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King Crimson: Islands

 A l b u m   D e t a i l s


Label: Virgin Records
Released: 1971.10.23
Time:
 43:51
Category: Pop/Rock
Producer(s): See Artists ...
Rating: *********. (9/10)
Media type: CD
Web address: www.king-crimson.com
Appears with: Robert Fripp, Tony Levin
Purchase date: 2002.07.06
Price in €: 10,99



 S o n g s ,   T r a c k s


[1] Formentera Lady (R.Fripp/P.Sinfield) - 10:18
[2] Sailor's Tale (R.Fripp) - 7:29
[3] The Letters (R.Fripp/P.Sinfield) - 4:29
[4] Ladies of the Road (R.Fripp/P.Sinfield) - 5:34
[5] Prelude: Song of the Gulls (R.Fripp) - 4:14
[6] Islands (R.Fripp/P.Sinfield) - 11:51

 A r t i s t s ,   P e r s o n n e l


ROBERT FRIPP - Guitar, Keyboards, Mellotron, Peter's Pedals Harmonium, Mastering, Remastering, Producer
MEL COLLINS - Flute, Bass Flute, Saxophones, Vocals, Producer
BOZ BURELL - Bass Guitar, Lead Vocals, Choreography, Producer
IAN WALLACE - Percussion, Drums, Vocals, Producer
PETER SINFIELD - Lyricist, Speaking Part, Sounds, Cover Design, Vision Control, Cover Painting, Producer

KEITH TIPPETT - Piano, Keyboards, Producer
MARC CHARIG - Cornet
HARRY MILLER - Bass, String Bass
ROBIN MILLER - Oboe
PAULINA LUCAS - Soprano, Vocals

ANDY HENDRIKSON - Engineer
TONY ARNOLD - Mastering
SIMON HEYWORTH - Remastering
MIKE - Equipment Technician
VICK - Equipment Technician
ROBERT ELLIS - Photography

 C o m m e n t s ,   N o t e s


1971 LP Atlantic 7212
1995 CS EG EGMC-5
1995 CD EG EGCD-5
2000 CD Plan 9/Caroline 1505
2000 CD Caroline 1505
2000 CD Import 1424
2001 CD Virgin 848949



The weakest Crimson studio album from their first era is only a real disappointment in relation to the extraordinarily high quality of the group's earlier efforts. The songs are somewhat uneven and draw from three years of inspiration. "The Letter" is an adaptation of "Drop In," a group composition that was featured in the early set of the original Crimson lineup from 1969, while "Song of the Gulls" goes back to the pre-King Crimson trio of Giles, Giles & Fripp for its source ("Suite No. 1"). There are also a few surprises, such as the Beatles-like harmonies on the raunchy "Ladies of the Road" and the extraordinary interweaving of electric guitar and Mellotron by Robert Fripp on "A Sailor's Tale, which is one of the highlights of the early- to mid-period group's output. Some of the music overstays its welcome — several of the six tracks are extended too far, out of the need to fill up an LP — but the virtuosity of the band picks up most of the slack on the composition side: Collins' saxes and Wallace's drums keep things much more than interesting in tandem with Fripp's guitar and Mellotron, and guest vocalist Paulina Lucas' keening accompaniment carries parts of "Formentera Lady" that might otherwise have dragged. After an unfotunate history of mediocre pressings, Virgin Records released a 24-bit digitally remastered CD that captured the original intact in March of 2000 .

Bruce Eder, All-Music Guide, © 1992 - 2002 AEC One Stop Group, Inc.



