A towering love story set in the face of the division of Berlin during the Cold War, Heroes is one of David Bowie's greatest achievements – an epic that will long outlive him (and has already). It wouldn't be half of what it is, though, without Robert Fripp.

It was Fripp that contributed the song's defining instrumental element, a whirring guitar part that adds a touch of the weird and surreal as it coils around Bowie's heroic vocal performance.

When Bowie called up Fripp again for some more studio work a few years later, though, he had something very different in mind.

The assignment was Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps), the swaggering rocker that would become one of the centerpieces of Bowie's 1980 album of the same name.

Fripp – who had initially hesitated when asked to contribute to Heroes – was more gung ho when asked to play on Scary Monsters.

“I was a working player and ready to go,” he told Guitar World in a recent interview. “I was a focused rock player, and I recorded for two nights, beginning at midnight, at Trident Studio at St. Anne’s Court in London.

“I only had chord sheets, and the advantage of that is that you don’t have to sit down with a manuscript book and listen through the songs a few times until you have the map. You have the map in broad outlines and you just go.”

Fripp's newfound role as a “focused rock player” very much came in handy at the sessions.

“I remember I asked David, ‘Any suggestions?’, because there’s any number of ways you can go,” he told GW. “He said, ‘Think Ritchie Blackmore.’ I didn’t expect that, but I understood what he meant.

“Did I sound like Ritchie Blackmore? No. But I’d seen Ritchie in the Outlaws in Poole when I was 17, and his playing was phenomenal. He had all the moves. So I’d seen Ritchie, I’d heard Ritchie, and I wasn’t going to play like Ritchie would, but I knew what David meant.”

Asked by Guitar World how the great artist should be remembered, the King Crimson mastermind said, “Simply as we knew him. Some people knew him personally, other people knew him through his work, and still other people will remember David as the person who said to them very directly, ‘You have permission to be who you are.’”

For more from Fripp, plus interviews with some of Bowie’s other key guitarists, pick up issue 607 of Guitar World from Magazines Direct.

Few guitarists have shaped progressive and avant-garde music as profoundly as Robert Fripp. With King Crimson, Brian Eno, David Bowie and others, Fripp perpetually reinvented the six-stringed wheel with ease.

He usually did so with a Gibson – or something that looked like a Gibson – in hand. This is why if the building were burning down, Fripp would grab his beloved ’59 Les Paul Custom.

“It’s the one that’s worth the most,” he says with a laugh. “That’s for sure!”

“I’m not a collector,” he adds. “[The guitar you buy] should be the one that’s right for the music you’re playing. So I guess the criteria is, ‘Why might you choose this guitar?’ And all my good instruments have been Gibsons or facsimiles. It’s the right fit. I put it up to my body, and it’s the right fit for my left hand and my right hand.”

With all that in mind, we asked Fripp to select and discuss the three guitars that have “fit” him the best over the past six or so decades.

1962 Gibson ES-345

I bought it in the middle of 1963 when I was 17. Up until then, my first guitar was an appalling instrument called an Egmond Frères that my mother bought me for Christmas in 1957. I still have it. It was appalling. My second guitar was a Rosetti, and that was appalling. My third guitar was a Höfner – a President, I think – which was really a semi-pro instrument.

In England at the time, it was very difficult to get American instruments, and you needed a lot of money. But come the middle of 1963, I needed to move on to a proper instrument and bought a 1962 model. The ES-345 was made the year before, I believe, and I bought it from Eddie Moors Music Shop in Boscombe near Bournemouth.

It was £350. I still have the original case and strap. But I needed to buy it on hire-purchase [lay-away], so I went to my father. Because I was 17, you needed a mature person to sign off on the guarantee for payment. My father refused to sign an authority until I had a £100 deposit. I was earning £5 a week, so £5 a week to get to £100 is a bit of a struggle.

1959 Gibson Les Paul Custom

On to the 1959 Les Paul Custom! I bought it in November 1968, when Giles, Giles and Fripp were just about to become King Crimson. King Crimson were lent £7,000 by a businessman called Angus Hunking. He took an interest in us, and I believe £2,000 came in cash in a briefcase.

So I went shopping in the West End of London with Michael Giles. We went to a music shop on Shaftesbury Avenue; in the window was this Les Paul for £400. I’m not sure of the exact equivalent of what that might be in today’s cash, but I think it would probably be five-to-seven-and-a-half thousand. I went online today and I found a pristine model the same as mine, advertised at $139,000! And that was an instrument without provenance.

But I went into the shop with Michael Giles with the cash, and I asked for a cash discount. The shop assistant, a young man I disliked because of his attitude, said, “I could phone up Eric Clapton and he’d come and buy it.” And I thought, “Then why haven’t you phoned him already?” So this young man was lying to me, and I didn’t like him. Anyway, I bought the instrument for £380.

This was my main instrument from then onwards. I used it with Crimson and my other work up until 1980. It’s on all the Crimson albums – In the Court, Poseidon, Lizard, Islands, Larks’ Tongues, Starless and Bible Black and Red, and moving on with David Bowie on Scary Monsters and all the Eno albums.

But in early ’78 in New York I bought a second ’59 Les Paul, which I then left in New York, where I was living at the time. I would use it at the New York sessions. Nevertheless, that first 1959 Les Paul was my staple.

2004 Fernandes custom goldtop

My third instrument is the Fernandes, though there are honorable mentions in between. I began using Fernandes, I think, in 1995, when we were in Japan. Fernandes expressed interest in making instruments for Adrian Belew and me.

They made Adrian a couple of red ones, and he cobbled together the best of each, and I bought it from him, probably about 20 years ago. I still play it from time to time. But around 2004, they made me the first goldtop. My contact there was Ken Suiguira, and that was a superb instrument. They made me a second replica goldtop in 2016 as a spare, which is virtually identical to the original from 2004.

But the original 2004 goldtop became my main instrument with King Crimson from 2014 through 2021, and it’s still my main practicing instrument. I’m no longer a touring musician, but I continue to practice as a way of earthing and centering myself, kind of like guitar yoga. [Laughs]

• This article first appeared in Guitar World. Subscribe and save.

By the summer of 1974, King Crimson had reached critical mass. Albums like In the Court of the Crimson King (1969), Larks’ Tongues in Aspic (1973), and Starless and Bible Black (early 1974) had seen the venerable British band reach the apex of proto-metal-meets-fusion-meets-prog.

But tensions within Crimson’s ranks were escalating, leading to drummer Bill Bruford, vocalist and bassist John Wetton, and guitarist and mastermind Robert Fripp entering the sessions for the heavier-than-heavy album, late 1974’s Red, on the precipice of spontaneous combustion.

Lineup shifts, specifically the expulsion of violinist David Cross, had left Fripp feeling uneasy. This, along with the increasing sensation of needing to break away, manifested in Red’s ultra-heavy, yet still intellectually complex, atmosphere.

“The music is in the body,” Fripp tells Guitar World. “From there we might say, ‘Well, look, what’s going on here? How is the music speaking to us?’ And then we engage the head and express it formally, analyze it and so on. But the strength of Red is that the power is in the music.”

Songs like the hyper-urgent Red, the catchy yet chaotic One More Red Nightmare, and the sprawlingly beautiful Starless illustrate what Fripp refers to as his entry into the liminal zone.

“It was very, very open,” Fripp says. “But it’s a very difficult and uncomfortable place to be. If someone comes in with a pretty well-written piece of music and says, ‘Let’s play this,’ then it's relatively safe and straightforward. But the problem is, when you know what you’re doing, if you know where you’re going, you might get there, and that’s not an interesting place to be. Where you wish to arrive is where you could never possibly know you might be going. But that is a very difficult tension to hold together.”

Given the tension and mental gymnastics that came with it, along with the tepid response Red garnered, which was followed by Crimson’s collapse, one wonders if Fripp regrets the whole thing outright. But time has been kind to Red.

Many think of it as an unintentional yet intentional proto-metal masterpiece. True, some people hate it, but putting art out into the public is to be subject to criticism and hatred. With that, it’s up to the artist to determine how to filter that and how it affects their art.

“I would’ve stayed as an estate agent in Wimborne, Dorset, if I had known the grief that was coming my way,” Fripp says with a laugh. “I would have stayed in real estate!” Jokes aside, most would probably agree that Fripp did alright for himself as far as music – and Red – goes.

“That’s a very generous estimation,” he says. “But my approach has been, if you read your press, you read all of it. And if you read all my press, there have been – by and large – as many people who hated it as who enjoyed it.”

What prompted King Crimson’s shift into Red’s heavier territory?

We usually suggest or assume the music is determined by the so-called right of the writers or players. Another way of looking at this is that music actually seeks to become what it is by acting on the players. In other words, let’s ask the music what it required of those young players.

One of the difficulties of working with [Crimson lyricist] Peter Sinfield in 1971 was that Peter's idea for the future of King Crimson music was Miles Davis-esque, gentle Mediterranean-influenced improv. Peter had a holiday, I think, on [Spanish island] Formentera, and came back very vibed up about a gentle, Miles-leaning atmosphere.

Whereas at that time, my personal voice was speaking more [Crimson's sprawling and ambitious 1973 songs] Larks – Larks Part One and Larks Part Two. So the beginning of metal in Robert’s voice, if you like, began around 1971. I have this from my own notes. Although if you go back to 21st Century Schizoid Man, that was about as metal as it gets.

In that way, you could say Crimson was as proto-metal as anyone.

I saw a recent video on YouTube on the 10 precursors to heavy metal, and Schizoid Man wasn’t among them. That’s absurd. I mean, Ozzy, Master Osbourne, not only recorded Schizoid Man on a solo album, but he was always generous enough to acknowledge Crimson.

The metallic – the powerful, metallic element – has always been there in Crimson. For me, it became increasingly articulated in the simple question: What would Jimi Hendrix have sounded like playing a Béla Bartók string quartet? In other words, the sheer power and spirit of the American blues‑rock tradition speaking through Hendrix’s Foxy Lady or Purple Haze.

Suppose instead there was a more European vocabulary, for example – Bartók and early Igor Stravinsky were very influential on me. Also, may I say Claude Debussy must be included in that with whole tone – the Debussy vocabulary was part of my epiphany as a young player, listening to all these different forms of music as if it were one musician playing all these different elements, one musician speaking in a number of dialects.

That, for me, was an epiphany and a driving force. Crimson’s music has always been perhaps more varied than some of the other bands working at the same time. So, moving on from Schizoid Man through Larks’ Tongues in Aspic and arriving at Red, a particular feature of Bartók's writing was his use of the golden section [or golden ratio].

That’s apparent in the title track, correct?

Red uses the golden section within it. So Red, in a sense, is very much in a European folk music tradition, as coming through Bartók for me. It was instinctive that, for example, with Red, why would it have a five into a four? The answer is, because that’s the way you play it, no intellectual analysis.

You strap on and rock out, and that's what comes out at the end of it. On the introduction, the vocabulary is, once again, from one point of view of folk vocabulary from Eastern Europe.

The second track, Fallen Angels, includes a lot of interesting guitar flourishes. How did you approach that?

You strap on and rock out, and some things work better than others. [Laughs]

So it was a lot of improvisation as opposed to being thought out?

Yeah, that’s it. I kept a diary at the time, and for the first time since I wrote it 50 years ago – and it was never written for publication, this is my personal diary, various mental exercises, how I’m addressing my day, my thought process, feelings, and so on – I went back to it this afternoon.

My entry for Monday, July 8, 1974, the first day of recording, was: “Idea. Let everyone do what they want. Is that cowardice?” And then it goes on: “Today, my life has changed: glimpsed possibilities and prices to pay.” That’s just personal notes to myself. Then we go on to Monday, July 15, with another quote: “[Bruford's] drumming begins to irritate me. Held myself back from passing opinions.” And so, on we go.

That brings up the subject of the chemistry and working relationship between you, Bill Bruford, and John Wetton.

Here’s one from Wednesday, July 24, 1974: “Argument with Bill Bruford. Bill says, ‘They might as well get a session guitarist.’”

I suppose things were a bit tenuous between band members by this time.

Yeah. And I think whenever I consider a situation or an event or an undertaking, there are four criteria I apply to come to a view or judgment: time, place, person, and circumstance. Now, 1974 was the beginning of my entry into a liminal zone. Liminal zones are between points and processes. Qualities of liminalities can be found in places, times, people, and processes.

The liminal zone is the in-between zone. Three characteristics of liminality are ambiguity, hazard, and opportunity; the situation is non-determined. In King Crimson, we were at the end of my first seven years as a professional musician in London, from 1967 to ’74, at the beginning of the next seven-year period, in which King Crimson comes to an end, and in ’81, where King Crimson begins again. So the making of Red was ambiguous, characterized by hazard, but also opportunity.

Opportunity, as in the making of the music or the openness to change?

King Crimson had moved from being a five-piece to a four-piece at the beginning of ’73. David Cross had just left, partly by his own volition, and partly because John Wetton, in particular, didn't see any further possibility of King Crimson with David. And this was an interpersonal tension at the time.

I was very fond of David Cross, but nevertheless, in the evolving power dynamic of Bill, a very energetic drummer, constant activity, and John, a remarkably powerful and increasingly loud bass player, the front line of David Cross on violin and myself, we were struggling to stay, not on top, but shall we say, alongside.

And David’s instrument was a violin, and at the time it was not amplified. You didn't have amplified violins generally. So David – you couldn’t hear him. He couldn't hear himself. On stage, John Wetton was so loud that the front-of-house man had to simply take John out of the PA system. Even then, we weren’t able to overcome John’s volume. These were the kinds of dynamics and tensions we were dealing with.

Would you say those frustrations manifested as the heaviness of Red?

Yeah, I do. I think that’s what gave it an edge.

One More Red Nightmare balances catchiness with controlled chaos.

I believe John’s part came from an idea from a song back in ’72. We’d been throwing around in improvs at least through ’73, and then in the studio, pulling the parts together, and the arpeggiated section at the end I think probably came from within the recording session itself.

Now, conventionally in Crimson, I preferred us to play material live so that it’s inside the body. So when we get into the studio, you just throw it away and go with the music, wherever it leads you. But since we had some experience working together, we were able to pull together a number of ideas that were already in the Crimson cyber world, if you like, and pull them together with some coherence.

The back half of Red consists of two sprawling tracks, Providence and Starless. Are those long jams, or was there a lot of puzzling together with bits and pieces?

In terms of Providence, the piece originally included on the Red album was edited down to eight minutes. And from the notes from my diary, which I consulted this afternoon, just for you, I saw from the notes that we were listening to several improvs that we'd recorded live just on the final tour in America, including another improv from Providence and a live track from Asbury Park, New Jersey.

The simple example that Bill Bruford generally gives is, well, we didn't have enough written or composed material. Yeah, that's one fair comment. The second is that improvisation was such an essential part of King Crimson, and improvisation in the studio, by and large, doesn’t have the power of improvisation in front of an audience.

Why? When the audience is there, you have a family like a father, mother, and child. You have music, the musician, and the audience. The audience is mother to the music. And if you’re improvising in front of an audience, there’s nothing like exposure to public ridicule to galvanize your attention. Now, if the drunk in the third row really doesn't like what you’re doing, the bottles might come flying this way.

So when you’re improvising or playing in front of an audience, there is always an element of risk and uncertainty that you won’t find in a studio. That conveyed a part of what King Crimson was musically; we chose something we came to a consensus on, and that became Providence.

Was it a similar situation with Starless?

John regretted that, when he presented this to us in 1973, we didn’t recognize it. Well, it wasn’t complete. And in ’74, we did recognize it, and we played it live.

But if you listen to the live tracks, you’ll find that the lyrics aren’t complete, and on some lines, you hear John singing, but he’s singing a line, and he’s articulating, he’s vocalizing sounds but the lyrics aren’t written.

So clearly, in 1973, at the time of Starless and Bible Black, the song Starless wasn’t completed. But we had the song, which was a stunning song, may I say, breathtaking and quietly heartbreaking. And when Crimson was playing this song from 2014 to 2021, I was closely in touch with John and would email him from the road.

We played Starless, and on occasion, it was hard to keep a tear down. But there we are anyway. So, we have Starless, and then at the end of it, Bill came up with his gang-gang sound.

Now, Bill said to me around 1972 at the beginning of Larks’ Tongues, “I see it as my job to give you 100 ideas. And it’s fine if you throw out 99 of them.” So Bill was happy to live with a 99 percent failure rate. Me, I think a 10 percent failure rate – where you present 10 ideas and one doesn’t work – is a better way to go. But Bill’s one idea in 100 that worked was stunning.

He came up with this idea, and I began playing the very simple one-note version on two strings, moving up slowly as the changes happen with anticipation and retardation where they move in respect of the changes. That line is referred to by Steven Wilson as the “death of the prog guitar solo,” because it does virtually nothing other than move up slowly and incrementally until it really opens out widely.

As far as gear, did you primarily use your ’59 Les Paul across Red?

You have my Gibson Les Paul and a Hiwatt stack. By and large, that’s really enough for anyone if they have a background in analog. But I used my Pete Cornish pedalboard, which had a volume pedal, fuzz, and wah-wah. And also a [Watkins] Copicat echo unit. And hey, that’s pretty basic, but at the time, to actually have a pedalboard was sophisticated. I mean, that’s astonishing, isn't it?

It is. Save for Frank Marino, few players had full pedalboards in the mid-Seventies. That’s relatively high-tech stuff for the time.

Well, what I did was introduce one technical innovation. If you plug through a pedal, you lose gain and the signal gets weaker. So I suggested to Pete Cornish that he put in a bypass pedal so you have volume, but you have to switch in your fuzz or wah-wah if you want to use them, and when you don't, you switch it out. Now, that sounds so dumb, but at the time, it was actually a technical innovation – astonishing! [Laughs]

One of the tricks we used to use, for example, are Marshall stacks, where you'd have four inputs onto a Marshall stack – channel one and channel two – with an input and output on each. Those in the know would put an input on channel one and lead it to an output on channel two. So channel two would crank channel one; it’s a simple analog technique that I learned in ’69, and boy, would that give you some crunch.

If you look at the back cover of Red, there’s a picture of a needle moving into the red zone, hitting a critical point where, I suppose, it will blow. There seems to be some symbolism there regarding the state of Crimson while recording Red. Seeing as you have your diary open, can you give direct insight into your mindset and what led to Crimson breaking up after Red’s release?

Looking at that today, what does that tell me? That tells me, “Hey, dude, crank it. Go for it as far as it can possibly go. No compromise.”

Looking at Fripp and Brian Eno [Fripp & Eno, officially], there’s the album title (No Pussyfooting) [1973], and the title came from what I wrote on a piece of paper at the session to record, meaning no compromise, no wussing out, because the management and record company aren’t going to like this. So, most “no pussyfooting” was the equivalent to crank. If there was going to be an alternative title for Red today, I would say call it Crank.

At the time, my direction in life was somewhere else. And moving through these diaries for the time, I saw myself going into retreat. Here’s an entry: Saturday, July 13, 1974: “I went down from London to Wimborne to see my mum and told her that it was around the fifth of July, just immediately getting back from New York and the final Crimson show, that it became obvious to me that I had to leave the industry and go into retreat.”

