King Crimson-Red (1974)

After five years of history of King Crimson, with a lot of instability and a lot of stress, the band published the album Red, which closed its first journey, which was not a stage. As the back cover of the album already indicated, with the number seven in red, this was going to be the end (fortunately, it was only a seven-year hiatus) for the band.
Robert Fripp said just before the album was released the following: "King Crimson ceased to exist:" ... for three reasons. The first is that it represents a change in the world (from dinosaur civilization to small, independent, mobile, and intelligent units). Second, while there was a time when I considered joining Crimson to be the best liberal education a young man could receive, I now know that it is not. And third, the energies involved in the lifestyle of the band and the music are no longer of value to the way I live. "
Red was purposely composed with that concept of closure, covering a little of each of the previous epochs; with the imagination of ITCOTCK, the jazzy touches of the Lizard, the preciousness of Island, the complexity of Lark's Tongues in Apic or the improvisation of live performances of Starless and bible black. Here the lineup is reduced to a trio, (Fripp, Wetton and Bruford) but with fundamental collaborations, especially those of the saxes of ex-members Collins and McDonald.
The album is in general perhaps the most complete of the band
but it is without a doubt the theme Starless takes center stage in a masterpiece and unique, its perfection is such that not even the best prose could show the essence of its depth ... of its beauty. The mellotron, as it usually happens in the great themes of King Crimson, takes over the beginning of the theme, provides it with the atmosphere, the color, the sensitivity. With that atmosphere: melancholic, which can be even disturbing, Fripp's guitar enters. Here there are no distortions, it sounds warmer than ever. It gives the feeling that, if the music could be played, that guitar start would ask to be hugged. Meanwhile, Bruford contributes a battery that squanders that sensitivity inherited from his jazz training. Wetton enters singing a melody and a letter that explains that melancholy that already suggested the beginning. The saxophone delves into the warmth of the melody, while still denoting sadness with the cello underneath, providing heartbreaking depth. The chorus stops. The guitar solo appears which, repetitively, only varies chromatically on a genius bass bass. Percussion enters progressively, bringing an impressive rhythmic richness to the theme. Thus, under this same scheme, the guitar is gathering strength, and with it bass and drums. A change of rhythm arrives in which the guitar gradually rises in intensity and tone until it reaches the true climax, in which the saxophone ... explodes. A masterful solo, of whose level there are few in the history of rock, progresses to a point where the other sax, the alto, enters, and together with the exquisite set of dishes from Bruford's drums, they create a beautiful melody that, literally, it bursts with the notes of the closing of the chorus by means of the guitar and the soprano saxophone (adrenaline and endorphins flood my body). Another brutal rhythmic accompaniment leads to a more brutal runaway guitar, which connects again with the sax. This takes up the main melody, the bass takes center stage making a counterpoint while the melotron returns to welcome the ending as it deserves, with an apotheosis of sensitivity, until the notes fade. Tears outside. Bravo ... the King has spoken.