1971 experimentierte Gitarrist Robert Fripp mit seinem King Crimson überwiegend im Studio mit neuen Klängen und Aufnahmetechniken, die auf dem vierten Album Islands jedoch lange nicht so aufregend wie erwartet ausfallen. Das Mellotron ist zum Hauptinstrument aufgestiegen, die surrealen Texte von Pete Sinfield sind der Versuch etwas Songstruktur ins improvisatorische Sammelsurium einzubringen. Neben Flötist und Saxofonist Mel Collins gibt es mit Bassist und Sänger Boz und Schlagzeuger Ian Wallace wieder zwei Neue, und zusätzlich eine Reihe klassischer Gastmusiker. Dynamik und Balance sind Stützen der Crimson-Musik, die hier allerdings mit überwiegend langatmigen Instrumentalstücken aufwarten. Da ist man um jede glanzvolle Gitarrenpassage von Fripp dankbar, und um ein Gesangsstück wie "Ladies Of The Road", das an "Walrus" von den Beatles erinnert. Auf "Formentara Lady" bratscht es düster vor sich hin, bei "The Letters" sägen Bass und Saxofon wüst und atonal wie kaputte Geigen. Die Stimmungsbilder "Prélude: Song Of The Gulls" und das Titelstück ziehen sich mit atmosphärischen Impressionen arg in die Länge. Islands lässt jegliche Leichtfüssigkeit und Verspieltheit der vorherigen Alben vermissen, und verlangt Geduld und völlige Hingabe zur Band.

Ingeborg Schober, Amazon.de



King Crimson would like you to think that they're strange, but they're not. What they are is a semi-eclectic British band with a penchant for fantasy and self-indulgence whose banally imagistic lyrics are only matched by the programmatic imagery of their music. They work with myth, mystification and mellotrons to take you, if your imagination is short and your attention span long, on one of those "trips" Life magazine used to claim for the folkbound likes of the Airplane and Dead. They happened to be better at it than almost any of the current competition, laying out their dreamscapes with technical facility of a rare high level, even if their basic concept hasn't altered much through four albums. In the Court of the Crimson King came complete with backslap hype from Pete Townshend, and indeed "20th Century Schizoid Man" was a searingly exciting piece of jazz-infused neuroto-rock, and probably the best thing they've ever recorded. The rest of the album seemed to wander off into alternately spacey and waterlogged stretches of nonspecific sound that was just too pretentious and "experimental" to grab onto. There was no "20th Century Schizoid Man" on In the Wake of Poseidon, although they had at least come to grips with the problem of whether to immerse themselves in the metaphysical absolutes of (musical) space or water by opting for the latter. Despite all the dalliance with myth, as if that were any more than some Marvel Comix type fun (not that it should be any more, but at least Stan Lee has some substance), it must be said that basically it was blah, mundane, a lot of mush. Lizard fared better, especially for some well-timed cops from Charlie Mingus, but for my taste there were still too many holes in the realm for me to wanna doff my beanie to the King and become a full-fledged citizen. Islands is another vague, arty project that almost comes together as a concept album, almost makes it as a fusion of jazz & rock & folk & corn, and ultimately ends up closer to the most tenderly anaesthetizing muzak than any kind of tooth-grating annoyance. Which is too bad, because "20th Century Schizoid Man" was the kind of highstrung sound that verges on sheer pain but ends up pure satisfaction because it pushes, rants and sizzles with such uncompromising persistence, and there are indications in this album that they are still capable of creating that kind of beautiful tension.

The music is, if anything, more programmatic than ever. "Formentera Lady" mystifies with some rather muskily involuted lyrics, and sounds to me, with its mix of bowed bass, flute, piano wash and female soprano singing without words, like the musical description of a camel caravan headin' for the ole watering hole, the perfect definition of Rock Exotique. The lyrics mention Odysseus and Circe at one point, but King Crimson always did have their mythic metaphors rather mixed. "Sailor's Tale" is a mild jazz-derivative arrangement vaguely reminiscent of some Zappa stuff like "King Kong," meant to be charging but somehow falling comfortably into the background. "The Letter" is just an old-fashioned soap opera set to lumbering, churning vats of musical tar, with lyrics worth quoting if not much else: "With quill and silver knife/She carved a poison pen/Wrote to her lover's wife/'Your husband's seed has fed my flesh.'" And then the poor cuckoldette commits suicide. What is all this quasi-Victorian / Shakespearean doggerel, anyway? Are the British trying to get back to their roots? Irritating as I find it, the music is good.