And I told my mother, and this is a quote I had not remembered, where my mother said to me, “Why can’t I have normal kids?” [Laughs]

Anyway, for me, I had to leave Crimson, but that didn’t mean Crimson had to end. So, the question for me was how to keep King Crimson going as an authentic King Crimson – but without me. And in these various entries, an early one was where I’d called a violinist who worked with ELO, and maybe he would replace David Cross and keep the band going.

And I see that I called Steve Hackett on a number of occasions and that Steve was a guitarist who could maybe replace me. All of these are discussions underway, and I felt a responsibility to the band and the road managers because they had working lives, and I felt responsibility toward them.

But eventually, [manager] David Enthoven made it fairly clear to me that they weren’t interested in a King Crimson without Robert. So, at that point, I phoned up Bill and John and said, “Well, this is it.” So that, I guess, was that, and Bill wasn’t happy. There’s various quotes you’ll find from interviews at the time… I think Bill was disappointed. I think John was too. But what to say? I wasn’t able to persuade anyone about an alternative way of King Crimson moving forward.

Red wasn’t a hit, but in the years since, it’s become beloved, especially in the U.S. What’s more, it’s become very influential on heavy metal and prog. Tumultuous as it was, it seems like an important moment in your trajectory. How do you look back on it now?

It is one of the three Crimson albums that, for me, has a completeness or integrity about it, along with In the Court of the Crimson King and [1981's] Discipline.

Looking at it objectively – and as a fan – I can see why you feel that way. But I’d love to hear your perspective on why you feel that way.

Red is a complete and satisfying statement. In the Court is a complete and satisfying statement. Discipline is a complete and satisfying statement. If you didn’t have any of the albums in between, you would think, “Yeah, I can see this band's journey…” If you put the other albums in between, you can see how we got from Court to Red.

Discipline is interesting because it came completely out of the blue. No one could have seen that coming. On the other hand, how could it not have been what it was? You probably know that Red was the album found in Kurt Cobain’s CD player, and Butch Vig told John Wetton that seeing Crimson, I think in Salt Lake City in ’74, was a very powerful moment for him.

I do. Those stories only give credence to Red’s legacy and impact.

When Billy Sheehan was in Japan, I think in 2000, he invited me into the dressing room and began playing Frame by Frame on bass with Paul Gilbert. Billy later told me that if he had to take three albums to a desert island, Red would be one of them. And I trust Billy’s point of view.

Hey, look, I can’t make assessments on this, but those are the three pivotal albums for me. In the Court of the Crimson King and Red bookcase that first period, and Discipline somehow keeps it going – but from an entirely different dimension.

• Red: 50th Anniversary is out now via Panegyric
• This article first appeared in Guitar World. Subscribe and save.

Robert Fripp’s genre-amalgamating prog giants, King Crimson, might not have had the same rough-and-tumble aggression as the heavy metal bands that followed in their wake, but there was a heaviness to their music that helped bridge the gap between rock and its louder, angrier cousin, Fripp believes.

The guitarist has scoffed at the fact that the band doesn’t always get its due for helping set the scene, despite Ozzy Osbourne’s well-documented love of the group.

By 1971, Fripp began to butt heads with their chief lyricist, Peter Sinfield, who, inspired by a holiday to the Spanish island of Formentera, envisioned a gentle, Miles-Davis-goes-Mediterranean sound moving forward. It influenced their fourth album, Islands, but with its follow-up, 1973’s Larks' Tongues in Aspic, Fipp tells Guitar World that his “metal voice” was beginning to find its volume.

Even on their 1969 debut LP, In the Court of the Crimson King, the band's penchant for heavy was apparent – 21st Century Schizoid Man “was about as metal as it gets,” Fripp says (indeed, GW included it on our list of the 20 heaviest songs before Black Sabbath). But on Larks, that sound grew more prominent.

“I saw a recent video on YouTube on the 10 precursors to heavy metal, and …Schizoid Man wasn’t among them,” Fripp tells Guitar World. “That’s absurd. I mean, Ozzy Osbourne not only recorded it on a solo album [2005’s Under Cover, which included a guest spot from Joe Bonamassa], but he was always generous enough to acknowledge Crimson.

“The powerful, metallic element has always been there in Crimson,” he underscores. “For me, it became increasingly articulated in the simple question: What would Jimi Hendrix have sounded like playing a Béla Bartók string quartet?”

One man’s simple question is another’s mind-boggler, I suppose.

“In other words,” he then adds, “the sheer power and spirit of the American blues‐rock tradition speaking through Hendrix’s Foxy Lady or Purple Haze.”

King Crimson does get their share of love from certain factions of the metal community – a cover of Larks Tongues in Aspic, Pt. 2 is a bonus track on Dream Theater’s Black Clouds and Silver Linings, for instance.

Voivod have also covered Schizoid Man, and Between the Buried and Me's take on Three of a Perfect Pair is another standout. But just how much their harem scarem heaviness is acknowledged in the genre’s folklore is often understated at Fripp's behest.

For the full interview with Robert Fripp, pick up a copy of Guitar World issue 600, on sale now.

“There’s a funny sense you get when you first make a record,” Greg Lake told Bass Player back in 2016. “There's the immediate satisfaction if it's a hit, but when it stands the test of time, you get a different satisfaction. You see where going the extra mile to make it right really pays off.”

Lake was referring to his work with seminal prog-rock trio Emerson, Lake & Palmer (ELP), whose legacy was built upon the somewhat unlikely success of songs like Lucky Man, Karn Evil 9, Tarkus, and Fanfare for the Common Man.

They are one of the few prog-rock bands to have cracked the Billboard charts, and with songs that utterly defy Top 40 convention, no less.

ELP formed in 1970 after Lake departed King Crimson, a band he helped canonize with his childhood friend, guitarist Robert Fripp. King Crimson's debut album, In the Court of the Crimson King – Lake's sole recording with the band – remains one of the most influential albums of the prog-rock genre.

It was one of the first rock records to eschew blues influences, drawing instead on classical, jazz, and symphonic music.

For Lake, who switched from guitar to bass guitar when he joined, it provided the template for ELP, a band defined not only by the members’ immense musical talent, but also by their deft adaptations of classical music.

“I was very cavalier when I picked up the bass. They really wanted me as the lead singer, and so Robert said, ‘Would you be prepared to play bass?’ And I thought, ‘Four strings, six strings... what could be the problem?’

“Little did I realize that bass playing is an entirely different world; it's an art form within itself. And although the instruments look similar, they perform a totally different function – they require a different set of skills and knowledge.”

How did you develop your playing style?

The first thing to wake me up to the difference between guitar and bass was the first rehearsal I did with King Crimson. Michael Giles, the drummer, started to bang furiously on his snare, and the whole band stopped.

He looked up at me – I'll never forget the look on his face, a look of pity, sort of annoyed – and he said, ‘Listen, when I play the snare drum, you don't play. That's how the snare cuts through.’ It was my first rude awakening to bass playing.

How would you describe your sound and style?

In the beginning, my bass playing was mixed with guitar technique, but the first thing I missed was sustain. I used tape-wound strings, and immediately I found it unrewarding not to be able to sustain a note. And so I soon discovered wire-wound strings, which gave me the sound that I was looking for, which was the low end of a Steinway piano. That's the sound I wanted.

Do you ever play fingerstyle, or do you always use a pick?

I'm a pick player. When I started playing fingerstyle, it was literally, ‘boom, boom, boom.’ The more percussive way to play was with a pick. And of course, because I played guitar for all those years, I could pick well, so that was my game.

Would you say it's more challenging to sing and play bass than to sing and play guitar?

I don't know about challenging, but it is different. When you play guitar, you have the choice of whether to play or not to play. With bass, you're going to play whether you like it or not, because you're part of the rhythm section. If you stop, the whole thing falls apart.

In ELP, you played both bass and guitar. How did you decide which instrument to play on any given song?

I always craved playing the guitar. It's in my soul, but the problem, when I played guitar, was that the bass went missing. Keith would sometimes try to put bass in, using organ pedals or Moog pedals, but it was never the same.

There's so much going on between Palmer's drumming and Emerson's keyboards. Was it challenging to fit basslines into that milieu?

To be perfectly honest, I did find it challenging with Carl. He doesn't have what I would call a very solid feel. Technically, he's incredibly competent – he's a great, fast, technical drummer – but from a bass player's standpoint, if I play with someone like Sheila E., for example, or Jeff Porcaro, the floor is really solid.

Carl's style is based very much on Buddy Rich and jazz, and the tuning of his drums is incredibly high. His kick was more ‘boop, boop’ than ‘thud, thud.’

As a producer I had to work very hard to make the bass and the bass drum marry up. There was a clash that, in a strange way, became the identity of ELP.

You produced the first six ELP records, as well as In the Court of the Crimson King. Would you agree that bass players seem to make good producers?

Maybe there's some truth to that. You do have a certain perspective as a bass player of what's going on around you, or maybe it has to do with personality. I didn't have any ambitions of becoming a famous producer; I just enjoyed doing it. All of the records I produced went platinum, and the ones I didn't, didn’t.

What separated ELP from the rest of the herd back in the ’70s?

We looked to different roots. Most rock ’n’ roll at that time was based on American blues, gospel and Motown. We didn't want to be just another band basing ourselves on the same stuff every other band had based their music on. So we looked to European roots rather than American.

We looked to European Folk music, minstrel music, classical music – everything from Greensleeves to Mars, the Bringer of War, because it made our music different. It was a different type of music. I don't like to say it was better music, because I don't believe that.

Good-quality blues is as good as Beethoven. But Beethoven is undoubtedly more colourful harmonically, instrumentally, and structurally.

What do you think of music nowadays vs. in the ’60s or ’70s?

In those days, there was a premium on originality. You'll often hear the word ‘progressive’ used in terms of me. I don't like that word; it sounds elitist and pretentious. The word ‘original’ – striving for originality – would be far better.

When ELP and King Crimson started, the essence was to be original, to be different. We never thought about being progressive, we thought about being different, and there was a value in that. Nowadays everyone sounds the same.

Robert Fripp is primarily known for playing his beloved 1959 Gibson Les Paul Custom. Earlier in his career he often used a 1962 Gibson ES-345, then later he transitioned to Fernandes, brandishing a custom Gold Top – or as Fripp calls it, a facsimile of a Gibson.

But there have been other guitars, which he deems his “honorable mentions.” The first is the Roland G-303 synthesizer guitar, which he first came upon in 1980 and utilized with The League of Gentlemen. Then, with King Crimson, Fripp, and Adrian Belew both played G-303s.

“I used it with Crimson from ’81 to ’84,” Fripp tells Guitar World. “In the ‘90s, Adrian had no more use for his and he very generously gave it to me. So downstairs I have the two G-303 synth guitars used on the ’81 to ’84 Crimson albums.”

After the band’s second act ended in the mid-80s, he got himself reacquainted with single cuts.

“I was given a Tokai Les Paul copy in about 1986 by the man who imported all Tokais into England.

“He said it was the only Tokai copy in England – all the others had had to be sent back. I don’t play it much at the moment, but it remains one of my favorite instruments. It’s sitting there next to the Rolands. It’s a very honorable mention.”

It might seem that he’s a bit of a six-string accumulator, but he insists he’s “not a collector” – instead, he keeps guitars around with intent.

“The guitar must be right for the music you're playing,” he explains. “All my good instruments have been Gibsons or facsimiles. The question is, why?”

He says it comes down to the proper fit when the guitar rests against his body, and that it must feel suitable for both hands. It’s usually been Gibson – although there’s another honorable mention.

“In 1975 at the Reading Festival, Robin Trower said to me, ‘Do you have a Fender?’

“I said, ‘No.’ Robin opened up his case, and there was a 1957 Fender Stratocaster. He said, ‘Do you like it?’ I said, ‘Yes.’ He said, ‘Take it!’ Remarkably generous, isn’t it?”

Lovely as the ’57 Strat was, Fripp remains a Gibson and Fernandes devotee, and the gifted guitar just didn’t fit.

“With an instrument, we put it on, we move inside the instrument, and the instrument becomes an extension of the body.

“One day, probably in the ‘00s, Robin said, ‘Do you still have that Fender?’ I said, ‘Yes. It’s lovely, but I don’t play it.’ So I took it to Robin and gave it back to him. He’s such a generous player and man – and still, may I say, playing very well!”

There’s one last guitar Fripp remembers, for a very different reason.

“I’ll throw in my D’Angelico 17-inch Excel, which I bought in early 1978 in New York. I never intended to use it as a working instrument.

“But every working player knows that a day will come when something goes terribly wrong with their financial affairs – and they’ll need an instrument for that rainy day.”

He continues: “What happened was the dishonesty of our management at the time. He diverted two years of my royalties into his own personal cashflow, which led to financial disaster.

“And I sold the D’Angelico to buy a PA so that legal crafty guitarists could go touring in Europe! Working musicians know that some days are rainy.”

Robert Fripp is a Gibson (and Fernandes) aficionado through and through. However, the King Crimson guitarist did have an albeit very brief brush with Strats at one point in 1975.

“At the Reading Festival, Robin Trower said to me, ‘Do you have a Fender?’” he tells Guitar World in a new interview.

“I said, ‘No.’ And then, Robin opened up the case, and there was a 1957 Fender Stratocaster. He said, ‘Do you like it?’ I said, ‘Yes.’ And he said, ‘Take it.’ Remarkably generous, isn't it?”

However, despite appreciating the gift, the guitar had to be stowed away. “It didn't fit,” Fripp says matter-of-factly.

“With an instrument, we put it on, we move inside the instrument, and the instrument becomes an extension of the body."

Fast forward 30-odd years, and Trower recalled that he had given one of his highly coveted late-’50s Strats to Fripp.

Fripp continues, “One day – and Robin and I are still friends – probably in the noughties, Robin said to me, ‘Do you still have that Fender?’ I said, ‘Yes. It's lovely, but I don't play it.’

“And so, I took it back to Robin and gave it back to him! He's such a generous player and man. And still, may I say, playing very well!” He adds complementarily.

In May, Fripp revealed he had recently suffered a heart attack and was recovering from two emergency surgeries.

Guitar World's upcoming interview with Robert Fripp will be published in the coming weeks.

Robert Fripp has revealed he recently suffered a heart attack and is recovering from two emergency surgeries.

The King Crimson guitarist – who also wrote a fascinating trio of albums with The Police’s Andy Summers – turns 79 later this week (May 16), but remains in fine spirits despite the health scare.

Dedicating his latest Upbeat Moments video with his wife and partner in Sunday Lunch insanity Toyah Willcox to reveal the news, they’ve explained how it started with chest pains, which had been persistent for “a couple of weeks”.

“You have had a pretty exceptional two weeks,” Toyah says at the start of the video while looking her husband in the eyes. He then states, “My upbeat moment is: I'm alive.”

Fripp had chalked his pains off as acid reflux. He was then getting ready to fly out to Italy to play at an Orchestra Of Crafty Guitarists in Bergamo, and with the pains ongoing, he arranged to see a doctor upon his arrival.

Toyah says her husband found himself “in the right place at the right time” – after an assessment, he was rushed to the hospital. But Fripp wasn’t quite convinced by some of the hospital’s methods.

“Well here's the interesting bit,” he says. “I was in A&E not quite knowing what was going on other than I knew they were going to do something, and an orderly came along and shaved my balls!

Fripp says he was diagnosed as having a trifurcated artery. A pair of stents were inserted during the two surgeries.

Willcox visibly starts to tear up as she explains how the language barrier, with so few medical staff at the hospital able to speak English, shrouded the events in stress and uncertainty. At one point Fripp mistakenly started to remove his clothing when he had been asked what he wanted to eat.

“They were complex moments,” Fripp underscores.

Though unable to perform at the event in the picturesque and mountainous Italian city, he was still able to play a starring role by directing the Guitar Circle show.

“It was stunning,” Fripp purrs. “The audience were prepped with orchestral maneuvers and it really was a magical event for me.”

After giving the band his blessing, Fripp has been watching Beat – the King Crimson tribute band featuring Steve Vai and Adrian Belew – closely from afar. Vai revealed that three days into their first tour, he received an email from Fripp who offered some handy pointers for a song that was getting the best of him.

Guitar World wishes Fripp a speedy recovery.

Four decades later, it’s a pairing so strange you’re tempted to write it off as a fever dream. Yet the release of a new boxset comprising 1982’s I Advance Masked and 1984’s Bewitched albums – plus 11 unheard tracks from the vaults – confirms that Andy Summers and Robert Fripp really did join forces.

As star names from the disparate worlds of stadium rock and prog respectively, The Police and King Crimson guitarists also seemed poles apart as players.

But as Summers tells us, their fleeting, never-to-be-revisited collaboration pushed the envelope with its collision of jazz, ambient and world flavours.

What made you want to collaborate with Robert Fripp in the early 80s?

“Well, I wasn’t into King Crimson at all. Definitely not my kind of music. But Robert and I come from the same area of England. I was part of the Bournemouth music scene and you heard about this ‘weird kid’ out in Wimborne – and it was Robert Fripp because he has a certain style.”

“At 16, I got a job as a guitarist in a hotel band with some very stellar jazz musicians. I eventually left and went to London with Zoot Money – actually, I got fired for trying to pick up hotel girls – and Robert took over the ‘guitar seat’, let’s call it. So there’s a sort of cosmic connection there, I suppose.

“So years pass. I went to university in America, studied music, came back, was down and out, as it were, and had to get reconnected. And the person who reconnected me, strangely, was Robert. He gave me the number of a drummer, Mike Giles, who was just about to tour with Neil Sedaka, so I had a gig with him.

“I subsequently became the world’s most famous guitarist with The Police. And being the kind of searching musician I am, I started looking around. I was starting to feel somewhat musically hemmed in by being in that band. I wanted to stretch my legs and play with somebody else, just to see how I’d do, almost like an experiment on myself.”

“At that time, Robert was living in New York and I was there all the time. So he popped into my mind: ‘Oh yeah, Robert Fripp, he’s a good guitarist. Maybe we could do something together.’ It started with a fairly casual hook-up, when we went to practise in a photographer’s flat in Soho.”

What were your impressions of Robert as a guitar player?

“You know, he plays the way he plays. It’s that multimeter, single-string style that he plays very well. You couldn’t say, ‘Oh man, let’s do a blues’ or ‘This thing is in 3/4’ or ‘Let’s make it more country.’ His thing is the polyrhythmic guitar lines. That’s what he does. He doesn’t really do anything else. He doesn’t play the blues. He’s never played the blues in his life. That’s not who he is.

“I’m a much broader guitarist. I saw that his style was going to be the anchor for whatever we did, and my job was going to be to somehow put the flesh on the bones, and see if we could make up an album’s worth of material. We sort of messed around for a couple of hours and said, ‘Yeah, it’ll be okay’. We got on very well. We were the usual ironic Englishmen, living in New York and laughing at it all.”

Where were the album sessions held?

“Well, another common link was an engineer back in Bournemouth, a guy called Tony Arnold. We were all in awe of him as kids because he had these incredible American guitars that nobody else had. So he was this giant figure that loomed over us.

