precedents or worthy heirs.
Fripp devotes particular care to the mellotron... becoming a sort of generator of emotions, a mechanical altar that evokes delirious visions of deep unease and sinister modern charm.
A fantastic album that may not appeal to everyone, whose tracks wonât be used for advertisements, and that you wonât hum in the shower, but if you are patient, it will give you much more than you could have ever imagined.
Perhaps these werenât even King Crimson.
Under revision, coming soon...
"Lizard is more fascinating, more exciting than I remembered!"
"These âdifficultâ records deserve to stay in the homes of those who occasionally really listen to them, know their genesis, and place them in context."