King Crimson - Lizard (1970)

Dan:

Steve told me recently that Lizard was Robert Fripp's least favorite King Crimson album. Fripp hated it, and so did the band. The lyrics were preposterous and the music a jumble of "jazz musicians" (what could possibly be worse?). Fripp was keen on discipline, so much so that he named a 1981 album Discipline. Lizard lacked discipline, which for Fripp spoiled the group's ambitious third album. 

I can understand his disappointment. Lizard surely has curious lyrics, and the themes are more pretentious than either of the first two albums. The jazz jumble is less of an issue for me, although their playing appears to be stitched together rather than played as an ensemble. But overall, I believe that this flawed album is redeemed by its finest moments, and many voices in cyberspace agree with me.

Side 1 (tracks 1-4) includes a series of songs with odd themes: "Cirkus (Including Entry of the Chameleons)," "Indoor Games," "Happy Family," and "Lady of the Dancing Water." "Cirkus" makes the biggest impact musically. It's an unsettling, threatening description of a circus as a dangerous place - a "pandemonium seesaw," as the lyrics proclaim. Compared to "Cirkus," the next two songs are merely cynical portraits of family and domestic life. Relief comes with the gentle "Lady of the Dancing Water," which resembles the pretty songs from the two preceding albums. 

Side 2 is what I really like about this album. The suite named "Lizard" consists of four parts. The first of these is sung by Yes vocalist Jon Anderson, the perfect voice for this assignment. Again, the lyrics are complicated and arcane, but Anderson makes it all sound like a safe fantasy. Even the Medieval ritual of staking of a lizard by the throat seems okay, given the positive vibe of the music. The second part, "Bolero - The Peacock's Tale," is a delightful instrumental that deserves careful attention. It's where "those jazzmen" create a magical soundscape, despite the stitching. A wind player named Robin Miller makes the biggest impression with his oboe solo, which segues into an English horn solo by the same artist. (This is how I know these sections were stitched together at the editing board.) No matter, the effect is beguiling. Eventually the other horns join in for "Bolero's" triumphant ending.

"The Battle of Glass Tears" consumes the next 11 minutes. It's a bit like "Devil's Triangle" from Poseidon. I don't usually pay much attention to it, given that I'm still marveling at "Bolero." Perhaps that is one of the problems with epic suites - they overwhelm an album's more appealing, shorter songs. 

Steve:  

Here, as with In the Wake of Poseidon, King Crimson was only barely a band at this point, careening uncertainly through different players and several musical approaches in an exploratory phase that would finally solidify with 1973's Larks' Tongues in Aspic. But as was the case with Pink Floyd's exploratory period (1968-1972), this strange uncertainty resulted in some of the band's finest and most unpredictable music. Lizard remains a favorite of mine for many of the same reasons Dan spelled out above, especially the "Bolero" section, which doesn't get much mention (being only one section of a suite), but it should - it's an eye opener. 

As for the band hating the lyrics, I'm thinking mainly of Gordon Haskell, the bassist/vocalist who was recruited for this album (he also sang lead on "Cadence and Cascade" from the prior album). At the end of "Indoor Games" you can hear him break into an extended fit of goofy laughter, which they decided to keep for the final mix for some reason. He was the one about whom I'd heard stories about his issues with the lyrics. Perhaps on the other takes he broke into angry protests instead: "What the bloody hell are these words? Where's Sinfield? I'll give him a right knock on the 'ead, I will!"