“At this point, he’d started a recording studio in Bournemouth called Arny’s Shack. It was a little two-room joint, but Tony was absolutely immaculate in his setups, everything technical was top of the line. So we thought, ‘We’ll go and record there.’

“And we actually had a lot of fun doing it. We had to work it out, how to come up with this stuff. It wasn’t a question of guitar chops – we had that in abundance – but [the challenge] was to make some sort of imaginative album between the two of us that didn’t really sound like jazz or pop music, necessarily, but was reflective of the two characters doing the guitar playing.”

I Advance Masked is arguably the more avant-garde of the two albums. Why do you think you were so experimental outside of The Police?

“Well, I think my ears just always went there. As you go on and you mature and you’re interested in ‘real’ music, why are you going to stick with I-VI-IV-V?”

Fripp said Bewitched was “a lot more Andrew than it is me”. Is that your memory?

“Yeah, it’s true, to a point. You know, he is on every track. But he had to go on tour, so I finished the album and mixed it on my own. There was less of a full engagement, let’s say, between the two of us on Bewitched. The first album, it felt like we had something to prove: ‘Can we pull it off?’ And the second one, we went, ‘Well, we’ve got our style now.’ But it’s true: he couldn’t make all the sessions, so it was more or less left to me.”

What setup were you using in the studio?

“I think I had my JC-120 and Telecaster from The Police. Probably also a Stratocaster, a Les Paul and an acoustic of some sort. You know, a small battery. And my Pete Cornish pedalboard, which I obviously was very used to working with in The Police.

“There’s some chorus on those albums – and the most fancy thing that was available in that period was the new Roland guitar synthesiser, which is in there somewhere. We also had this Yamaha drum machine – and neither Robert nor I could get it to work.”

What was the reaction to the two albums?

“The first one was a real success. It got into the Billboard Top 50, which, for the kind of music it was, was astonishing. I guess Robert was popular, and I was, like, mega. So a lot of notice was taken of it. I thought it was weird that it got that high in the American chart. Shocking, actually. But very encouraging.

“We never went on the road or anything. We never became a band. There never seemed to be time. You can imagine what it was like for me. Robert didn’t like screaming girls, either, so…”

Looking back on the experience, do you think you and Robert left a mark on each other’s guitar playing?

“I doubt that Robert would be interested in playing anything like me at all. Because I really came from jazz and blues, and then eventually rock. I was a very different player. And I got his thing, but I wasn’t interested in it, particularly.

“Of course I could play the lines – I had the technical facility to play anything. And that’s what, really, he would bring to every song. I couldn’t say, ‘Robert, why don’t you play some altered chords’; that wasn’t his thing. He would play the way he would play and we would fit around it.

“But it was all fairly congenial. We weren’t, like, fighting or arguing over it. It was such an odd setup, with two rather disparate guitarists, but it worked. Out of that difficulty, it made something very good.”

The two original albums are being reissued along with a disc of bonus material. How did that come to light?

“I got this call about three years ago. I had all the two-inch tapes in a storehouse in Los Angeles. Who knew what was on them? No-one. But all these other tracks turned up, which were surprisingly good.

“So I’m pleased to see this come out because there’s some material that we didn’t even know about, and it all seems to have held up quite well. They’re a really weird couple of records. Not necessarily by today’s standards; things have moved on. Maybe we were ahead of our time.”

Would you consider reconnecting with Robert to make more of this music?

“It felt like it was enough. I would not be against it. Robert would have to approach me. Let’s see if [this reissue] stirs anything up. I mean, Robert’s out there doing his… I don’t know how you describe that stuff he does with his wife. He’s become like a one-man cover band. So I don’t know, knowing him, if he’d be up for anything like that. It’d have to be very good. But I wouldn’t necessarily categorically say no.”

• This article first appeared in Guitarist. Subscribe and save.
• Complete Recordings 1981 - 1984 is out now via Panegyric.

In the early 1980s, Andy Summers and Robert Fripp – each of whom represented two opposite ends of the electric guitar playing spectrum – formed an unlikely partnership and joined forces for a string of avant-garde albums that jammed together their distinct worlds of stadium rock and prog.

In the new issue of Guitarist, Summers sits down to discuss how the obscure and unexpected guitar duo came to be thanks to a “cosmic connection” – even if he never particularly warmed to some of Fripp’s previous work.

“I wasn’t into King Crimson at all. Definitely not my kind of music,” Summers recalls when asked about the collaboration’s origins, before recalling how the pair swam in similar sonic circles when they were growing up.

“But Robert and I come from the same area of England,” he goes on. “I was part of the Bournemouth music scene and you heard about this ‘weird kid’ out in Wimborne – and it was Robert Fripp because he has a certain style.

“At 16, I got a job as a guitarist in a hotel band with some very stellar jazz musicians. I eventually left and went to London with Zoot Money – actually, I got fired for trying to pick up hotel girls – and Robert took over the ‘guitar seat’, let’s call it. So there’s a sort of cosmic connection there, I suppose.”

Years later, after Summers had flown to America to study music at university, the soon-to-be Police guitarist was in need of reconnecting with the music scene, and it was none other than Fripp who helped him do that, hooking him up with drummer Mike Giles, who was about to go on tour with Neil Sedaka.

Success with The Police soon followed, but before long Summers was on the hunt for another creative outlet to flex his experimental six-string muscles.

“I subsequently became the world’s most famous guitarist with The Police,” he goes on. “And being the kind of searching musician I am, I started looking around.

“I was starting to feel somewhat musically hemmed in by being in that band. I wanted to stretch my legs and play with somebody else, just to see how I’d do, almost like an experiment on myself.

“At that time, Robert was living in New York and I was there all the time. So he popped into my mind: ‘Oh yeah, Robert Fripp, he’s a good guitarist. Maybe we could do something together.’ It started with a fairly casual hook-up, when we went to practise in a photographer’s flat in Soho.”

Those casual jams turned into two albums – 1982’s I Advance Masked and 1984’s Bewitched – and a previously unheard compilation of material named Mother Hold The Candle Steady, which was recently unearthed and released for the first time as part of The Complete Recordings reissue.

Visit Magazines Direct to pick up the latest issue of Guitarist to read the full interview with Andy Summers.

Steve Vai’s guitar tech has spoken about how he saved a show from impending disaster by sourcing a full suite of gear in just four hours. It gives a rare insight into the kind of seat-of-your-pants work that many guitar techs have to pull off day in, and day out. Truly, they are unsung heroes.

Doug MacArthur has been Steve Vai's tech of choice for many years, and it's his ability to find solutions in the heat of the moment that has earned him such a trusted reputation.

“I’ve had some really bizarre gear [and] rig moments,” MacArthur tells Boss. “Those moments can be terrifying at the time, but 20 minutes later, it can be hilarious. It becomes a good story and a great opportunity to learn.”

A one-off show in Dubai saw the tech prove his worth in last-gasp circumstances.

“We traveled to Dubai to play a show. We flew from Los Angeles via London, but none of the gear made it with us,” he recalls.

“So, we landed in the Middle East at about one o’clock in the morning. The gig is the next day, and we have no gear! There was no way we would cancel the gig, but there were no guitars, amps, pedals, or anything. The question is: How am I going to make the show work for Steve Vai?”

As the old adage goes, the show must go on, and MacArthur isn’t one to bow out without a fight.

“Thankfully, with some pieces of gear I had as carry-on luggage and going to every music store there, plus my guy at Ibanez, I could scrounge together enough gear in about four hours for us to do a sound check and the show,” he says, rather breathlessly.

“And it was a great show! But that was the most trial-by-fire moment that I could think of: going to a faraway part of the world and having to pull everything together on such short notice to make a show that has to happen.

“That was an intense one, but it was great afterward. I remember Steve and I sitting on the couch after the gig, just looking at each other like, “Did that happen?”

Boss pedals proved a key part of the makeshift pedalboard he constructed for Vai, saying: “I think we used the CH-1 Super Chorus into two DD-7 Digital Delays. It worked great. And they’re always consistent. You can find them anywhere.”

It differed greatly from the 'board they'd carefully put together for his recent shows with King Crimson supergroup Beat, which saw a Fractal amp modeler at its core.

“The Beat rig is different from the normal Vai rig,” he explains. “It’s basically a wah, overdrive, MXR Phase 90, and a DigiTech Whammy DT. There’s also an Xotic EP Booster which Steve’s really liking lately.

“It’s a little grittier than his normal kind of compressed hi-fi overdrive sound. He used that a lot on this tour, a lot of the time just to give the guitar a kind of ugly boost for certain synth sounds. Things pushed a little too far – that kind of sound. We also used a UA Max compressor. That was just for the Roland JC-120 Jazz Chorus amplifier.”

Beyond that, Vai gets “a host of expression pedals” to play with, as well as Boss’ latest GM-800 and SY-1000 guitar synthesizers.

MacArthur will join Vai on the road once more later this year as part of the SatchVai band. That will see Pete Thorn trade licks with Steve Vai and Joe Satriani across a three-pronged electric guitar attack that celebrates the virtuosos’ historic relationship in a brand-new way.

When BEAT – the supergroup tasked with performing King Crimson’s trilogy of ’80s albums – formed last year, it did so with the blessing of Robert Fripp, who even coined their name.

The touring project brought together Crimson alumni Adrian Belew and bassist Tony Levin, Tool drummer Danny Carey, and electric guitar virtuoso Steve Vai, who was cast as the stand-in for Fripp.

In between that initial announcement and the tour’s opening night, Vai spoke of his troubles with nailing some of Fripp’s “relentless” parts, while Belew theorized about how the Fripp/Belew and Belew/Vai guitar partnerships would compare.

However, while Vai felt the pair had gotten off to a successful start, an email soon landed in his inbox from none other than Robert Fripp, which offered some additional advice on a rather tricky track.

“So this is a funny story,” Vai tells Sweetwater as part of a special mini-documentary of the tour. “We get to our second show and I get an email from Robert. He was commenting on some of the clips he saw, which was very nice and constructive. And then he said at the end, 'Can I make a suggestion for Frame By Frame?’”

Funnily enough, Fripp singled out the song that Vai had struggled with most in the run-up to the tour. Vai had previously cited his shoulder issues, which required surgery, as the reason why he struggled with its demanding endurance.

“‘Why don't you do your hammering with the notes, and then take it out? Improvise your hammering and move from one chord to the other,’” was Fripp's advice.

Vai has previously spoken about the advice he received from Fripp following those early shows, and recently discussed with Guitar World how his approach to tackling Frame By Frame completely changed after receiving that email.

“That was something I’d thought about doing initially, but it would take it far away from the original part,” he said. “But when it came from Robert as a suggestion, I thought, ‘Yeah, that’s my wheelhouse.’

“I did it that night at the show, and it worked beautifully. It’s unique to me – yet it was birthed by Robert and Adrian, you know?”

The talents behind BEAT have previously spoken about how it would be “disrespectful” to label the band as King Crimson, despite half of the group’s history with the iconic prog rock institution.

Yet they wanted to stay as true to the original songs as possible, so it’s surprising to hear Fripp wanted to push Vai into a more individualistic territory. Nevertheless, it showcases Fripp’s understanding that every player approaches the guitar a little differently.

Vai has another chance to put the advice into practice when the band plays Chile in June, with more tour dates expected to be announced in due course.

Robert Fripp was born in Dorset, England in 1946. His 50-plus years of work with King Crimson is full of mind-bending and finger-twisting guitar parts that would take several lifetimes to fully comprehend.

So we will focus on the ’80s era which featured Fripp alongside Adrian Belew on guitar and vocals. Tracks like Frame By Frame, Discipline, and Three Of A Perfect Pair feature a unique guitar style focused on odd, poly-metric riffs, melodies and motifs played with relentless alternate picking.

In 2024 it was announced that a new band named BEAT would feature Adrian Belew and Steve Vai, who was hand picked by Robert Fripp to perform his guitar parts, which Steve himself admits is a challenge of the tallest order.

Each of our examples is played with strict alternate picking in order to give the music rock solid timing and perfect execution. It will challenge your picking accuracy, especially when skipping from string to string without speeding up or slowing down. Take some time to study your picking hand, either by using a mirror, or videoing yourself to look for any excessive motions.

The concept is simple, in that your pick should travel from note to note and string to string in the most relaxed and economical way as possible. Use your wrist to move your hand in a loose, but controlled fashion, using as little of the tip of the pick as you can to produce a clear attack, but avoid digging in too much as this slows down string changes.

Playing these examples confidently and in time with the backing tracks is a numbers game. King Crimson music often layers two or more different time signatures on top of each other.

This concept was inspired by Indonesian gamelan music and applied to the guitar parts by Fripp and Belew. Each part is usually panned left and right and each is each relatively simple once you know the numerical code. But the two parts combined create an illusion of incredible complexity.

In our examples we’ve kept to 3/4 and 4/4 time. Within that, a bar of 16th notes can be divided into any even, or odd note groupings you wish, in order to compose repeating melodic motifs within it.

We have described the numerical codes for unlocking each riff in the tab captions, so be sure to count through each example and be confident you can do it in a way that makes sense to you.

Practising with a metronome is highly recommended, the idea being to focus on keeping the 16th-note phrasing even. The next challenge is to play along with the backing tracks on which we’ve included some Adrian Belew style counter melodies which are often similar to the Fripp-style part, but slightly different, or even displaced through the bar differently.

This is vastly different to playing to a simple metronome click as the sound of the other rhythms will inevitably affect your coordination and sense of where the downbeat is, adding an extra challenge to expanding your discipline. But as they say, ‘no pain, no gain’!

Play each example slowly, focusing on your accuracy, counting, timing and economy of motion before gradually increasing the tempo until you can comfortably play each section up to speed with the backing tracks. Good luck!

Get the tone

Amp Settings: Gain 5, Bass 2, Middle 5, Treble 6, Reverb 1

Robert uses Gibson Les Paul and Fernandes guitars with a Roland JC-120 for his classic clean chorus sound. You can use any clean guitar amp with a chorus pedal and set both the effect rate and depth high.

Use a medium guitar pick to soften the attack on the strings for a more even tone and add a compressor pedal before the amp to further control the overall picking consistency.

Example 1

This riff is based around four repeats of a 10-note pattern that’s played across the bar lines. This not particularly easy pattern can be broken down into smaller groups of 4, 3 & 3. After the four repeats, finish off the bar with two more four-note groups.

Example 2

Here we have an extreme string skipping riff played in a repeating six-note pattern from major in the first bar to minor in the second bar. Use strict alternate picking while moving your hand from the wrist and aim to keep the tip of your pick as close to the strings as possible, without accidentally hitting them until you pick.

Example 3

This riff is based in F# minor pentatonic (F#-A-B-C#-E) and descends using 3rd and 4th intervals played with a series of two string barres played as finger rolls to keep the notes separated. Think of the pattern as four groups of seven 16th notes with the final note being extended to a quarter-note to complete the bar.

Example 4

This riff is based in the A Aeolian mode (A-B-C-D-E-F-G) played with the first finger at 7th fret and fourth finger at the 10th fret. Use all four fingers with one finger per fret to play the notes and keep your pick moving strictly down and up throughout.

Example 5

This is a long riff played in 16th notes across three bars in G whole-tone scale (G-A-B-C#-D#-F). Learn each bar in isolation first before joining them together.

The phrasing of the first bar is mainly based in groups of five notes, bar two is comprised of threes and fours, and the final bar goes back to a five-note pattern.

With their fourth album, 1981’s Ghost in the Machine, British new wave rockers the Police had laid the groundwork for their eventual domination of the global music scene, one that would see the group secure their status as the biggest band on the planet with 1983’s Synchronicity.

Inside the platinum-haired trio’s musical bubble, though, Andy Summers, their Tele-wielding guitarist, had a yearning to establish an identity in his own right outside of the confines of the Police.

“Establishing an identity was exactly what I was wanting to do,” Summers says today. “I’m not an insecure individual, but as you can imagine, we were so swamped by all the Police stuff – 24/7, year in, year out – that I sort of felt like I had to step outside of that for a minute and just do something with somebody else.”

Summers would team with King Crimson guitarist Robert Fripp to record the first of two instrumental albums, beginning with 1982’s I Advance Masked. Experimental in spirit, I Advance Masked saw both guitarists exploring musical terrain in a free-form, improvisational approach with Summers fully embracing the incoming innovative technology of guitar synths.

The pair’s second and last outing together, 1984’s Bewitched, continued on this experimental route but was a lot more structured, concise and accessible, with Summers taking on a greater creative role with the album’s overall sonic palette.

“Making those albums with Fripp was kind of like a therapy thing for myself,” Summers says. “I mean, it was challenging to make those records, but they both came out pretty well, and I Advance Masked made it to Number 60 on the Billboard album chart, so that was kind of pleasing.”

You started using the new technology of guitar synths with the Police, particularly on 1980’s Don’t Stand So Close to Me. But you took a much heavier experimental approach on your two albums with Robert Fripp. Why is that?

“It was more instrumental, and I felt that because we were not playing behind a singer, we didn’t necessarily have to follow any type of song forms, so we pushed it all out a bit. And Robert was up for that, as he’s more in that direction anyway, so it was very natural to do that.

“As we weren’t trying to make pop songs, I began experimenting musically with a Roland MSQ-700 sequencer, a Roland TR-727 drum machine, a Yamaha DX7 synth and a Roland JP-6 [Jupiter 6] synth.”

I Advance Masked was free-form and unstructured in its compositional approach, especially compared to Bewitched, which adhered to a more structured form.

“Yes, but I can’t remember a lot of it off the top of my head, except that I ended up finishing it off on my own because Robert had to leave. Because of that, I had to produce it and do it all, too.”

There’s one track on Bewitched – What Kind of Man Reads Playboy – where you seem to perfectly distill the state of the electric guitar in the mid ’80s.

“I was definitely living a full life and very prominently in the public sphere, if you like, of electric guitarists. I was enjoying it. I had my fantastic Pete Cornish pedalboard; I had all the devices, and we were very into it at that point.

“Everybody was into their pedals and stuff and was very into making new sounds. Pete Cornish was the sort of leading guru in making these beautiful pedalboards where he’d take all the shells off the pedals and all the electronics and put them together to hook it all up into this pedalboard.

“That was a major thing for me because I’d gone from the early days with the Police with, like, one MXR Phase 90 taped to the floor with a bit of Scotch tape to finally getting the very deluxe and the most desirable pedalboard of the time.”

Was the Pete Cornish pedalboard integral to your sound palette for the sessions?

“Absolutely – it was really important. It contained a couple of fuzz boxes, an envelope filter, some sort of reverb, an MXR Phase 90, a Roland chorus and an Echoplex for tape delay. I used it for about five years. Because I always had an ear open to new sounds, and to what was possible, when things like the Roland guitar synth turned up, I was into it right away.”

What guitar and amps did you use on the albums you did with Fripp?

“The main guitar on both was a 1961 Fender Telecaster through a single-speaker Mesa/Boogie. I also used a Guitarman electric 12-string, a Martin D-28, a Dobro and a National steel-string.”