"Ladies of the Road" is the best song on the album–an elegantly punk macho trip ("Stone headed Frisco spacer/Ate all the meat I gave her/Said would I like to taste hers/And even craved the favour./'Like marron-glaced fish bones ...'") featuring a beautifully obscene sax solo. "Prelude: Song of the Gulls," with its pizzicato strings and delicate oboe waftings, sounds like a commercial for a vaginal deodorant. But it's only in the final, title track, all 9:14 of "Islands," that King Crimson get to the best of their music and the heart of their dilemma. It's a pastoral, lyrical, open - ended and open-tuned piece that washes over you like slow tides or an extra-warm bath late in the evening, and just like that bath it has a tendency to put you to sleep in the tenderest, most sanguine way. In fact, I recommend it for that very purpose, with no sarcasm intended. Islands wins the Award of the Month, and perhaps of the Year, for Best Last Record To Put On Before Retiring. But if they continue at this pace and fail to recapture some of their primal drive, I may sleep right through the next one.

LESTER BANGS - RS 103
© Copyright 2002 RollingStone.com



This is the only King crimson album that I've never upgraded from cassette to CD. The reason for that is probably because the only song that I really like from this tape is "Sailor's Tale", and I already have it on CD in the Frame By Frame boxed set. When I think of this album, the words that usually come to mind are pastoral, orchestral, and...to be honest, kind of dull. But listening for this review I realized that only three songs really fit that description, "Formentera Lady", "Song of the Gulls" and the title track. "Sailor's Tale" is a heavy, rippin' instrumental that makes a nice transition between the early Crimson sound and the mid-70s band to come. "The Letters" sounds like it could have been on one of the early albums, but unfortunately it has some fairly cheesy lyrics about infidelity and melodramatic vocals. "Ladies of the Road" is a bluesy number, not bad musically but the groupie-abusing lyrics are so mysoginist that they make Greg Lake's "Taste of My Love" look not so terrible in comparison. Note to prog musicians: do not, under any circumstance, try to write "sex" lyrics. The one bit of this tape that makes me consider getting the album on CD is the gradual transition from "Formentera Lady" into "Sailor's Tale". That part is really well done and unfortunately not included on Frame By Frame. But overall this is probably my least favorite Crimson album.

Bob Eichler



This is a unique King Crimson release. Islands is not the exotic-aggressive prog created by the '72 to '74 version of the band, nor is it the grandiose Mellotron driven prog of the earlier material. And Islands is about as different from 80s and 90s Crimson as it could be. Instead, most of the songs participate in a single mellow mood, with a lot of focus on the stringed instruments, sax, and rhythm. The electric guitar does not seem as prominent, except on the Fripp masterpiece "Sailor's Tale". Most of the songs have that melancholy "sailor music" feel to them. I can't explain what sailor music exactly is, you just need to hear these songs to see what I mean. The sounds conjure up images of waves and birds and gray skies. The "Sailor's Tale" is one of Crimson's classic instrumentals; listen to the atmospheric guitar fluttering and wailing, and the moody rhythms. "The Letters" is a very dark song with some emotionally subtle vocals and ominous string bass. "Formentera Lady" is also very interesting, with a bouncing repetitive beat and pretty melodies. This is very different from the standard King Crimson, but I think most prog fans will like this anyway.

