…shining a little light on what we’re spinning on the office stereo.

We sort of went all Frippy this week. If that’s not a word, it should be. Robert Fripp has such a cool-ass name, even the potentially dumbest sounding permutations and extrapolations (“Frippertronics,” anyone?) sound downright near-nifty. Late last week, an inexperienced staffer posed the question: “What does Robert Fripp sound like?” Easy enough question, right? But Bob has never been one of those “Here, I’ll plug my guitar in and play you a little something” kind of musicians. A crash course in his music(s) revealed an artist very concerned with texture and ensemble impact: not necessarily a maverick soloist (although he is well capable of filling that role). It’s often hard to just hear him play guitar, amidst all that he has going on, how his instrument is processed, etc.

While Kevin Dunn suggested the 1981 League of Gentleman LP, but we’ve yet to track down a copy. If anyone has a spare, please contact us! Instead, this is what we took on…

The Cheerful Insanity of Giles, Giles, and Fripp – Audio portrait of the artist as a young man, and some of the earliest Fripp on record, dating from 1968 or so. Brothers Peter (bass) and Michael (drums) were seeking a singing organ player to fill out their trio. Fripp, seeing this and being a non-singing guitarist, applied anyway. That means something, right? Considering the undiluted heaviousity of the early King Crimson stuff, it was surprising to find this to be a light sort of jazz/pop: primly English, even its quirks are more on the charming side. That said, Fripp’s contributions are very upfront and unmasked by effects: sounds like he’s straight into the amp. His playing is curiously jazzy, fluid and harmonically savvy, yet pieces like “Suite No. 1” has that pointillist, mechanical (in a good, industrial way, not a bad wooden way) intensity that really came to the fore in the ‘80s-era Crimson. Naked baby pictures? Not quite – too fully formed and entertaining, but still formative.

King Crimson, Red – Skipping a few generations of the Crimson, this was the band’s last before an extended hiatus. We weren’t sure if it was the effect of internal friction or external pressure, but the band is winnowed to a power trio (with guests), which gives a rare opportunity to hear Fripp plus rhythm. While there is a fair amount of overdubbing, it’s clear that he is already shrewdly using effects and careful arrangements (a lot of alternating asymmetrical rhythmic patterns) to create an orchestral effect bigger than the sum of its parts. The title track is a prog landmark, and even we non-proggers were somewhat familiar with it. As is often the case with this kind of music, vocals and lyrics (here by bassist John Wetton) seem somewhat external to the thrust of the music. What struck us the most is that, despite the lineup and lineage, it was hard to point out moments of improvisation: it all seemed quite carefully orchestrated. The CD edition we got has a bonus DVD which we have yet to experience, but look forward to on the next lunch break.

Robert Fripp, Exposure – Bob himself refers to this as the one true Robert Fripp solo album. He doesn’t make it easy to understand what exactly happened, but here’s what we surmised: Robert began collaborating with Daryl Hall, with whom he made the cool Sacred Songs LP (which we also listened to and enjoyed quite a bit). Daryl was to be the featured vocalist on this album (although the songs were mostly written by Fripp and poet Joanna Walton), and sang seven vocals. Hall was riding high with Hall and Oates at the time, and his label and management were terrified that he was involved with someone as committedly difficult and non-commercial as Fripp. Consequently, Hall’s involvement in Exposure was curtailed to just two songs, and Sacred Songs was shelved for three years. We conned a promo of the recent 2CD edition of Exposure, which features the original album as released (with five of Hall’s vocals re-cut by Peter Hammill and/or Terry Roche), then a third edition (a 1985 remix which restored some of Hall’s vocals), and an additional four or five cuts that round out the rest of Hall’s stuff and some alternates featuring Roche and Hammill. Frankly, the array of it all is very confusing – but the resulting album is quite fun: a largely manic, thrashing thing born out of Fripp’s experience living in Hell’s Kitchen in pre-cleaned-up Manhattan. Lyrics are detached and desperate in the arty manner of the time, and the rhythm sections are state-of-the-art. Fripp claims Hall to be the best singer he ever worked with, and it’s quickly clear why: the man can handle bizarre melodies and dramatic shrieking as easily as he can croon a classy soul ballad.

Robert Fripp, God Save The Queen / Under Heavy Manners – A fun concept: two albums for the price of one, with the sides labeled “Side A” and “Side 1,” to insure that we put the wrong side on every time. The first half debuts “Frippertronics,” Fripp’s interpretation of Eno’s Discreet Music concept, where Fripp plays his guitar into one Revox tape recorder, which records the sound. The tape then continues on to a second machine, which plays back the sound. The playback is then fed back into the machine, so that it repeats, subtly fading, over and over. It allows Fripp to play tiny fragments into it, and slowly have them build into big undulating tapestries of sound. In the era of digital looping and delay, it sounds rather quaint, but it’s actually quite enjoyable. In concert, he would build these textures, then bypass the machine and solo over them. On record, he never really does that, which is a shame: feels like we’re getting half the picture. But the half we get is very cool. The second side takes those loops and textures and adds funk/disco bass and drums (and a David Byrne vocal on one song). Fun, but maybe not as heart-rending as the first side.

We have more Fripp waiting for us, but this was a fun crash course. We also dug out David Bowie’s Scary Monsters, which in addition to being a fine, fine record, has some absolute primo Fripp on “Fashion.” He’s functioning more in the traditional lead guitar role, but pealing off layers of barely-musical sounds that almost sound like animal bleats or something. It repays close attention.