Part of your signature style is the use of add9 chords with no major or minor third, which brings a kind of neutrality to the music.

“And very purposely so. I mean, a lot of things influence one in life, and you can point it back to where it came from, as I often cite Béla Bartók. I had studied Bartók at college, so it was sort of already in my bag, where you could express chords without using the minor or major third, but instead use the added second or the ninth.

“And this became very much a part of the style I used in the Police. I’ve never played a barre chord in my life. I hate them. You don’t need more than two or three notes to express a chord.”

Did your passion for photography directly influence your improvisational approach to the guitar on I Advance Masked and Bewitched?

“By the time we recorded those records, I was way into photography; I was photographing all the time. It really started for me in 1979 when I was in New York and surrounded by photographers, and I started to get interested in it, but I think there’s an earlier seed to it. When I was about 15 or 16, I was an obsessive guitarist.

“I lived for the guitar, then I went to see all these art-house films in my hometown. These were all black-and-white films made by François Truffaut, Federico Fellini, Ingmar Bergman and so forth. All those great European art directors made a big emotional impact on me. So I think the emergence of this sort of lush photography – that’s where it really came from for me.

“I know at the time I was so knocked out by all these films that I thought I wanted to be a film director, but I was just too sort of caught up in the guitar. But later it sort of resurfaced for me in New York City, where I went and got a Nikon and started studying pictures and getting tips from other photographers. I got completely into it.”

At the time of the Fripp collaborations, instrumental guitar music was starting to become a commercially viable option for labels who were happy to provide big budgets for it.

“Yeah, and it was wide open as everybody was trying to push the envelope with guitar sounds and styles. You had players like Joe Satriani and Steve Vai who were more in the rock vein and really hitting that guitar style that became extremely popular.

“On the other end, you had players like Adrian Belew who was more radical and sort of experimental. And that sort of made my style quite apparent with the way I approached music with the Police.

“The records I made with Fripp were a pretty kind of advanced style of guitar playing at the time, in that they were drawing from all sorts of sources. In other words, it was abstracted instrumental music.”

Caleb Quaye left the music business in the ‘80s, after a career spent inheriting assignments slated for Jimmy Page and palling around with Pete Townshend and Elton John. “But I kept playing,” he tells Guitar World, “in a Christian band for my church and at evangelistic events.”

In the ‘70s Quaye was an ace whose licks enhanced tracks ranging from Harry Nilsson’s Coconut to Elton John’s Tiny Dancer. He was a full-time member of John’s band and also lent his talents to Lou Reed, Hall & Oates, Mick Jagger, Paul McCartney, The Beach Boys, Peter Criss.

It’s his days with Elton John that mean the most. “I was easy in the studio,” he recalls. “Elton might say, ‘I want it to sound like this.’ We all knew what ‘this’ meant – we could creatively turn on a dime.

“We understood his influences. Elton and I spent a lot of time in those early days listening to music, playing and spending all our money at record stores buying all kinds of import albums.”

Despite being out of the business for over 40 years, Quaye’s legacy looms large. One can’t help but wonder what it might have looked like if he’d stuck around – but he has no regrets.

“I’m proud of my contribution to music history. The whole journey in life has been grea,” he says..

“I’ve come to see that it was orchestrated by God. There’s a delusion in the industry, where people become successful and think it's all them. Real freedom comes when you discover it’s not all about you.

“It’s a blessing to bless others with music. I get emails that say, ‘Your work and playing meant a lot.’ It gives me peace. It’s wonderful to have been able to do that.”

What got you into studio work?

“A friend of mine, Billy Nicholls, was signed to Andrew Oldham’s Immediate label. Billy would come in with demos and I would engineer for them. When Billy recorded his first album at Olympic Studios, he wanted me to play on it because I’d helped with his demos.

“Back then everything was union musicians; there was a contractor in the studio, David Katz, and his brother, Charlie. Charlie would be the booker for the strings, and David would book the rhythm section.

“I was there on a rhythm section date; I was maybe 16. After we finished, David said, ‘Caleb, I like what you’re doing. I’ve got all this work lined up for Jimmy Page, but he doesn’t want to do it anymore.’ Jimmy was a top studio guy, but he’d had a meltdown, got fed up and joined the Yardbirds.

“David said, ‘Would you like to do it?’ I said, ‘Yes, sir – I would love to.’ He said, ‘First, I need you to join the Musicians’ Union.’ I ran down the street to the MU office and signed on. All the work lined up for Jimmy Page went to me.”

Was it challenging to measure up to Jimmy’s sound and style?

“I was free to do it as I would do it. Nobody ever said, ‘We need you to play like Jimmy.’ Like most sessions, if there was something specific in the arrangement I’d play it. But outside of that, I was free to do it as I wanted.”

One of your early credits is with Lou Reed on his debut record, featuring Steve Howe. What was that like?

“The recording was spread out over a few days. They used different guitar players, but Steve and I weren't in the same room at the same time. This would have been ’72; I remember using my ’64 Fender Strat going through my Fender Deluxe.”

Around the same time you worked closely with Pete Townshend on a song called Forever’s No Time at All, where you played bass, drums and guitar.

“That was great fun. I remember it well to this day – it was with Billy Nicholls, who wrote the song. We cut the track with Billy on acoustic and doing a guide vocal. Then I played drums and added bass and electric. I used my Fender Strat going through the Fender Deluxe.

“The bass was one of Pete’s; it might have been a Gibson EB-0. He had it hanging on the wall in the studio. Pete engineered the session, and he was having a field day! He loved engineering and he was like a scientist. We had a great time.”

Did Pete give much guidance?

“He just let me do what I do. There was an interview with Pete back in those days that's recently been unearthed. He talked about the session and graciously said he thought I was a genius!”

Why do you think Pete liked your playing so much?

“It was the jazz influence. I remember taking a tea break; we went upstairs into the kitchen area, and there was a guitar up there. I was noodling around, and Pete was standing watching me. He said, ‘Wow – I wish I could play like you.’ I was thinking, ‘I wish I could come up with the three chords you take to the bank!’”

One of your most memorable credits is Coconut from Harry Nilsson’s Nilsson Schmilsson. How did you end up in that session?

“It was just crazy. That was me with Nilsson and Richard Perry. Unfortunately, they were out of their minds on cocaine and LSD. That tune is made up of one chord – C7. I was playing my trusty Gibson J-45, and they kept stopping and starting.

“It got really frustrating – it took 16 hours to record! Finally, they got what they needed, with a whole bunch of editing. That was not one of my highlights.

“But when the album came out, Rolling Stone and the Melody Maker said, ‘Oh, this is a work of genius!’ I’m reading these reviews, going, ‘No – you guys need to talk to me!’ It was absolutely unbelievable.”

What did your rig look like when you recorded Madman Across the Water with Elton John?

“That was still my Strat. I would have used that on Tiny Dancer, Levon and those songs. Those recordings were a lot of fun to do.”

How did you and Davey Johnstone divide up the guitar-related labor?

“A big factor was that we were friends in those days. There was relational chemistry, because we all grew up listening to the same music – the British Invasion and the stuff from the West Coast like the Beach Boys. We’d have listening parties and soak up all that music from Motown to Memphis.”

You were with Elton from the start. Did you think he would eventually blow up?

“No, we didn’t. We knew we were doing something that was quality; knew it was different, and that we could be on to something. Early on, the word went out, ‘You need to get down to the studio and hear what they’re doing with this guy, Elton John.’

“Different musicians would stop by and listen and say, ‘This is great!’ It was a process – and it eventually came to fruition.”

Why did you and most of Elton’s band leave at the height of his fame to work with Hall & Oates?

“Elton was huge by then; he was dealing with his own issues and had a bit of a meltdown. He put the brakes on everything and needed a rest. We were doing a lot of touring, all stadium stuff. He put the brakes on just before the last concert at Madison Square Garden.

“Kenny Passarelli had gotten to know Hall & Oates, who had come to see us, probably at Madison Square Garden. Kenny pitched it to us that they’d like to work with Elton’s very tight rhythm section. So, Roger Pope, Kenny and I auditioned for their new band, and that’s how it happened.”

That led to you working with Robert Fripp on Daryl Hall’s debut solo record, Sacred Songs, in 1980.

“Our styles were so totally different, so polar opposite, that it actually worked! Robert used to say to me, ‘I can’t play blues.’ I’d play blues left and right and he’d say, ‘I can’t do that; I just do this.’ Robert has incredible technique, but he’s not a pocket player. He doesn’t come from that, the blues thing – he has a more scientific approach.”

Were you still using your Strat and Fender Deluxe?

“It was my Epiphone Riviera and a Mesa Boogie Mark I by then. The Epiphone was a cool guitar to play, with great action. I developed a fascination with humbucking pickups, and that guitar was fatter on the lower end.”

Why did you switch to Mesa Boogie?

“You could get sounds dialed in nicely. I had the second batch of Mesa Boogies ever made – the first batch went to Carlos Santana. I got mine while I was on tour with Elton in 1975, and I took them with me when I joined Hall & Oates.”

One of your final credits came on Peter Criss’s third solo record, Let Me Rock You. How was that?

“I’d say there was a certain fun aspect to it. I knew the guys playing on it, and the producer, Vini Poncia, knew a friend of mine. That’s how I ended up on the record. I was never a Kiss fan; it was just another session. But it was fun to do and went smoothly.

“Peter was okay. I wouldn’t consider him a really great drummer, like some of the guys that I know. He’d already left Kiss and was going through a transition, so he was pretty mellow. He didn’t come in with any big rock star attitude. I didn’t even recognize him because Kiss was always painted up on stage!”

Why did you leave the music business in the mid 80s?

“It’s very simple: I became a Christian.”

The two things couldn’t coexist?

“Not the way things were. Through becoming a Christian, I got set free from drugs and everything. It’s a whole different worldview and mindset. It gave me the peace I was looking for. It sorted out the personal baggage I’d carried since childhood. The greatest thing I’ve ever done is say ‘yes’ to Jesus.”

• Follow Caleb Quaye on Instagram and X.

Steve Vai and Adrian Belew have finally kicked off one of 2024’s most anticipated live acts with the opening night of the Beat tour.

The pair formed Beat – a supergroup whose name was coined by Robert Fripp – for a tour that will see them play King Crimson’s trilogy of 1980s albums: Discipline, Beat, and Three of a Perfect Pair.

They’ve been joined by King Crimson alumni Tony Levin on bass and Tool drummer Danny Carey for the shows. Vai says he has been working “feverishly” to be stage-ready over the past five months.

The 65-date tour began in San Jose last Thursday (September 12), with the band delivering a 19-song show across two sets.

“The first show of a tour can be like a gauntlet,” Vai reflected on social media afterward. “You can rehearse until you're blue in the face, but once you hit the stage the lights go out and there’s a live audience eager to be entertained, all bets are off as to what it’s like in rehearsal. But the band delivered well and we were all relieved to get through a good first show.

“I’ve been fronting my band for the last 35 years and I discovered a very comfortable place on the Beat stage with master of ceremonies, Brother Adrian Belew at the helm. It is so enjoyable to play this historical music for such a passionate fan base. I discovered the sincere devotion of the audience for this music and the whole band felt their firm support.”

Indeed, a big part of Vai’s prep for the shows focussed on finding that balance between playing like himself and playing like Robert Fripp, who he is essentially replacing.

Speaking to Guitar World, Adrian Belew, who spent just shy of two decades as the band’s co-guitarist alongside Fripp, had previously theorized about how the two guitar partnerships would compare.

“It really came to the point where Robert and I had separated into our own worlds,” he said. ”But I always said the perfect analogy was like two sides of the same coin. Because Robert has his approach, and I had my approach.

“I suspect Steve and I will end up being the same as Robert and me – a different version of it, of course, but two sides of the same coin.”

Footage from the opening night shows the band working through Man With An Open Heart, a song rich with chiming-yet-biting clean guitars, driven by Belew. But when it comes to the leads, there's a distinctly Vai-like flavor to the way they are delivered, complete with some subtle whammy bar wavers.

That trend continues on Heartbeat, with some overdriven volume swells and swish cleans coming from Vai's Ibanez signature guitar. It feels like a very natural marriage between the Fripp and Vai styles – something that will surely excite fans of both world-class players.

Of course, this is Steve Vai, who can make even the most finger-breaking shred look as simple as brushing your teeth. But in the five months leading up to the show, Vai wrestled with his abilities and his physical limitations in the wake of undergoing shoulder surgery.

That surgery meant wielding his ridiculous Hydra guitar became a challenge. It also meant living up to Fripp's endurance and “the absolute relentlessness of what he does” made Vai's task all the more tricky.

“I am looking so forward to the roll out of this tour and being on stage with such seasoned and immensely talented bandmates,” Vai’s post concludes. “Not to mention they are all outstanding people that I enjoy being with. Thanks so sincerely to our San Jose audience for making this first show such an enjoyable experience.”

Head to Beat for details regarding the rest of the tour.

Andy Summers is best known as The Police's guitarist. However, his résumé goes beyond that and includes a very intriguing two-album collaboration with King Crimson's Robert Fripp. He recently talked about his longstanding relationship with Fripp and how the two recorded enough material back in the '80s to release a brand-new record in 2024.

“Well, Fripp and I, that situation was not normal. We both came from the same town in England, and he was this other guy that I'd heard about, but I'd never met him. I don't think I did… Maybe I met him once in the town I came from in England. There are a few bands, rockers, and young kids with guitars who want to be guitar players” he tells Ultimate Guitar.

“The weird thing was I played in this hotel. I was like 16 years old, and I got a gig and became a professional musician at 16 in this hotel group, until they threw me out for chasing the girls there, and Fripp took over from me. It was a weird kind of karma.

“He became the next guitar player and he was a very different player, and I can't remember much else in between, except many years later, he helped me out. He got me a gig before I was in The Police.”

Fast-forward to Police fame, and Summers felt he needed to try something else outside the band’s repertoire.

“My interest in music obviously was urging me to try other forms and other ways of playing. Then I had this idea of trying to do a guitar duet with Robert, particularly because we had this local tie-up in our lives from the same town. He was famous, I was famous, there'd probably be an interest in it.”

He continues, “So we got together in New York. Actually, I remember we got together in someone's apartment in the Village and were jamming, trying to see what we could come up with and what the music would be. I could do what I could do, and Robert has got his particular style too, that sort of polyrhythmic way of playing the guitar.”

“And then we went back to our hometown in England. There was a little recording studio, which was also run by a guy that we grew up with. It was called Arny's Shack, a peculiar little recording studio. He was a sort of eccentric. He smoked a pipe while he recorded. We got there, and then we just started working things out.”

While the pair released two albums, 1982's I Advance Masked and 1984's Bewitched, they had enough material for a third installment. These tapes were recently unearthed after someone who knows both Fripp and Summers encouraged the Police guitarist to dig into his archives.

“He was very agitated about it — he works with Robert. I said, ‘Yeah, well, I've got them, but they're all in storage.’ All the two-inch tapes, we put them away. He said, ‘I'd really like to listen to those. Can you get them?’ So we kind of had to go through the motions but eventually, the tapes got out of the storage. They got sent and he got them in England. He reduced them down to whatever. And there's about 12 other tracks.”

Summers admits he was “kind of knocked out” when he heard the tracks, which ultimately led to the decision to release the third installment.

“I went, ‘God, why didn't we do this? Why was I throwing those out?’ Because I was essentially the producer. But listening to some of these songs all these years later, I thought I'd listen to them and think, ‘Oh, my god, well, I see why. They were no good. They're terrible. That's why we didn't use them.’

“But they weren't. They're all really much like the other tracks that we actually put out. And my god, it's a good album.”

A release date for the new/old material has yet to be announced.

Since his days alongside Frank Zappa, David Bowie and Robert Fripp, Adrian Belew has refused to remain static. Now, at 74, the Kentucky-born Strato-slinger is at it again, this time with his latest and entirely mega project, Beat.

You’ll have heard the news, which Fripp leaked a few weeks before the band formally announced themselves in April. And you’ll be preparing for wild prog rock dreams to come true when Belew hits the stage with Steve Vai, Tony Levin and Danny Carey to celebrate King Crimson’s well-loved ‘80s albums Discipline (1981), Beat (1982) and Three of a Perfect Pair (1984).

Though Fripp declined an invitation to participate, Belew was glad to receive his blessing, because he holds his ex bandmate in the highest esteem.

“It was a great pairing,” Belew says. “We could interlock our styles of guitar playing – but we could also go completely apart from each other. It was wonderful; I knew what he was going to play and vice versa. We did three world tours; and strangely, those records are now coming back into people’s minds again. I think they’re as fresh as ever.”

Taking on King Crimson music without Fripp is challenging, but Belew believes he and Vai are up for it. “The internet is already full of comments and thoughts, so it’s a lot of pressure. I think we’ll do great. Steve and I will have to do the same thing that Robert and I did – Steve and I are going to be guitar partners. I’m absolutely certain he can do it.”

“He’s on tour now with Joe Satriani. I texted him yesterday and I said, ‘I’m thinking about adding these two songs. Did you happen to bring that book of transcriptions?’ And he said, ‘It’s sitting right here beside me on the bus.’ We’ll dedicate ourselves to trying to bring this music from where it once was to where we are now.”

You, along with several other alumni, have been celebrating the music of David Bowie lately. 

“I sometimes join the large expedition, where they put a new band together. I’ve had a lot of chances to go back through that era and listen through it again. What happened to me from ’77 through about ’82, with Frank Zappa straight into Bowie straight into Talking Heads straight into King Crimson, I was traveling at light speed!”

You came in during a pretty experimental period alongside the D.A.M. Trio. What was that like?

“It’s hard to remember because so many things happened so fast. It was like I was halfway dreaming, halfway awake; I just could’t focus – like, ‘This is what’s happening here. Not two years ago, I was making $75 a night, if I made that much, playing in bars. And now here I am at Madison Square Garden with David Bowie!’

“I was lucky to fall into that era of his music; the Brian Eno trilogy, as they call it. They were stretching things and trying a lot of new things, and I seemed a good fit for that. They used to laugh at me, saying: ‘You’re not supposed to be able to play that!’”

It must have been a trip going from working with Bowie after someone like Frank Zappa.

“Frank’s work, for me, was life lessons – how to be in the music business, be a professional touring musician and travel around the world. Maybe even, you know, make records or films; we did both of those.

“It was how to how to run your own business – so many things that weren’t really related to the notes and the sound. But of course, learning five hours of Frank Zappa material was a 24/7 job for me the whole time!

“I was catching up because I was the only one in the band who didn't read music. Frank wanted you to play his music correctly and consistently. He wasn’t really there for you to say, ‘Hey, I’d like to try this. How about that?’

“That was not Frank’s way. He had everything the way he wanted, and he needed people to play it right, be on time, and not come in half-drunk or any of those stupid things.”

How did working with Zappa prepare you for what was to come with Bowie?

“It was a school and I graduated from it. Before that point no one had really shown me anything – not even how to play guitar. I worked things out myself. To have someone of Frank’s stature, his genius, telling me what to do and showing me the ropes, was more important than even being in the band. It was incredible tutoring.”