Heather MacKenzie



I had first purchased Islands as a teenager just beginning to get into King Crimson. As I listened to it coming directly on the heels of the Larks' material at the time, I remember being grossly underwhelmed (bored, if you must know the truth) by it. For as far as Crimson album goes, you will find no other as consistently restrained. Even the album's most altogether aggressive piece, the instrumental "A Sailor's Tale," has a breezy agility to it. There is also a feel of mannered detachment running throughout the album, underscored by Boz Burrell's vocals. It's almost as if this album were meant to be more a theory than a reality. I know I've ragged on Peter Sinfield's lyrics enough in my other reviews, but c'mon... "Your husband's seed has fed my flesh"? "Like marron-glaced fishbones/Oh lady hit the road!"? Pete, put the pen down and back slowly, slowly away. Still, overall Islands is an album with many great touches: the bursting growl of Mel Collins' sax in the middle of "The Letters," the John Lennon chorus of "Ladies of the Road," and the cadenza dialogue of bass, piano, and flute that haunt the opening of "Formentera Lady." Though I'm not surprised I shunned it as a teenager driven towards higher-octane models like "Fracture" and "Red," I am glad that I eventually came around to Islands' virtues.

Joe McGlinchey
 

 L y r i c s


FORMENTERA LADY

Houses iced in whitewash guard a pale shore-line
Cornered by the cactus and the pine.
Here I wander where sweet sage and strange herbs grow
Down a sun-baked crumpled stony road.

Dusty wheels leaning rusting in the sun;
Snuff brown walls where Spanish lizards run.
Here I'm shadowed by a dragon fig tree's fan
Ringed by ants and musing over man.

I'll unwind my old strings while the sun shine down
Won't climb any high thing while the sun shine.
Formentera Lady sing your song for me
Formentera Lady sweet lover.

Lamplights glows on old guitars the travellers strum;
Insence children dance to an Indian drum.
Here Odysseus charmed for dark Circe fell,
Still her perfume lingers still her spell.

Time's grey hand won't catch me while the sun shine down
Untie and unlatch me while the stars shine.
Formentera Lady dance your dance for me
Formentera Lady dark lover.


SAILOR'S TALE

(Instrumental)


THE LETTERS

With quill and silver knife
She carved a poison pen
Wrote to her lover's wife:
"Your husband's seed has fed my flesh".

As if a leper's face
That tainted letter graced
The wife with choke-stone throat
Ran to the day with tear-blind eyes.

Impaled on nails of ice
And raked with emerald fire
The wife with soul of snow
With steady hands begins to write:

"I'm still, I need no life
To serve on boys and men
What's mine was yours is dead
I take my leave of mortal flesh"


LADIES OF THE ROAD

A flower lady's daughter
As sweet as holy water
Said: "I'm the school reporter
Please teach me", well I taught her.

Two fingered levi'd sister
Said, "Peace", I stopped I kissed her.
Said, "I'm a male resister",
I smiled and just unzipped her.

High diving chinese trender
Black hair and black suspender
Said, "Please me no surrender
Just love to feel your Fender".

All of you know that the girls of the road
Are like apples you stole in your youth.
All of you know that the girls of the road
Been around but are versed in the truth.

Stone-headed Frisco spacer
Ate all the meat I gave her
Said would I like to taste hers
And even craved the flavour

"Like marron-glaced fish bones
Oh lady hit the road!"

All of you know that the girls of the road
Are like apples you stole in your youth.
All of you know that the girls of the road
Been around but are versed in the truth.


PRELUDE: SONG OF THE GULLS

(Instrumental)


ISLANDS

Earth, stream and tree encircled by sea
Waves sweep the sand from my island.
My sunsets fade.
Field and glade wait only for rain
Grain after grain love erodes my
High weathered walls which fend off the tide
Cradle the wind
to my island.

Gaunt granite climbs where gulls wheel and glide
Mournfully glide o'er my island.
My dawn bride's veil, damp and pale,
Dissolves in the sun.
Love's web is spun - cats prowl, mice run
Wreathe snatch-hand briars where owls know my eyes
Violet skies
Touch my island,
Touch me.

Beneath the wind turned wave
Infinite peace
Islands join hands
'Neathe heaven's sea.

Dark harbour quays like fingers of stone
Hungrily reach from my island.
Clutch sailor's words - pearls and gourds
Are strewn on my shore.
Equal in love, bound in circles.
Earth, stream and tree return to the sea
Waves sweep sand from my island,
from me.

 M P 3   S a m p l e s


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