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Rating: A precious document. Fragmented notes, experiments, songs built on ideas kept in the archive for years.
This is roughly how the solo album sounds, the first, of one of the greatest progressive artists of all time and a seminal figure in the evolution of guitar techniques.
At first glance, everything seems overflowing, with as many as 18 tracks, traversing a variety of often contrasting moods, which dress the proverbial ineffability of the artist. This strikes and disorients because the opening, entrusted to "Breathless", is built on the rhythms and riffs of "Red", mystifying the idea of what will face the listener in the subsequent tracks; bewildering.
"Chicago" and "Disengage" are two tracks sung by Peter Hammill, who here uses all the tonal harshness at his disposal, with Fripp engaged in phrasing, stuttering, dissonances, with multiple overdubs aiming to ensure the listener's disorientation.
The title track is pure madness, a voice spelling out the letters composing the word "exposure" robotically and throughout the track, while a woman screams incessantly, in contrast with the funky and monotonous riff. Trying to give an explanation of such a sound document, Sir Robert's position regarding the media, fame, becomes very clear, and it is a woman who screams against the entangling, monotonous trap of conformity.
The album continues through monologues punctuated by a granite guitar until reaching the frippian locus amenus, the gorgeous ballad sung by Peter Gabriel, the onomatopoeic "Here Comes The Flood" and the tongue-twister "I May Not Have Had Enough Of Me But I've Had Enough Of You", which is less successful. Slowdown for another excellent piece, dreamy singing, and a softly lit atmosphere, framed by a beautiful text, it is "Mary".
The assortment of tracks showcases its variety with the rockabilly of "North Star", the acidic rock and distressing "NY3" apologizing at the work's final part. After two spoken tracks, it concludes with a quartet of small masterpieces, the reverberations of "Urban Landscape", the guitar-violin of "Water Music" parts one and two, ambient music based on frippertronics, placid and jovial contrasted by a voice talking about the catastrophic effects of floods. The last track is a fiery punk 'n' roll with 50s piano, sung by an Elvis on acid. Here disappears the famous shyness of the guitarist.
This work follows the two albums in collaboration with Brian Eno, after the second disbandment of King Crimson. It's incredible to note how many elements are present that will constitute the group's third phase, that of the stellar quartet Belew-Bruford-Levin-Fripp, the general rehearsal for the subsequent physical act of a genius' thought.
A tasty preview and an hour of great music.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
01 Preface (01:14)
'''Brian Eno:''' Uh... Can I play you... um... some of the new things I've been doing, which I think could be commercial?
'''Peter Gabriel:''' Actually, I won't start like that, sorry. And again: three, four...
02 You Burn Me Up I'm a Cigarette (02:22)
You burn me up I'm a cigarette
You hold my hand I begin to sweat
You make me nervous
Ooh I'm nervous
It must be real bad karma
For this to be my dharma
With you
You burn me up I'm a cigarette
Life with you is a loser's bet
You make me crazy
Ooh I'm going crazy
Your therapeutic antics
Well they really make me frantic
With you
Strategic interaction irreducible fraction
Terminal inaction and a bitter hostile faction
I'm getting anxious
I'm franxious
Transactional diseases are the only thing that pleases
We
You burn me up I'm a cigarette
Demanding my attention which you're not gonna get
What did the sage mean?
What had the sage seen?
Musical elation is my only consolation
Oh yeah
You burn me up I'm about to ignite
When you tell me you love me I give up this fight
I'm feeling put down my feelings shut down
I want rejuvenation from male emancipation
[note: some releases omit printing this verse]
Strategic interaction terminal inaction
A bitter hostile faction irreducible fraction
Transactional diseases are the only thing that pleases
We
04 Disengage (02:52)
Mrs Marion is strict with her servant
Behind locked doors over coffee they speak
They speak to my sister and my parents
And I'm trying hard not to shriek
Disengage
Disengage
Disengage
Disengage, disengage
She decodes my secrets and my fragments
I'd create any betrayal for their sake
She asks me to wait in the hallway
Where I'm doing my best not to, not to, not to shake
Disengage, disengage
Disengage
Disengage
Disengage
Muttering words to her
Muttering words to her
Muttering words to her for convenience
I start to head for the door
Mrs Marion screams over my shoulder
Walking out's just another metaphor
Disengage
07 NY3 (02:16)
Father: Your house
Daughter: My house
Father: Your house
Daughter: My house
Father: Your house
Daughter: My house
Father: Your house
Daughter: My house
Well get out, there's the door
Well get out, there's the door
Well get out, there's the door
Well get out, there's the door
Father: It is not your house
It is not your house
It is not your house
It is not your house
It is not your house
Mother: And you're a cocaine sniffer
And you're a cocaine sniffer
And you're a cocaine sniffer
And you're a cocaine sniffer
Don't call me a slut
Father: No
Mother: You're carrying a baby
You don't know whether it's a nigger, a spic or a white baby
Don't call me a slut
Father: No
Mother: You're carrying a baby
You don't know whether it's a nigger, a spic or a white baby
You've got to go for an abortion, baby
I never had to
Father: No way, never
Mother: You've got to go for an abortion, baby
I never had to
Father: No way, never
Mother: You're carrying a baby
You don't know whether it's a nigger, a spic or a white baby
You've got to go for an abortion, baby
I never had to
Father: No way, never
Your house
Daughter: My house
Father: Your house
Daughter: My house
Father: Your house
Your house
Daughter: My house
Father: Your house
Daughter: My house
Father: Your house
Daughter: My house
Well get out, there's the door
09 Exposure (04:25)
J.G. Bennett: It is impossible to achieve the aim without suffering. It is impossible to achieve the aim without suffering.
X-P-O-S-U-R-E
X-P-O-S-U-R-E
Exposure
X-P-O-S-U-R-E
Exposure
X-P-O-S-U-R-E
Exposure
X-P-O-S-U-R-E
J.G. Bennett: It is impossible to achieve the aim without suffering. It is impossible to achieve the aim without suffering.
X-P-O-S-U-R-E
Exposure
X-P-O-S-U-R-E
etc.
15 Here Comes the Flood (03:52)
When the night shows the signals grow on radios
All the strange things they come and go as early warnings
Stranded starfish have no place to hide
Still waiting for the swollen easter tide
There's no point in direction
We cannot even choose a side
Crowd
Lord here comes the flood
We'll say goodbye to flesh and blood
If again the seas are silent in any still alive
It'll be those who gave their island to survive
Drink up dreamers you're running dry
I took the old track
The hollow shoulder, across the waters
On the tall cliffs
They were getting older; sons and daughters
The jaded underworld was riding high
Waves of steel hurled metal at the sky
And as the nails sunk in the cloud
The rain was warm and soaked the crowd
When the flood calls
You have no home, you have no walls
In the thunder crash
You're a thousand minds, within a flash
Don't be afraid to cry at what you see
The actors gone, there's only you and me
And if we break before the dawn
They'll use up what we used to be
17 Postscript (00:38)
Brian Eno: So the whole story is completely untrue. A big hoax. Ha, ha, ha!
A big hoax. Ha, ha, ha!
A big hoax. Ha, ha, ha!
A big hoax. Ha, ha, ha!
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