“David wanted someone to just go wild on guitar. That’s what he needed; Frank didn’t need that from me. He needed me to sing a lot and play his parts. David needed me to grow wings and fly away. And he encouraged that all the time.

“You can see in some of the videos that, while I’m taking a solo, David’s standing with his arms crossed and beaming like a Cheshire cat because he just loves it. He loved to hear people go wild like that.

“And it fit in with what he was doing: David’s music was always strangely mainstream and yet really off-the-wall, especially during that period.”

I imagine your previous experience of working things out on your own lent itself to going off the wall with him. 

“Absolutely. I was ready to go. I didn’t have a lot of titles or sounds to choose from, but I was able to combine them in different ways with some of the hand techniques I was using, like bending the neck and crazy things like that.

“It all came across as kind of a new picture; I don’t think anyone had heard or seen that. It was another thing David loved – he wanted somebody that could kind of match his stage thing, not just another player standing up there playing their instrument.”

Did your gear change much as you transitioned from Zappa to Bowie?

“Oh, yeah – everything changed. When I was with Frank, I had just come from nowhere; I had no equipment to speak of. I auditioned for Frank through a little Pignose [battery-powered] amp. But by the time I got to David, I had discovered a the Roland Jazz Chorus [JC-120], and that became my amp.

“That really changed things. It was a completely different way of playing guitar. Strangely, it’s solid-state, very clean, and Japanese-sounding. But there were other things you could do – you could warm it up and pair it with some of the Electro-Harmonix pedals.

“One day I realized that if I walked over in front of the Roland Jazz Chorus, a Stereo Chorus amp, I could suddenly point the guitar at the front of the amp and move it around, and it would make this incredible oscillating sound.

“I could take the chorus setting and move it back and forth between that and vibrato and so forth. It’s a sound you cannot possibly get – no pedal in the world will make it. It’s a natural occurrence between two speakers being in chorus together. I used that a lot of early records.”

How did you take the rig you used with Bowie and push it forward with King Crimson?

“The main thing that changed from that first period from David to Talking Heads to King Crimson was that I went to Japan. I met the people at Roland and they said, ‘We have a new thing – a guitar synthesizer.’ I’d been dying to have something akin to what keyboard players could do for 10 years, and they gave me one.”

You were one of the earliest adopters of the guitar synth, right?

“I’m not certain but I’m pretty sure I had the first one in New York, as they weren’t available there yet. When I joined King Crimson, Robert had a Roland JC-120 and also the synthesizer; it was actually the second one they made, but it was the first one that anyone ever used.

“The first one has been a bit too much – it was like a big Farfisa organ. The second one is the blue one, the GR-300. So much of the King Crimson sound of the ‘80s came from that one device.

“It was a simple instrument: you could only do maybe five or six things with it, and you had to manually tune all the different oscillators. You couldn’t save a sound! It was the era before things got much more digitized.”

You’re primarily known as a Strat guy, so the guitar synth must have been a shock to the system.

“Even if you just put it with the guitar, you had a very unusual sound. The guitar didn’t sound like a normal guitar and that really changed things. So the next thing I did in that period was my first solo record, Lone Rhino, using all the things I had coming from David, Talking Heads and King Crimson.”

What was that setup like?

“The Strat and maybe four, five or six little pedals. But for Twang Bar King, the second solo record, I started using the guitar synth. I had Fender build me a Mustang with all the accoutrements from the guitar synthesizer.

“You had all kinds of things you could operate from the guitar, and you had to have a special pickup. Once that got designed, I started using what became known as the ‘Twang Bar King guitar’ because I made that record with it. I used that in King Crimson from there on.”

You’d matched wits with Zappa, Bowie, Eno and David Byrne – a lot of interesting characters. What was it like working alongside Fripp?

“The first thing with Robert was that he’d already designed the kind of guitar playing he favored – fast picking; very, very precise. He needed a second guitar player to play it. It required two people playing the same thing, offsetting from each other. Frame by Frame is a great example of it.

“Robert and I sat down for hours every day; I had to get up to speed with being able to play like him. After we got to a certain point, and I was getting good enough to do it – because it wasn’t my style at all, and I’m not the best picker in the world – and Robert was feeling good about it, I started trying to write songs with it.

“Then it was, ‘Okay, get back to your Stratocaster and start making your sounds like an elephant!’ It really came to the point where Robert and I had separated into our own worlds. I always said it was two sides of the same coin: Robert has his approach, and I had my approach of making those sounds, noises, feedback, and bird calls.”

Fripp named the Beat project – is that right?

“Yes – in brief, I’d been working on the idea of putting together a band to do those three records – Discipline, Beat, and Three of a Perfect Pair – the ‘80s trilogy. I talked to Robert in 2019 and he declined being any part of it. But he said, ‘If you want to celebrate King Crimson and you want to drive it, go ahead. I will give you my blessing.’”

How did Steve Vai become involved?

“We started thinking, ‘Well, who could possibly be in the band?’ The big part would be, ‘Who would step into Robert’s role?’ The only person I could think of was Steve. I heard him say in an interview that he had a lot of affection and admiration for Robert.

“So I thought, ‘Well, maybe there’s a chance – you never know.’ I called him, and lo and behold, he was so excited; I couldn’t believe it. So we started talking… and then, of course, COVID hit. That added another two and a half years onto the waiting process.

“I wasn’t sure Steve would ever be able to do it because, after COVID, he had 18 months of touring commitments that he’d previously booked. We had to keep waiting. By the time we thought, ‘Okay, let’s call Steve now,’ he was ready to do it; he thought he could fit it into his busy schedule.”

Is that when you approached Tony Levin and Danny Carey?

“Yes. Tony had been in King Crimson, but I didn't think we were ever going to get him. But his schedule opened and he was delighted to do it – he said, ‘It would be a big challenge!’ But he accepts that kind of thing. He thrives on it.

“I thought, ‘Wow, we are one person away from having the kind of elite musicians that could do this.’ I didn’t want to have a band that didn’t do it as well as it could possibly be done. You had to have people of that caliber. And then Danny Carey came into the picture. 

“I’ve known Danny for many years; he’s always talked so much about Bill Bruford and those three records. He said that when he first started drumming, those were the things he listened to and was inspired by.

“So I knew he was a huge fan of that music. The same thing happened – the Tool tour was about to end and they were going into writing mode and didn’t know how long that would take. So yes, Danny wanted to go off for a few months with us.”

How will you and Steve approach the gig?

“We got together in L.A. after we had all that stuff in place. He and I sat down in his studio full of gorgeous stuff – like 400 guitars – and we sat there for a whole day ticking through. We listened to all the songs I had decided we should do; although I’m still considering things. I’m going to have that done in a few days.

“We had a book with all the material transcribed for guitar – my parts and Robert’s, except my solos. They say in the book that there’s no way they can tell you how to play my solos. And that’s true because I can’t either!

“I think it really relieved Steve a lot because he wants to make sure that what we do is honorable to the originals. Not that we have to play them exactly the same, and not that we're going to be a cover band. We certainly will not be over time; I believe we will make it our own. 

“But there are many well-defined elements in King Crimson’s music that have to be there. Steve was concerned about those things, and after we went through it, and I told him the things I thought we could branch out from, he felt a lot more relieved.”

What’s the key to locking in with Steve, seeing as you’re both going to need a lot of space?

“We don’t know – we have yet to play a note! I suspect Steve and I will end up being the same as Robert and me. A different version of it, of course, but two sides of the same coin.

“I’m anxious to hear what he’ll come up with – which won’t be just him playing Robert’s parts. But Robert’s parts are fantastic, and they will need to be there. Once we’ve had some rehearsals, I’ll tell you how it’s going. Until then, I’m guessing.”

• Beat commence their tour on September 12. See Beat Tour for full dates.

Robert Fripp and Toyah Willcox have returned to the '90s for the latest madcap installment of their Sunday Lunch YouTube series via an “elderly edition” of Blink 182's Dammit (often subtitled Growing Up).

The King Crimson man and his pop star wife have continued their weekly dose of musical insanity, but this cover notably marks the first time Fripp has played electric guitar in one of the videos for a few weeks, after some rather unusual (even for them) offerings. 

Following a more literal take on Metallica's Master of Puppets and a Led Zeppelin mashup played in a prison cell with a whip (just a normal day in the Fripp/Toyah household), the pair have returned to their usual format, with Fripp’s Fernandes goldtop making its return. 

“It's time for a BRAND NEW Sunday Lunch, and this BLINK 182 classic is a belter!” the pair write on YouTube.

Playing with a chorus-wavered clean tone, Fripp gets off to a traditionally false start as, off-screen, he’s heard shouting, “1, 2, 3, 4… bollocks,” as he stumbles over the track’s bouncy opening lines. 

Their normal-yet-bonkers service quickly resumes as Fripp stabs at the song's classic pop-punk motif. Yet, there’s still something in the pick attack that sounds resolutely Fripp.

Even though he takes a back seat for Toyah’s high-energy performance for most of the short clip, he still certainly leaves a memorable mark on a teenage anthem that’s all about growing up… not that it’s a topic the pair know much about. 

Fripp has previously spoken to Guitar World at length about his Sunday Lunch covers and the lengths he goes to to learn the tracks.

“When we engage with any of the music on Sunday Lunch, it is always with respect,” he explained. “We’re not taking the piss, playing silly rock riffs… I work hard to honor the original player or players on the famous recordings.”

As well as causing chaos in his kitchen, Fripp has recently been helping Steve Vai prepare for his tour with the new Beat supergroup, which is set to perform King Crimson's '80s material this fall.

Having received Fripp’s blessing, Vai later discussed the most difficult part of emulating Fripp’s playing. His new Beat bandmate, Adrian Belew, has also ruminated on what his guitar partnership with Vai will be like.

In related news, Fripp recently recalled the time he met Jimi Hendrix, who apparently called King Crimson “the best band in the world” after seeing the band in ‘69. 

Steve Vai has singled out channeling Robert Fripp’s “relentlessness” and unique picking style as some of the biggest challenges as he prepares to play the King Crimson legend's material on tour later this year. 

He’s also revealed he’s working with Roland to make three special guitars for the upcoming shows. 

Vai has teamed up with King Crimson alumni Adrian Belew and Tony Levin, and Tool drummer Danny Carey for the Beat supergroup. The band will be playing tracks from King Crimson’s trio of ‘80s albums, Discipline, Beat, and Three Of A Perfect during their US tour in the fall. 

The band had previously received Fripp’s blessing, who said Vai was the only guitarist “who could play my parts”. Now, Vai has opened up on the parts he’s finding the most difficult to nail.  

Guesting on the Make Weird Music podcast, Vai said: “There are songs that the particular picking technique makes it a little challenging. 

“Like, Frame By Frame – I mean, back before the shoulder surgery and everything, that would have been no problem at all. It's the endurance, it's the absolute relentlessness of what he does that makes it so difficult. Because it's constant and it's intense. And it's fantastic.” 

Having called Fripp a “historical genius”, Vai revealed he has begun developing a hybrid picking technique that's halfway between Fripp’s relentless attack and his own style.  

“My original style was not very far off, but it went through a vast change when I joined Alcatrazz,” he explains. “I used to pick over the neck for all that Zappa stuff, but the tone wasn't very good. 

“His style is so specific and refined, it's not something I could just jump into,” Vai continues. “It's a study. I've still got a few months. It's coming along. Robert's been extremely helpful, we've been in contact a lot.”

Having also received help from Belew, who assured Vai he had permission to change things up a bit, he’s said that Elephant Talk is one song that will be Vai-ified. 

Vai goes on: “There are a couple of things that are a little difficult. Elephant Talk is a peculiar kind of thing. Plus, this isn't a cover band, we're reinterpreting some things. My style and sound will flow into it, because it will be coming out of me. 

“I'm trying my absolute best to respect every note that Robert wrote, it's just how I perform it might be a little different.”

Another song in Vai’s crosshairs is Thela Hun Ginjeet. 

“I want to add a little Vai into it,” he reveals. “Robert said, ‘I wanna see Steve Vai. If I was sitting in the audience, I'd wanna see Steve Vai go crazy.’ I'm doing it more rhythmically and leaving out one note – I could get it in there but it's awkward. I like it because it's more me.”  

When asked about the gear he’ll be using for the tour, the guitarist revealed he is “having three guitars built for this tour”, in collaboration with Roland. 

“They're gonna have the Roland GM-800 [guitar synth] built into them,” Vai continues. “I'm working with Roland and I sent them the tracks and pinpointed certain parts so we can start with a facsimile of Robert’s sound. 

“But I don't want to do everything the way he did it. I want to see if there's different ways of making those sounds with new technology that work on a contemporary guitar. All the stuff they used is discontinued. 

“I'm very optimistic. I've fooled around with synth guitars, but I just want simplicity and quality. And I can't wait to start building these patches.” 

Beat's maiden tour kicks off September 12 in San Jose and runs through to November 8, when it wraps in Las Vegas.  

For tickets and more info, visit the band's website.

In a recent interview on Rob Squad and the Creators, King Crimson's Robert Fripp has recounted the band's early years – including a memorable encounter with Jimi Hendrix.

Fripp allegedly met Hendrix in 1969 at London's Revolution's Club, a meeting he frequently refers to as “one of the best calling cards any working musician is ever likely to be able to present.”

“This is the hand shaken by the hand of Jimi Hendrix,” he said. “He came to see the band and... was apparently upstairs saying, this is the best band in the world. And he came down to see us, and he came up to me and said, ‘Shake my left hand, man, it's closer to my heart.'”

When talking about the 1981 King Crimson album Discipline, Fripp said that “the band met and wrote all the material in three weeks. We took it on the road in Europe for three weeks, and then we recorded it in three weeks.”

In addition, he said that he plays around “nine notes per second in the fast parts” of the track Frame by Frame. His wife, the singer and actress Toyah Willcox was also part of the interview and alluded to Fripp's dedication to his craft:

“As someone who has listened to Robert play for 38 years within our house, the intensity of the fingers and the speed of the fingers and sometimes Robert's playing 11 notes a second. He practices for four hours a day. Sometimes it can be hell. Other times, it's an absolute inspiration because he can do it for a long time.”

Robert Fripp and Toyah Willcox have a busy festival season performing under the moniker Toyah & Robert. They'll be playing the Avalon Stage at this year's Glastonbury and will also perform at the Isle of Wight Festival. This will be followed by a tour in December, which kicks off at Queens Hall in Edinburgh on December 16.

The pair went viral over the pandemic with their weekly Sunday Lunch video series. Fripp spoke to Guitar World last year, revealing how he ended up covering – and loving – the likes of Megadeth, Metallica and Slipknot.

Meanwhile, new King Crimson supergroup Beat – which counts Adrian Belew and Steve Vai among its lineup – will be touring the prog icons' '80s material later this year.

The term ‘supergroup’ is often overused – but in the case of Beat, that moniker can be used with full confidence.

Featuring Adrian Belew, Tony Levin, Steve Vai, and Tool’s Danny Carey, the band has been assembled with Robert Fripp’s blessing to perform King Crimson’s ‘80s trilogy of albums: Discipline (1981), Beat (1982), and Three of a Perfect Pair (1984).

In an upcoming interview with Guitar World, Belew sat down to dish out the project’s details – and tease what fans can expect from his new guitar partnership with Vai ahead of Beat's extensive US tour.

“I had been working on the idea of putting together a band to do the '80s trilogy,” he explains of Beat's origins. “I talked to Robert in 2019. He declined being any part of it, but he said to me, 'If you want to celebrate King Crimson, and you want to drive it, go ahead. I will give you my blessing.'” 

This left Belew scratching his head for a suitable electric guitar stand-in – and only one name came to mind. 

He continues, “We started thinking, 'Well, who could possibly be in the band?...Who would step into Robert's role?' The only person I could think of was Steve Vai.

“I heard Steve Vai say in an interview that he had a lot of affection for Robert Fripp's playing, especially the '80s Crimson. So, I thought, 'Well, maybe there's a chance.' Lo and behold, he was so excited; I couldn't believe it.”

After Vai was locked in (and COVID had delayed the project by three years), Belew turned to fellow King Crimson alumni Tony Levin, and Tool's Danny Carey, to complete the lineup.

With the band formed, there was just the tricky part of piecing the music together. For Vai and Belew, that meant developing a guitar-playing relationship that could live up to Fripp/Belew double-act.

To do that, the two Beat bandmates hunkered down and Vai's LA studio and began the process of going through the King Crimson catalog.

“Steve and I got together in LA, and I went to his studio full of gorgeous stuff, like 400 guitars, and we sat there for a whole day ticking through,” Belew recalls. “We listened to all the songs I had decided we should do, which was a partial setlist.

“We went one by one through them, saying, 'Okay, here's what you can hear, here's what Robert's doing there, here's what I'm doing here.' We also had a book with all that material transcribed for guitar, my parts, and Robert's, except my solos.”

As for what fans can expect from the Vai/Belew partnership, the guitarist acknowledged it will be different from the relationship he shared with Fripp, but asserted there will be some certain sonic similarities.

“It really came to the point where Robert and I had separated into our own worlds,” he concludes. ”But I always said the perfect analogy was like two sides of the same coin. Because Robert has his approach, and I had my approach.

“I suspect Steve and I will end up being the same as Robert and me – a different version of it, of course, but two sides of the same coin. 

“Steve wants to make sure that what we do is honorable to the originals,” Belew expands. “Not that we have to play them exactly the same and not that we're going to be a cover band, I believe we will make it our own.”

Keep an eye on GuitarWorld.com to catch the full interview with Adrian Belew.

Because Steve Vai clearly doesn’t have enough projects to keep his fretboard-bothering fingers busy, he’s joined a new King Crimson-honoring supergroup, Beat. 

It sees him join forces with King Crimson alumni Adrian Belew and Tony Levin, and Tool’s rhythmic tour de force Danny Carey. With the blessing of Robert Fripp, the band will perform tracks from King Crimson’s trio of ‘80s LPs, Discipline, Beat, and Three Of A Perfect Pair.

Writing on Facebook, the King Crimson guitarist detailed the background to the band’s formation, saying: “This is the project that Adrian Belew called me about last Autumn, a project which I support and fully encourage, and discussed with Steve Vai recently... Even, I suggested the name.”

In a separate statement, Fripp added, “Steve Vai asked me what I thought when Adrian Belew told me Steve would be the guitarist. My reply: Steve Vai is the only guitarist who could play my parts.”

Via a third Facebook post, Fripp hyped the band, revealing he is excited by the prospect of the four distinguished musicians re-energizing Crimson’s music. 

“This is music to be played, engaged, re-imagined, heard anew, chewed up and digested,” he said. “I'm totally psyched for this.”

Details of Beat’s plans are scarce, save for one confirmed show at Humphrey’s Concerts By The Bay in San Diego on 17 September.

The show adds to Vai’s tireless 2024 touring schedule, which started off with the reunion of the classic G3 line-up and also includes a co-headline tour with Joe Satriani in the US.  

It seems unlikely that Beat will be just a one-show-wonder, so keep your eyes on these pages for further details in the future. 

Beat may have plenty in the pipeline, but King Crimson’s future is a somewhat clouded. Speaking to Guitar World previously, Fripp has admitted that it’s “hard to say” what the future holds for the progressive rock giants.

In other news, another former King Crimson man, Trey Gunn, recently championed Fripp’s impact on his guitar playing. He says he “helped create almost a new genre” with each King Crimson song the pair worked on.

Dave Matthews has explained how King Crimson and Robert Fripp’s “spread out” fingering techniques have inspired his music during an interview with Howard Stern.

Asked about his love for the hugely innovative British prog band, Matthews beams: “They just go out of their minds!”

“He would probably look at my guitar playing and think, ‘You're a moron,’ but he has this tuning where he plays in a really formal way [with his hands spread out],” he adds, with an acoustic guitar to hand.

“Like with the song, Warehouse, it makes a sound, and you can make these patterns up and just sort of repeat the patterns. There's probably an easier way to play it [where you're less spread out across the fretboard] but it's satisfying.”

Alongside 1991 hit Warehouse, he also cites how Satellite, released four years later, came after he wanted to replicate Fripp’s unique technique.

“I was just trying to imitate him, and I was also ignorant. So it was a combination of those two things. I was trying to play what he was playing by looking rather than listening, like ‘What is he doing?’ So I tried and it didn't sound anything like what he was doing, but it was nice.”

The King Crimson founder, who recently completed a UK run of his Sunday Lunch covers with his wife Toyah, is credited with developing new standard tuning. The tuning (C2-G2-D3-A3-E4-G4), places each string at perfect intervals, a method of tuning used for violins, cellos and mandolins. It prompted the guitarist to relearn the King Crimson back catalog.

Discussing his Sunday Lunch endeavours in an interview with Guitar World, Fripp was clear to underline that the covers he creates with his wife are more than just wacky entertainment. 

“We’re not taking the piss, playing silly rock riffs," he said. “I work hard to honor the original players.

“Our kitchen performances have been described as ramshackle, which I think is very fair and generous! It’s very clear that we don’t put too much time into, shall we say, high-definition performances.

“The key to it is, ‘Are we having a good time?’ And I’ve noticed in retrospect that the absurdity is rampant... From time to time, we forget to take the washing down. I might look at a video after and see laundry hanging up or a tea towel drying, all manner of things!”

The Dave Matthews Band released their 10th studio album, Walk Around The Moon in May 2023. Two months later, Matthews joined John Mayer's Dead & Company on stage, covering All Along the Watchtower, Not Fade Away, Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door and The Weight. 

Matthews and co will play five dates across the US and Mexico in February and March before embarking on a European run in April.

For more information, head to DaveMatthews.com.

Robert Fripp is certainly a man of many talents. As the founding and only consistent member of King Crimson, he was responsible for pioneering progressive rock in the late ’60s, with debut album In the Court of the Crimson King still a benchmark for experimental and transcendental noise.

That sense of searching – aggregating various elements of folk, classical and jazz through his own kaleidoscopic lens – continued through the ’70s on avant-garde masterpieces like In the Wake of Poseidon, Starless and Bible Black, Larks' Tongues in Aspic and Red. 

When the band reunited at the beginning of the ’80s with Adrian Belew and Tony Levin in tow, they continued to experiment in yet more surprising ways, yielding albums like Discipline and Beat. Since then, with only one album in the ’90s and two in the ’00s, they’ve been more active as a live band than in the studio, playing their final show at the time of writing on December 8 2021 at Tokyo’s Orchard Hall. 

That’s not to say the now 77-year-old guitarist has retreated into retirement, however. Far from it, in fact, given the notoriety of his Sunday Lunch video series reinterpreting famous tracks by other artists with his wife, the singer/actress Toyah Willcox. So how did the man best known for songs like 21st Century Schizoid Man, Starless and Indiscipline end up covering Slipknot, Rammstein and Megadeth, and what exactly has he learned along the way?

“It all happened over lockdown,” he says with a big smile on his face, calling via video link from his home study in the town of Pershore, located in the English West Midlands. “My wife was concerned I was going to vegetate. Here was a little 75 year-old man being very quiet. I was seizing the opportunity for reflection – reading and writing. I was not about to die of uselessness. She would see me sat there looking very still and think ‘Dear Frippy, we need to get you out doing something!’ 

“So it all began with her taking me to the edge of our garden, handing me a tutu and saying, ‘Put it on and dance!’ That was the beginning. We would try odd things to have fun. The aim and intention, which my wife was very clear about, was to lift people’s spirits. Here in Pershore, the fear was tangible. The only time we would see our neighbors would be on a Thursday night when we’d all go out onto the street to clap for the NHS and service providers. We’d look down the street and across the square to wave to the friends and neighbors we could no longer speak to in person.”

As the Crimson King himself explains, the world has indeed moved on, though for a couple of years there was a lot of uncertainty. Lockdowns would come and go as the Covid-19 death toll shrunk and grew. It was one of the bleakest times for humanity in recent memory – which is precisely why husband and wife duo felt like it was their moment to shine, sending love and laughter around the world to every house with a working internet connection…

“Toyah was very insistent on lifting spirits,” continues the progressive rock mastermind. “That’s what we set out to do. A good way of doing it was for me to strap on a guitar, pick a song and have fun. Our kitchen performances have been described as ramshackle, which I think is very fair and generous! It’s very clear that we don’t put too much time into, shall we say, high-definition performances. The key to it is, ‘Are we having a good time?’ And I’ve noticed in retrospect that the absurdity is rampant [laughs].”

Now the husband-and-wife duo will be taking their misadventures on the road with Toyah & Robert’s Sunday Lunch Live!, which will see the pair travel the UK, performing Toyah’s own hits, alongside some of their favorite covers and Fripp’s A-list collaborations with the likes of David Bowie.

In discussing his unlikely new guitar path, Fripp is quick to heap praise upon the players who followed in his footsteps, and has more than a few solid-gold anecdotes to share along the way. Below is our full conversation with one of the guitar’s leading innovators, in a wide-ranging chat that’s quite unlike any other Robert Fripp interview you’ve ever read…

First, talk us through that kitchen rig – you seem to mainly stick with your Fernandes Goldtop.

“I’m mainly using that Fernandes, specially made for me in Japan around 2001. On odd occasions, I’m using the same 1959 Les Paul I used on albums like In the Court of the Crimson King and Red, as well as two Bowie albums, and two Fripp & Eno albums. But the main one is the Fernandes. The amp I’m using is a little 30-watt Yamaha desktop thing…”

Like a THR30II, you mean?

“That’s the one! Often, I just plug directly into that, but more recently I’ve been going via my Line 6 Helix Floor thing. I’ve become increasingly hands-on with this stuff and edit all the parameters via my computer. I inherited a whole pile of settings from Jakko [Jakszyk]. When I first began working with him in Crimson around 2013, although my stage rig was different I decided to use the same program as my guitar buddy for rehearsals… that way we’d be on the same page. I inherited all his settings and then started to fine-tune them.

“One day I hit the wrong button and they were all wiped! So I got in touch with the head of Line 6 trying to find out what happened and he had no suggestion to make. I had to rebuild all my programs and that dropped as well. So I had to begin again and learned about backing everything up! I’ve become more and more used to it. I fine-tune certain parameters every day through the computer, because you can’t get to all the options through the floor unit itself. I can tweak the delay times and what order everything is in.”

We heard the Sunday Lunches are filmed and recorded through an iPhone. Is that true?

“Yup! The filming is done through Toyah’s iPhone, which means when she leans forward and speaks the microphone cuts down the guitar sound… that’s what it is, really ramshackle. From time to time, we forget to take the washing down. I might look at a video after and see laundry hanging up or a tea towel drying, all manner of things! This is actually our working kitchen!”

In a handful of videos, you are joined by a masked man known as Sidney Jake. What can you tell us about this secretive character?

“What can I say?! Sidney is very private and reclusive, which we honor. He is a personal guitar student of mine – the first since 1975, in fact. He is also a guitar teacher himself. There was a time when we were doing Sunday Lunch in between King Crimson being on the road – the actual amount of work involved was difficult, as I’d need to learn a particular song and deliver it honorably. I just couldn’t do it all. So Sidney would come in and beef it up with a second guitar part. Post-King Crimson, we’re just back to Toyah and Robert…”

Ah, post-King Crimson? Does that mean it’s definitely over, or is there even the slightest bit of hope for another tour in the distant future?

“I’ve learned from having attempted to get away from King Crimson in 1974, 1984, 2003 and 2008 that it’s probably hard to say! Nowadays there are factors we have to take into account. I have to admit there are no current plans, but there were no plans when we went on hiatus back in the past either. We have to take into account that I’m committed to another band right now – Toyah and Robert. 

“Tony Levin is on tour with Peter Gabriel. All the other members of the band are working. With me and Toyah, we’ve been doing festivals like Glastonbury, Isle of Wight and others. We’re also planning things for next year. So there’s a lot going on… and I’m 77! Age is a factor. Given something as complex as King Crimson, you’d have three men who would be approaching 80 for the next tour [Fripp, Levin and Mel Collins]. Is that likely? Well, I can’t really comment on that, but my focus is on this new project with Toyah.”

You’ve often referred to musicians like Charles Mingus and Charlie Parker as your biggest influences. Is that where you inherited your love for more ‘outside-sounding’ scales?

“What are the main scales that are useful? You turn up and people ask what you know. Now, if you don’t know the minor pentatonic, you won’t be working [laughs]! However, it might be a little limited. The next one I find practical and immensely useful is the symmetrical scale. You can go major and minor using it, going into a Lydian or something from the minor family. If you throw in a ninth, which is the second an octave up, you can bring in all the minor pentatonics and just about everything else you could possibly want.

“As a working musician, the symmetrical scale has always been very useful. Plus it has this seething ambiguity about it. You can never quite settle. If you move, there are only three steps you can use it on, which work like substitutions. For me, it’s relatively endless in practice. As another scale, you can throw in the whole tone, which is another pot of seething ambiguity. With that scale you only need to move one semitone and everything shoots off again. So here we are, two musicians discussing practically what you take with you when you turn up to the gig [laughs]!”

It would be fair to say some of the Sunday Lunch song choices – particularly the more metallic ones – have taken people by surprise. What is the process for selection?

“For background context, I’ve been working in a C pentatonic tuning since 1985. So for 35-odd years before Sunday Lunch, I was using a tuning you don’t find in rock ’n’ roll, which is typically in standard. I’ve had to get used to a basic E tuning after a long time… a lifetime for some! In terms of the songs we choose, I will make a suggestion or Toyah will. 

“First it has to be singable and something she’d like to sing. We also have to factor in whether it’s more keyboard-based or if there are several guitars. I usually have to think about how one guitarist can back a singer, which can present technical problems. Once we choose a piece, I will then research it.”

And how exactly do you go about doing that?

“I will download the original studio version and then go into various live versions, and finally I will see if any other artists have covered the song – preferably live so I can see the twists and turns. Then I will go even further to see the guitar lessons online because different teachers go about it different ways. Very often, if there’s an acoustic version that was stripped down to one guitar, I’ll pay attention to that. 

“If you have 90 seconds to do a five- or six-minute piece, what are the key ingredients? Maybe if there’s a 16-bar intro, can I refer to it in just two? That way people will think, ‘Fripp’s done his homework – he’s not playing all of it but he knows it’s there!’ Having done that research, I’ll then go about learning it and start thinking ‘What would I do with this, how would I engage with this?’ while being respectful to the original artist.”

Given your dedication to highly detailed arrangements and lavish productions over the years, it makes sense that you would research into things this heavily…

“There are two extreme responses to my part in Sunday Lunch. The first is, ‘This is below him: Robert is King Crimson and a serious guitarist,’ which I say is horseshit! Fundamentally, I’m a working player. When we engage with any of the music on Sunday Lunch, it is always with respect. We’re not taking the piss, playing silly rock riffs. That is a preposterous suggestion. I work hard to honor the original player or players on the famous recordings. 

“The other extreme response is ‘Fripp can’t play rock and roll!’ which is the more accurate out of the two perspectives. When we’re doing songs by players like Tony Iommi, Jimmy Page or Ritchie Blackmore, I have to think these are classic players that need attention to detail.”

So which have been your favorites – are there any artists you were less familiar with that you end up admiring as a fan?

“You mentioned Megadeth earlier. Going into Holy Wars… The Punishment Due, I could tell Dave Mustaine is a serious player. He thinks musically in a different way to me. But there are similarities, too. I can tell this from researching his playing: he seems to work in patterns – developing and introducing variations within those patterns, which I do myself.

“I don’t know him personally. The closest I came to meeting him was being in the same hotel as him in Albany last November. I was told Megadeth were there as they’d been seen working out in the gym, but because I was isolating I couldn’t introduce myself and pay my respects. 

“That Megadeth song was a challenge for me. Playing it properly would have taken me three months, with roughly four to eight hours a day woodshedding, as it’s called. It would have taken a lot of focus. But if you’re doing 90 seconds, you still need to work as hard as you possibly can. He’s definitely someone I wasn’t too familiar with prior, but ended up respecting greatly.”

The Sunday Lunch take on Blind by Korn was another one that got tongues wagging for all the right reasons…

“I heard Korn for the very first time when we chose to do Blind and was really impressed by Head and Munky. They’re heavily into seven-strings and alternative tunings. When I worked with Steve Vai on G3 for the first time in 1997, I was actually the ‘G4’ – I would be doing the play-on music rather than get up as one of the three shredders. Steve was probably the first mainstream person to use a seven-string, with the Ibanez that was made for him. I didn’t have one, so Fernandes made me one.

“But with all my work in King Crimson and Guitar Craft, I didn’t get around to using it. Then it went into Crimson storage in Seattle and it didn’t get shipped back here until a few months ago, then Sidney borrowed it for a while.”

You ended up using a black Fernandes six-string for that performance. Did you ever get round to trying out the seven-string?

“I found some time to get more hands-on with it and wondered what tuning I’d use. I figured it would be best to go with C pentatonic with a top A. I don’t like a B on the bass. I don’t like B as a note… it’s unsound. 

“If I tune low, it has to be A, which is probably closer to what Slipknot might use. But let’s stick with Korn for a second. Blind is such an amazing riff. It’s truly astonishing how the two guitars interact with each other. Doing it as a single guitar tuned to E, I hope they forgive me, but I gave it the best shot I could possibly give it from a place of respect.”

Speaking of Slipknot, it was great to see you masked up for that one!

“What I like about Psychosocial and Slipknot is that the ethos of the band is closer to the ethos of bands in general. Which is essentially, the music comes first and the band comes first before the members themselves. Not everyone I’ve worked with in King Crimson has been as committed to the band as they have been to their own solo career, which probably helps explain some of the personal difficulties people have had with Robert… that ‘terrible man’ who was unkind to them.

“With respect to Jim Root and Mick Thomson, I didn’t tune down exactly like they did. But I did keep it in A. Again, there’s something more sound in terms of pitch and resonance for me using A instead of B. Why? I can’t quite tell you, other than – within my nature – A essentially has greater resonance for me than B.”

We can’t go through these more metallic offerings without mentioning Enter Sandman, of course…

“Toyah and myself have been aware of Metallica for quite a while, but I’d never learned a Metallica song before Sunday Lunch. We’re actually playing that song on the road because we love it so much. I look at Kirk and James as one player – they’re joined at the hip for me! Again, I went into different versions from across their career. Nowadays it seems like they play it a couple of semitones down, which is entirely legitimate. Boy, can they really stomp this one live.

“I read somewhere a few years ago that Kirk had just discovered mine and Adrian Belew’s interchanging parts from Discipline in 1981 and enjoyed them. That I don’t know, but what I do know is that Kirk is a stunning player. The solo on Enter Sandman is a real hummer! I’ve been learning it and would say it’s quite challenging but lots of fun. It requires work to get it down properly. So yes, Metallica and Enter Sandman… I just love it!”

Are there any other covers that stick out for you?

“I wasn’t very aware of Korn, Megadeth or Slipknot before Sunday Lunch. I did, however, have some familiarity with Billy Gibbons and ZZ Top. King Crimson were supporting ZZ Top at a stadium in Denver back in 1974. We came on and roughly 20 minutes in, the sound completely died. We didn’t know why, but we left the stage. 20 years later, I learned that it was ZZ Top who pulled the power – but there were various versions of it. Some people said it was the tour manager, but others have suggested it was Billy Gibbons who didn’t like us and made him do that. Another version is that the tour manager didn’t like us. I don’t know! The tour didn’t last long. 

“As for Sharp Dressed Man, the best version I know is Billy Gibbons Live at Daryl’s House. I would recommend anyone reading this to look that up. It’s a gentle revelation in that bluesy area. First of all, the click on the ZZ Top version is around 126. On this version, it’s around 115, which means it slides straight into the pocket. There are three soloists and Billy is first. He doesn’t use a lot of notes… Billy doesn’t have to.”

He really is in a class of his own when it comes to improvised, storytelling blues.

“Yeah! He just slides in and takes you away with him. It’s so slinky, smooth and seductive. It’s as real as guitar playing can get, in the same way you can’t understand Tex-Mex unless you’re in a bar in Houston or San Antonio with Doug Sahm playing in front of you. The next soloist is Shane Theriot, a New Orleans player who has worked with Daryl for years. I’m not sure if I’m allowed to say this yet because it hasn’t been announced but I did a Live at Daryl’s House last November where I sat in with the house band and they are phenomenal.

“They’re all working players at the very top level. Shane is breathtaking. He is what every working player should aspire to. He has his own world but also the capacity to deliver on anything he’s asked to do. When he solos on this recording, it’s an authentic blues lead that’s very different to Billy’s – but very real and convincing. The third solo was by a player I don’t know but who is also a stunning musician.”

A lot of the guitar players you’ve emulated in the series could be described like that, to be fair…

“I’d also like to mention Cult of Personality by Living Colour. I’ve known Vernon [Reid] for years, and King Crimson have toured with his band. I look to him as a personal friend. In 1991, when I was having a very difficult time in legal dispute with former managers, record companies and publishers, I would put on Living Colour in the morning to give me the energy to go into legal battle for the day! Cult of Personality is a stunning track. Vernon can play anything he puts his mind to, and also has his own personality. He’s a monster player!”

As is Steve Stevens, who posted a picture of you together when Toyah and Billy Idol toured the UK last year, telling fans he “literally had King Crimson photos taped to my bedroom wall”…

“I would go along to a few shows and cheer Toyah along. I got to meet Steve Stevens and I bowed before the master. He is a lovely character. As you mentioned, he even took that photo of us together. He’s another monster player. Because he goes back before heavy metal, I don’t know how he’s considered within the pantheon of rock guitarists, but for me he’s definitely there along with Eddie Van Halen and Randy Rhoads. I remember working with Andy Summers in 1982, and asking him if there were any players I should be listening to. He said Eddie Van Halen and I’m glad he did!

“But back to Steve Stevens, he’s a working player who performs with Billy Idol but he can go so much wider. A lot of great players might not show you everything they’re capable of. For example, people go to see Joe Satriani to see Joe doing Joe. But they might not know the whole history of the electric guitar is in his hands. Joe is phenomenal and can do anything he wants! Sadly, as he’s mainly instrumental, we’re not likely to cover him in Sunday Lunch.”

It’s not all hard rock and metal, of course. There are some mainstream choices in the mix, too…

“There are! I love Are You Gonna Go My Way by Lenny Kravitz. Him and Craig Ross sound amazing on that track. The solo is a defining classic! King Crimson toured with Lenny a long time ago – I think it was back in 1995 on some package. Toyah would join us on tour and we’d watch Lenny together, with Cindy Blackman on drums going ‘Bop, bop, bop!’ with total commitment. It was incredible seeing Lenny with that band 28 years ago. But the version I ended up referencing was Lenny live in Hyde Park back in 2015 with Craig on guitar but a different drummer.”

You also covered arguably the most iconic guitar riff of them all when you and Toyah tackled Smoke on the Water…

“That was another fun one. I saw Ritchie Blackmore live when he was 18 at a dance hall in Poole, Dorset. I was around 17 myself, so this must have been around 1963 or 1964. Ritchie was playing with The Outlaws. There might be some footage of him with them on YouTube.

“My feeling is when he got to 18, he realized that he’d gone as far as he was going to in that band. He was superb. It would be unfair to say Ritchie didn’t get better, because he continued to grow. But what I will say is that at 18, he absolutely nailed it.

“He worked with [Screaming Lord] Sutch along with another mythical guitarist called Strawberry, who was somebody everyone had heard of in the reports but no-one at the time seemed to actually know his identity. He would play with his back to the audience and was a legendary player to those of us watching in the early ’60s. 

“I never got to see Strawberry, but I did see Ritchie. He had all the moves, all the swinging and all the chops. We met very briefly in passing and we nodded. My nod to him was one of great respect.”

• Toyah & Robert’s Sunday Lunch Live! tours the UK from September 30 – for full dates and tickets, head to See Tickets.

Toyah Willcox and Robert Fripp’s latest Sunday Lunch clip sees the husband and wife duo covering Cream’s Sunshine of Your Love. 

As ever, the stripped-down take on the Eric Clapton classic also incorporates some of their trademark prop-based comedy, thanks to the addition of some actual cream. 

This proves somewhat distracting to Fripp and the guitarist also receives a dairy dressing – though at least Willcox kindly asks the King Crimson man to remove his electric guitar before doing so. 

Musically, of course, it is perhaps not the most masterful rendition of Cream’s iconic riff, but by now we all know that when it comes to the Sunday Lunch clips, the music is really just a thinly veiled excuse for messing about. 

Indeed Fripp, said as much last year, in an interview with UK paper The Telegraph. 

“At age 76, why should I give a fuck?” commented Fripp, when he was asked if he was concerned about the perception of his YouTube antics.

“My wife insists performers have a responsibility to lift people’s spirits in hard times. Do I respect that? My answer is yes, completely and utterly I do... I’m not sure if that meets a criteria of serving what is highest in music, but for me, it’s a real undertaking that I respect. And I am quite prepared to strap on a guitar and rock out to a classic riff in order to achieve it.”

On the prospect of Fripp rocking out to classic riffs, the duo performed an acoustic set at the UK’s Glastonbury Festival yesterday and have also announced a run of UK Sunday Lunch Rock Party tour dates for the fall, kicking off on September 30 at the Tivoli Theatre in Wimbourne, UK. We assume there will be less dairy at the live shows.

To view the full list of Sunday Lunch dates, head to Toyah Willcox’s site. 

Yep, it’s that time of the week again: the first morning of the working week, when we get to turn our attention to Toyah and Robert Fripp’s ever-active YouTube channel to find out which classic rock track they’ve added to their collection of crazy covers.

Well, last weekend, the pair made light work of Mötley Crüe’s Shout at the Devil – and they did it just days before the Crüe themselves hit the road for the first time with their new guitarist, John 5.

If John 5 has to step down from his six-string duties for whatever reason in the coming weeks, though, at least we know Fripp will be waiting in the wings with a fresh memory of one Mötley Crüe song that regularly makes it onto setlists.

Of course, there is so much more to the video than the fretboard musings of a wig-wearing Fripp, who wields his Les Paul-style Fernandes copy alongside Toyah, who in turn provides the track’s vocals.

If we wanted to, we could go on about the extravagant outfits, dramatic wind machine effect, Fripp’s luscious blonde locks and the slightly out-of-time chorus vocal stabs that never seem to line up, but as is the case with every Sunday Lunch episode, it truly has to be seen to be believed.

Previous installments of the lockdown tradition include covers of Megadeth’s Holy Wars, Kiss’s I Was Made For Lovin’ You, Korn’s Blind and even Limp Bizkit’s Nookie.

Whether their most recent cover made it onto Mötley Crüe’s radar, we’ll probably never know, but it’s likely the band were too busy with their first pre-tour rehearsals of the year – which began last week – to catch the latest Sunday Lunch episode.

A few days after the band’s rehearsals began, Nikki Sixx revealed Mötley Crüe’s pre-tour preparations with John 5 had been “fucking epic”, with the bassist saying the new-look lineup managed to “seamlessly” play a 90-minute set from start-to-finish.

John 5 was confirmed – following weeks of online speculation – to be Mötley Crüe’s new guitarist shortly after the band’s founding guitarist, Mick Mars, announced his official retirement from touring.

The band are set to head out on tour with Def Leppard in just a few weeks time, with an opening show on their own at the Mark G Etess Arena in Atlantic City, New Jersey scheduled for February 10.

For dates and tickets, head over to Mötley Crüe's website. Visit Toyah Willcox and Robert Fripp’s YouTube channel, meanwhile, to peruse their huge collection of covers.

In the latest installment of their long-running Sunday Lunch YouTube series, enigmatic husband-and-wife duo Robert Fripp and Toyah Willcox have served up a suitably ridiculous cover of Kiss’s I Was Made For Lovin’ You.

For the occasion, for reasons unbeknownst to us, Toyah dresses up in a giant pink unicorn costume, while Fripp rocks his usual shirt-tie-and-waistcoat combo.

Their take on the Kiss classic – which appears on their 1979 album, Dynasty – is relatively true to the original – with Fripp serving powerchords on a Les Paul-style Fernandes electric guitar underneath Toyah’s lead vocals. 

As usual, though, Fripp and Toyah’s spin is with the accompanying antics; Toyah puts Fripp off throughout by attempting to eat his head. At least, that’s what we think is going on.

So far in 2023, Fripp and Toyah have covered the likes of Republica’s Ready to Go, The Offspring’s The Kids Aren’t Alright and Toyah’s own Latex Messiah.

Their cover of I Was Made For Lovin’ You joins an ever-expanding list of rock and metal classics tackled by the couple, including Megadeth’s Holy Wars… The Punishment Due, Pantera’s 5 Minutes Alone, Metallica’s Enter Sandman, AC/DC’s Back in Black and Limp Bizkit’s Nookie.

Sunday Lunch was, until last year, always a double act, however that all changed when the pair invited English singer-songwriter Chesney Hawkes for a month-long residency as a new trio.

During their time together, the three musicians covered Hawkes’ The One and Only, The Killers’ Mr. Brightside, Bryan Adams’ coming-of-age classic, Summer of ‘69 and Fountains of Wayne’s pop-punk mega-hit, Stacy’s Mom.

In an interview conducted last year, Fripp asked why he “should give a fuck” that some King Crimson fans don’t take kindly to his Sunday Lunch YouTube antics.

“We’re keenly aware of what people have experienced during lockdown,” he said. “I mean, banged up in a small apartment while your mother’s dying and you can’t go to the funeral. My wife said to me, if all we’ve done in two years is help one person through their bad time, it’s all worth it.

“So I’m not sure if that meets a criteria of serving what is highest in music, but for me, it’s a real undertaking that I respect. And I am quite prepared to strap on a guitar and rock out to a classic riff in order to achieve it… But it upset some King Crimson fans.”

In a festive new installment of their long-running Sunday Lunch YouTube series, Robert Fripp and Toyah Willcox have offered their take on the Christmas classic, Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree.

The track – originally written by Johnny Marks and made famous by Brenda Lee in 1958 – provides ample opportunity for Fripp and Toyah’s trademark antics, as the King Crimson man plays a series of distortion-heavy powerchords on a Les Paul while Toyah, as usual, handles vocal duties.

And yes, like so many installments of Sunday Lunch, this clip features a rather odd climax of its own, in which Toyah places shaving cream on Fripp’s head, before attempting to blow it off with a large fan. There’s no need to seek an explanation for such escapades anymore – just enjoy it.

Robert Fripp and Toyah have covered literally hundreds of tracks since the launch of their Sunday Lunch YouTube series during the height of Covid.

The couple have placed emphasis on rock and metal songs as of late, tackling the likes of Megadeth’s Holy Wars… The Punishment Due, Pantera’s 5 Minutes Alone, Metallica’s Enter Sandman, AC/DC’s Back in Black and Limp Bizkit’s Nookie.

They also recently wrapped up a four-week stint with English singer and actor Chesney Hawkes, in which the three-piece performed covers of Hawkes’ The One and Only, The Killers’ Mr. Brightside, Bryan Adams’ coming-of-age classic, Summer of ‘69 and Fountains of Wayne’s pop-punk mega-hit, Stacy’s Mom.

Back in October, Robert Fripp spoke of the motive behind the Sunday Lunch series, and had some choice words for King Crimson fans who have taken issue with their antics.

“We’re keenly aware of what people have experienced during lockdown,” he said. “I mean, banged up in a small apartment while your mother’s dying and you can’t go to the funeral. My wife said to me, if all we’ve done in two years is help one person through their bad time, it’s all worth it.

“So I’m not sure if that meets a criteria of serving what is highest in music, but for me, it’s a real undertaking that I respect. And I am quite prepared to strap on a guitar and rock out to a classic riff in order to achieve it… But it upset some King Crimson fans.”

He added, however: “At age 76, why should I give a fuck?”

In their Sunday Lunch YouTube series, Robert Fripp and Toyah Willcox have covered a wealth of classic metal cuts, from Metallica’s Seek & Destroy to Korn’s Blind, and this week they added another feather to their caps with a hilarious take on Megadeth’s Holy Wars… The Punishment Due.

In this installment, the pair take on the opening track from the thrash metal icons’ fourth studio album, Rust in Peace, with the King Crimson man handling Dave Mustaine and Marty Friedman’s electric guitar riffs using a Les Paul and Toyah providing vocals while holding an inflatable crown balloon. Yep, it’s surreal, all right. Watch the video below.

Other notable metal cuts Fripp and Toyah have undertaken in their Sunday Lunch series include Pantera’s 5 Minutes Alone, Metallica’s Enter Sandman, AC/DC’s Back in Black and Limp Bizkit’s Nookie.

The duo recently wrapped up a four-week Sunday Lunch stint with English singer and actor Chesney Hawkes, in which the motley trio performed covers of Hawkes’ The One and Only, The Killers’ pop anthem Mr. Brightside and Bryan Adams’ coming-of-age rock classic Summer of ‘69 and Fountains of Wayne’s pop-punk mega-hit Stacy’s Mom.

Hawkes’ departure no doubt left a hole in the hearts of Sunday Lunch fans everywhere, who grew accustomed to the series’ fresh three-piece format, and wondered why he’d give up such a gig. 

Now, all has become clear, as the singer was recently spotted performing at halftime during a group-stage clash between England and Wales at the FIFA World Cup in Qatar 2022, if you can believe it.

Last month, Robert Fripp elaborated on the motive behind his and his wife’s Sunday Lunch series, and took aim at King Crimson fans who have criticized them for their antics.

“We’re keenly aware of what people have experienced during lockdown,” he said. “I mean, banged up in a small apartment while your mother’s dying and you can’t go to the funeral. My wife said to me, if all we’ve done in two years is help one person through their bad time, it’s all worth it.

“So I’m not sure if that meets a criteria of serving what is highest in music, but for me, it’s a real undertaking that I respect. And I am quite prepared to strap on a guitar and rock out to a classic riff in order to achieve it… But it upset some King Crimson fans.”

He added, however: “At age 76, why should I give a fuck?”

Robert Fripp and Toyah Willcox’s Sunday Lunch YouTube series has continued to go from strength to strength throughout 2022. However, it arguably reached its artistic peak this past week, as the duo covered Metallica’s Seek & Destroy, through the medium of guitar and squeaky chew toys.

In the clip, Fripp handles a combination of Kirk Hammett’s jarring opening lick and James Hetfield’s immediate, chunky thrash riff via his Fernandes electric guitar. Willcox then employs chew toys to surprisingly musical (but-OK-not-that-brilliant) effect in a sort of descending note across the chorus. It’s a bit like string-bending at points, but also a lot more painful and irritating. 

Of course, the iconoclasm is largely the point. Fripp has always delighted in keeping the listener guessing and Willcox, for all her pop hits, emerged in the slash and burn of ’70s Britain’s punk scene. Notably, with a role in Derek Jarman’s cult 1978 film Jubilee, which saw her appear alongside Jordan, The Slits, Adam Ant and Siouxsie and the Banshees.

The pair’s decision to return to Metallica is a nice nod to one of their most popular Sunday Lunch clips: a cover of Metallica’s Enter Sandman, in which Willcox performed vocals from an exercise bike. They later took on another Metallica hit, Master of Puppets and Willcox took the title to heart, opting to string up Fripp while performing to a backing track.

The series has been running for over two years now, having initially started in 2020 – partly to cheer everyone up, but also as a way for Willcox to distract Fripp from the loss of touring and performing brought about by the pandemic. 

The love for thrash icons is clearly still strong, though. Perhaps it’s time Metallica dropped in for lunch?

King Crimson guitar maestro Robert Fripp and his wife Toyah Willcox dress up in crazy outfits year-round for their weekly Sunday Lunch YouTube series, so why would Halloween be any different?

In their latest video, the madcap duo celebrate the spookiest day of the year by transforming their now-famous kitchen into a cobweb-covered spider’s lair, with Fripp sporting mummy-style attire crawling with eight-legged critters, while Toyah wears, well, a costume hardly far removed from her usual getup. There is, however, a rather sizable arachnid covering her midsection.

And to pair with their meticulously crafted aesthetic, the couple have selected Black Sabbath’s spine-tingling 1971 classic Children of the Grave – from the same year’s Master of Reality – as the subject of this week’s video.

Watch in the video above as Fripp calls upon an LP-style electric guitar to serve up the track’s weighty riffs, while Toyah busts some of her tried-and-tested moves in the background.

Despite the reasonably innocuous nature of Fripp and Toyah’s Sunday Lunch YouTube covers series, a sect of King Crimson fans have expressed discontent with their antics. Fripp, however, is not at all bothered. “At age 76, why should I give a fuck?” he said last week.

“We’re keenly aware of what people have experienced during lockdown,” he told The Telegraph. “I mean, banged up in a small apartment while your mother’s dying and you can’t go to the funeral. My wife said to me, if all we’ve done in two years is help one person through their bad time, it’s all worth it.

“So I’m not sure if that meets a criteria of serving what is highest in music, but for me, it’s a real undertaking that I respect. And I am quite prepared to strap on a guitar and rock out to a classic riff in order to achieve it… But it upset some King Crimson fans.”

Until last month, Fripp and Toyah’s Sunday Lunch series was by and large exclusively a double act. However, the enigmatic pair invited English actor and musician Chesney Hawkes into their home for a four-week residency from late September.

During their time together, the trio tackled The One and Only, from Hawkes 1991 album Buddy’s Song, The Killers’ Mr. Brightside, Bryan Adams’ Summer of ‘69 and Fountains of Wayne’s pop-punk anthem, Stacy’s Mom.

Other highlights of the Sunday Lunch series – which now comprises literally hundreds of cover videos – include Limp Bizkit’s Nookie, Pantera’s 5 Minutes Alone, Korn’s Blind and Neil Young’s Rockin’ in the Free World, the latter of which the duo performed earlier this year in solidarity with Ukraine.

Since starting their Sunday Lunch YouTube series during the height of the Covid pandemic, husband and wife duo Robert Fripp and Toyah Willcox have delighted viewers around the world with their quirky, humorous takes on classic songs.

But despite the innocuous nature of their content, some have expressed discontent with Fripp and Toyah’s antics. Fripp, however, doesn’t care one bit. “At age 76, why should I give a fuck?” he quips, in a new interview with The Telegraph.

As the guitarist explains, the lighthearted series began when his wife handed him a tutu and a pair of her black tights, brought him to the end of the garden of their home in Pershore, Worcestershire and put on Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake.

“My wife insists performers have a responsibility to lift people’s spirits in hard times,” he says. “Do I respect that? My answer is yes, completely and utterly I do.”

He continues: “We’re keenly aware of what people have experienced during lockdown. I mean, banged up in a small apartment while your mother’s dying and you can’t go to the funeral. My wife said to me, if all we’ve done in two years is help one person through their bad time, it’s all worth it.

“So I’m not sure if that meets a criteria of serving what is highest in music, but for me, it’s a real undertaking that I respect. And I am quite prepared to strap on a guitar and rock out to a classic riff in order to achieve it… But it upset some King Crimson fans.”

So there you have it: don’t expect the Crimson guitarist to hang up his six-string and lock his closet full of wacky outfits any time soon.

English actor and musician Chesney Hawkes recently completed a brief stint – a residency, if you will – on Robert Fripp and Toyah’s Sunday Lunch series. The unlikely trio covered four songs in a month: The One and Only, from Hawkes 1991 album Buddy’s Song, The Killers’ Mr. Brightside, Bryan Adams’ Summer of ‘69 and Fountains of Wayne’s pop-punk anthem, Stacy’s Mom.

Other highlights from the series – which at this point consists of literally hundreds of videos – include Limp Bizkit’s 1999 nu-metal anthem Nookie, Pantera’s 5 Minutes Alone, Korn’s Blind, Green Day’s Basket Case, and Neil Young’s Rockin’ in the Free World, which the husband and wife performed earlier this year in solidarity with Ukraine.

Robert Fripp and Toyah Willcox had a good run with Chesney Hawkes in the last month, covering The One and Only – from Hawkes’ 1991 album, Buddy’s Song – as well as Fountains of Wayne’s pop-punk classic, Stacy’s Mom, and The Killers’ pop-rock anthem, Mr. Brightside. Sadly though, the trio have now parted ways.

But wipe those tears away, as YouTube’s most enigmatic musical duo are back with regular scheduled programming on their ever-intriguing Sunday Lunch series.

Back in August, Fripp and Toyah took on Limp Bizkit’s Nookie – one of the defining tracks of Woodstock ‘99 – shortly after the release of Netflix’s tell-all Trainwreck documentary, which cataloged the series of poor management decisions leading to the festival’s eventual downfall.

And now, the pair take us back to the ill-fated festival once again with an utterly chaotic cover of Korn’s debut album opener, Blind.

Now, if you’ve seen the documentary, or indeed, footage from Korn’s raucous set at Woodstock ‘99, you’ll attest to the mayhem that erupts when the band performs Blind to hundreds of thousands of wound-up metal fans.

Fripp and Toyah’s take on the track isn’t nearly as havoc-inducing, perhaps because Toyah doesn’t yell Jonathan Davis’s classic opening line: “Are you ready?!”

The pair do their best at matching Korn’s Woodstock performance from the comfort of their kitchen, though, as Toyah dances on the table while the King Crimson man plays powerchords on an LP-style Fernandes electric guitar.

Other metal classics tackled by Fripp and Toyah since their Sunday Lunch series began in the Covid pandemic include Pantera’s 5 Minutes Alone, Metallica’s Enter Sandman and AC/DC’s Back in Black.

Sunday Lunch sees Robert Fripp display his humorous side, but he’s also one of the most accomplished prog rock guitarists in the world.

In a recent interview with Guitarist, he spoke about his goal as a guitar player to blend the sounds of both Jimi Hendrix and Hungarian composer Béla Bartók, as well as what made King Crimson “problematic” and why he has “no interest in gear at all”.

Sunday Lunch – the hilarious YouTube series conceived by Robert Fripp and Toyah Willcox – has been a triple act as of late. The enigmatic pair threw us for a curveball last month when they recruited English singer and actor Chesney Hawkes for a ridiculous cover of Hawkes’ The One and Only.

And the motley trio doubled down in subsequent weeks, taking on The Killers’ pop anthem Mr. Brightside and Bryan Adams coming-of-age rock classic Summer of ‘69.

Sadly, Hawkes’ tenure with the pair has now come to an end, but the musicians have celebrated the closure of their unlikely collaboration with a hysterical swansong cover of Fountains of Wayne’s pop-punk classic, Stacy’s Mom.

Once again, Fripp hands six-string duties to Hawkes, who plays the track’s chunky palm-muted powerchords on a Seafoam Green Fender Telecaster.

Stranger things occur in the background, though, as Fripp – sporting a Hannibal Lecter face mask – is bound in red rope by his wife, who herself is dressed in a maid outfit. Yes, it really has to be seen to be believed.

Robert Fripp and Toyah Willcox started their Sunday Lunch YouTube series in the height of the coronavirus pandemic in 2020, and have since posted humorous covers of a host of classics ranging in genre from nu-metal to pop.

Highlights include Limp Bizkit’s 1999 nu-metal slam Nookie, Pantera’s 5 Minutes Alone (from 1994’s Far Beyond Driven), Green Day’s pop-punk classic Basket Case, and Neil Young’s Rockin’ in the Free World, which they performed earlier this year in solidarity with Ukraine.

Robert Fripp recently spoke to Guitarist about his goal as a guitar player to meld the sounds of both Jimi Hendrix and Hungarian composer Béla Bartók, as well as what made King Crimson “problematic” and why he has “no interest in gear at all”.

Last week, Robert Fripp and Toyah Willcox teamed up with English singer and actor Chesney Hawkes in what appeared at the time to be a one-off three-piece installment of their now-legendary Sunday Lunch YouTube series.

But the enigmatic husband-and-wife duo have doubled down in another collaborative performance with Hawkes, this time taking on The Killers' end-of-the-night club classic, Mr. Brightside.

As in last week’s video, the King Crimson guitarist abdicates six-string duties, instead leaving Hawkes to play some slightly distorted powerchords on his Seafoam Green Fender Telecaster while Fripp and Toyah throw some serious shapes in the background, both wearing black tutus. Yes, the silliness is off the charts here.

Since the inception of their Sunday Lunch YouTube series during the height of the coronavirus pandemic in 2020, Robert Fripp and Toyah Willcox have recorded countless covers in their hilarious, light-hearted style, taking on classics in genres ranging from nu-metal to pop.

Highlights of the series include covers of Limp Bizkit’s 1999 nu-metal slam Nookie, Pantera’s 5 Minutes Alone (from 1994’s Far Beyond Driven), Green Day’s pop-punk classic Basket Case, and Neil Young’s Rockin’ in the Free World, which they performed earlier this year in solidarity with Ukraine.

In an in-depth interview with Guitarist last month, Fripp detailed his goal as a guitarist – to meld the sounds of both Jimi Hendrix and Hungarian composer Béla Bartók – and discussed what made King Crimson “problematic” and why he has “no interest in gear at all." 

Robert Fripp and Toyah Willcox’s Sunday Lunch YouTube cover series has traditionally been a double act since its 2020, lockdown-inspired inception. With the exception of mystery guitarist Sidney Jake in several videos, the series is generally free of guest appearances.

But in their latest offering, the husband-and-wife duo have broken the mould, recruiting English singer and actor Chesney Hawkes for a cover of The One and Only, the opener from his 1991 album, Buddy’s Song.

In another deviation from the usual Sunday Lunch formula, Fripp sets down his guitar to let Hawkes do the six-string talking on a Surf Green Fender Telecaster, while the King Crimson guitarist, dressed in lederhosen and with has hands tied behind his back, apparently, has bread rolls knocked off his head by his baseball bat-wielding spouse, who is attired in a red maid outfit. Yes, there really is no end to the absurdity.

Robert Fripp and Toyah Willcox have recorded literally hundreds of episodes for their Sunday Lunch YouTube series. 

Since it began two years ago, the couple have covered a range of songs from a host of different genres in their quirky, barebones style, from more metal-leaning cuts like Limp Bizkit’s Nookie and Pantera’s 5 Minutes Alone to Neil Young’s Rockin’ in the Free World, which they performed earlier this year to show solidarity with Ukraine.

In an interview with Guitarist last month, Fripp detailed his quest as a player to fuse the sounds of Hendrix and Hungarian composer Béla Bartók, what made King Crimson “problematic” and why has “no interest in gear at all”.

Robert Fripp and Toyah Willcox took a break from their weekly Sunday Lunch series last week to bring a collection of hilarious bloopers from their last two years of bizarre barebones cover tracks.

But it’s back to regular scheduled programming for rock’s favorite YouTube power couple, and this time they venture into the heavier realm of metal, covering Pantera’s 5 Minutes Alone, from the band’s massive 1994 album, Far Beyond Driven.

Whilst he gives it his best shot, we have to be honest: Fripp’s clunky take on the Dimebag’s original guitar riffs immediately illustrates why he lost out on the Pantera reunion job to Zakk Wylde.

Of course, we jest; Fripp and Toyah’s Sunday Lunch series is a chance for the pair to have a laugh and serve up humorous recreations of rock and metal classics. In reality, Fripp is one of the most accomplished prog guitarists of all time, playing electric guitar in King Crimson on and off since the band’s formation in 1968.

Now two years old, the Sunday Lunch series has seen the duo cover the likes of Limp Bizkit’s Nookie – for which Fripp donned an appropriate sideways baseball cap – Rage Against the Machine’s Killing in the Name, Green Day’s Basket Case and Neil Young’s Rockin’ in the Free World, which they played back in March to show solidarity with Ukraine.

In a recent interview with Guitarist, Fripp dove deep on his quest to combine Hendrix and Bartók, what made King Crimson “problematic” and why he has “no interest in gear at all”.

With a 32-disc boxset of his solo work during the late 1970s already released into the wild and a guitar book coming out in early autumn, Robert sits down with us at Fripp HQ in the middle England countryside to talk all things King Crimson, as we take an exclusive look at the instruments that have given voice to some of prog-rock’s finest moments...

Interviews with ‘That Awful Man’, as Robert Fripp refers to himself these days, are rare, and until now he hasn’t allowed his collection of guitars to be photographed, including the ’59 Les Paul Custom that was used on so many classic Crimson albums.

“I don’t collect guitars,” he tells us as we settle down to talk, “they are merely tools that I use in my work.” However, we note that the famous ’59 appears to be in almost pristine condition – in fact, it’s still shiny even after years on the road. “One careful owner,” he quips with a wry grin.

Anyone who wants to assess Fripp’s skills as a guitarist need only check out Fracture from the King Crimson album Starless And Bible Black. The Moto Perpetuo from that piece is a legendary example of his crosspicking finesse. 

His guitar journey began with lessons that found him playing some challenging classical pieces with a plectrum, instead of the more conventional fingerstyle. This influence reached into the Crimson repertoire and is apparent in 1970’s Peace – A Theme from In The Wake Of Poseidon.

“Yes, Carcassi Etude No 7, the middle section,” he tells us. “You probably wouldn’t be able to see the connection, but Peace – A Theme wouldn’t have quite ended up that way unless I practiced the Carcassi Etudes for fingerstyle, but with a pick because crosspicking was my speciality.”

Now that Crimson has entered another hiatus, the rendition of Starless in Japan last December being regarded by all as the last we’ll hear from the band, it’s time to catch up with Crimson’s only permanent member. And we start our conversation at the very beginning...

How did you become interested in music – and specifically the guitar – in the first place?

“My trajectory was at age 11 my sister and I bought two records, Rock With The Caveman by Tommy Steele and Don’t Be Cruel by Elvis Presley. The guitarist on Tommy Steele I learnt later was Bert Weedon, on Elvis, Scotty Moore. There weren’t any English rock musicians, they were all jazzers. Old men, basically. Old men who would come in and do the young character sessions. 

“Mel Collins’ [Crimson sax player] father would be doing the ripping tenor solos on [BBC music programme] Six-Five Special with Tubby Hayes and Ronnie Scott sitting next to him. They would be making derogatory comments on these young rock artists who really weren’t in the same musical ballpark as they were. 

“In America it was entirely different. There was nothing demeaning about playing rock music and moving out of blues. Scotty Moore, Chuck Berry, the sheer power of Jerry Lee Lewis... That was me around 11 to 12.

“At 13 trad jazz came along. I would go down to the Winter Gardens in Bournemouth and see all the characters: Chris Barber, Acker Bilk, Monty Sunshine and just about everyone else that was working at the time. Memphis Slim I saw there, too – I think he was supporting Chris Barber. Wow, wow. At 15, hearing Mingus, Extrapolation. Max Roach, Town Hall New York City. 

“Then, at 17, the more challenging aspects of what we call classic music. It segued into The Beatles and 1960s English rock instrumentals. I saw The Outlaws at a show in Poole when I was 17 with Ritchie Blackmore, he was then 18. He was phenomenal. He had all the moves. He had the music, he had the playing, it was astonishing.

“The Bournemouth scene was very hot. Working in the first League Of Gentlemen we would do lots of specialty vocals: Four Seasons, Beatles. We would also do the instrumental specialities, Entry Of The Gladiators, which I didn’t realize until I met him years later was Mick Jones of Foreigner. Then I went off to college to take A-levels to go onto university and take a degree in estate management.

“My musical interest went slightly to the side, and I went to the Majestic Dance Orchestra to pay my way through college. When that came to an end, there was Hendrix, Sgt Pepper and things shot off in a different direction, to the extent I could no longer continue. Going on to London where I’d been accepted for a place for three years to take a degree in estate management at the College of Estate Management in South Kensington, I had my digs booked in Acton; how awful that was. I said to my father, ‘I can’t continue,’ and I turned professional on my 21st birthday.”

What was the first guitar you had when you began playing?

“It was an Egmond Freres, an appalling instrument. The action at the 7th fret, you needed pliers to depress it. It was appalling. It required me to develop such strong muscles that I remember in 1971 practicing to put less pressure into my left hand. I moved onto a cheap Rosetti guitar, which was not good. Then a Höfner; I believe it was a President, it was the cutaway version. It wasn’t great, but at least it was an instrument.

“My first good guitar was my Gibson ES-345 Stereo, which I bought from Eddie Moors music shop in Boscombe where on a Saturday afternoon I would give guitar lessons. Young characters would come in and say, ‘I’m interested in buying a guitar.’ They’d say, ‘We have an in-store guitar teacher who can give you lessons on Saturday afternoon.’ I’d go around the corner to something like a village hall in Boscombe and give guitar lessons. 

“Then in the evening I’d go on to Chewton Glen Hotel, this was when I was 17, and play in the Douglas Ward Trio. This was my first good guitar, and it was expensive, something like £350. That was the guitar with The League Of Gentlemen. That took me to London with Giles, Giles And Fripp, that guitar, which I used until 1968 when I got my first Les Paul. I only used the 345 again with Crimson on In The Wake Of Poseidon on Cat Food, and Bolero [from Lizard].”

1959 Gibson Les Paul Custom

Was there an influence on you musically from listening to classical music?

“I began listening to the Bartók String Quartet and Stravinsky’s Rite Of Spring. The turning point in my musical, and I suppose personal, life was something like ‘music is one’. I didn’t hear separate categories, I heard music but as if it was one musician speaking in a variety of dialects. The crashing chords of Rite Of Spring or Bartók, where is that coming from? The opening bars of Purple Haze or Day In The Life, I Am The Walrus, it all had this incredible power as it reached over and pulled me towards it.”

You’re well known for your crosspicking ability on pieces such as Fracture. How did this skill begin to develop?

“It’s what in Guitar Craft is called ‘a point of seeing’. It’s not the process of rational deduction of working out; you simply see something. I remember specifically the moment. I was at home in the first floor rear room where my sister and myself would do homework. I was practicing Study In 3/4 by Dick Sadleir. 

“My guitar teacher, Don Strike, gave me a very good technical foundation. In terms of current music, it was a little old-fashioned. It was kind of corny for a young character who enjoyed Scotty Moore. Instead of doing bom-bish-bish bom-bish-bish, I began crosspicking. The same shapes, the same notes but crosspicking it. 

“Seeing that that was so obviously the way to go I continued to develop that as a speciality, including [Francisco] Tárrega’s Recuerdos de la Alhambra, which was a very challenging piece for the pick.”

There’s not a great deal of blues influence in your playing...

“Why didn’t I become a blues guitarist? Probably because I wasn’t a very good blues guitarist. The thing is, a lot of young players and some established players have said to me, ‘I only wanted to be like Clapton.’ They didn’t say it, but you knew it. That wasn’t my aim. Stunning player, but... The question eventually became formulated for me as, ‘What would Hendrix sound like playing the Bartók String Quartets?’

“In 1969 the major musical influences in Crimson were Ian McDonald and Michael Giles. I recognized they had a connection with music, which at the time I didn’t have, but I could recognize in others. I’d known this probably since I was 17 or 18 working alongside and going to see the other young players in Bournemouth, stunning young players.”

How did McDonald’s and Giles’ influence connect with you in Crimson’s early days?

“In the studio recording In The Court Of The Crimson King they would make a comment, [and] I would adjust my response to sit in accord with theirs. Then when they left it was heartbreaking for me, because although Giles wasn’t a writer his contributions to the arrangements and direction were stunning.

“My primary role for In the Court... in Crimson in 1969, as I saw it, was to come up with guitar parts that supported the writing. Although you could say that McDonald and [Peter] Sinfield were the main writers, you can’t exclude Giles from that. You can’t really exclude anyone from that, it was five people. 

“Moonchild on that album, the music was 99 per cent Robert [Fripp, himself] with one suggestion from Ian McDonald to move a G to a G#, which we incorporated. This was Ian, he had a gift for the simple melodic phrase.

“That’s what we went with. For the writing credit, which properly should have been Fripp/Sinfield, I decided to have all the names of the members because I felt that actually everyone was involved equally. How can you exclude anyone at that point? For me, Crimson has always been a co-operative, which it certainly was in 1969.”

• Robert Fripp’s 20 greatest guitar moments

This led to some turbulence within the band, didn’t it?

“My personal difficulties with any Crimson musician since have been if they favor themselves or see themselves as somehow coming ahead of the other players or the music. To put that positively within Crimson, the music comes first: principle one. Principle two: the band comes first. The interests of the band come ahead of the interests of the other players. Three: we share the money. Why do there seem to be personal difficulties? Look at those three principles and really that’s the clue to anything that follows.

“If the music does come first, then all the names are there at the top. We shared the record royalties; we shared the publishing royalties. There is a legitimate concern that if you have one person who writes all the music, shouldn’t they get a disproportionate part of the publishing? The answer is yes, they should. This was a legitimate concern for Adrian Belew.

“From 1994 onwards, we would look at essentially who had made the greatest contribution to writing this piece. Between 1970 and 1974 when Robert was the primary writer, even if Bill Bruford didn’t play a note he would receive an equal share of the publishing income. Why? Firstly, because it exemplified the view that where there is an equal commitment there is an equitable distribution.

“Secondly, if Robert made a value judgement or recommendation that we go this way, there was never any question that my recommendation for either a musical or business direction favored me. There was never a conflict of interests with Robert. If I said, ‘Look, lads. I think we should do this.’ It was because I thought we should do this. Why? Primarily for the music, then primarily the interest of the band and so on.”

Gibson ES-345

The recent release of the Exposures boxset features Steven Wilson remixes of your solo material. As with the Crimson remixes Steven has done, they’re remarkably faithful to the originals.

“When I go in to mix something, I don’t go in with a historic overview to mind. Steven’s aim was very faithfully to reproduce the original but with modern technology. There had been the odd discussions. For example, with Lizard there were one or two things we didn’t quite put in and so on. My view on occasion has been we actually didn’t get it right the first time, so now is an opportunity. Then you say, ‘What’s right and what’s wrong?’ If it has been adopted and accepted by decades of listeners, then maybe that’s what it is. Steven aims to get it exactly as. Me, I’d be very happy to go a different way.

“In terms of Exposure I went down and worked with Steven, I was very up for complete reimagining. Steven: ‘No, this is a classic.’ His brief, this is Steven, is to present this as the original. How can I put it? That desk [pointing to an antique writing desk in the room in which we are sitting] is an 1830s desk. It’s a classic of its kind. If I were designing a desk for today to use with modern things, such as having computers on the side, it wouldn’t be designed like that. However, for me that is the classic and I’m not going to redesign it. That’s Steven’s point of view: this is the classic. The only innovation we had on Exposure was with [Dolby] Atmos mixing, which isn’t, I suppose, entirely legitimate.”

Revisiting Exposure, it is possible to see a stylistic link between the albums Red from the mid-70s and Discipline from the early 80s, with the two guitars playing offset then synchronous parts. Was this an idea forming in your mind during Crimson’s hiatus in the late 70s?

“Was it Steve Reich? Was it Philip Glass? Was it Robert Fripp? Was it in the air? Was it world music? Anyway, all of this, my thinking, my academic interests and approach to music were in place in 1980, 1981, with the coming together of that form of King Crimson. I met Adrian [Belew] personally at The Bottom Line in New York when I went down to see Steve Reich. Bowie was there with Adrian. We went over and said hello and Adrian said, ‘Let’s get together for tea tomorrow,’ so we did. That’s how our personal connection began.”

People might not be aware that you actually write these pieces out on manuscript paper.

“Yes, I do. I don’t give the other players charts. I don’t like the word ‘bandleader’ because I’ve never viewed myself as a bandleader. That’s another endless wittering on. You have [Charles] Mingus. I understand that Mingus didn’t give the other characters in the band charts. Why? Because it goes in through your eyes. You present the music you have and you say, ‘If I’m playing this, what are you playing?’ One of Bill’s good quotes from the time was, ‘It was as if Robert expected us to know what to play.’ Of course. If I have to tell you what to play, why are we working together?

“What I would aim to do is construct situations or conditions within which the talent of each of these players is given an opportunity to develop. To the extent that when Robert composed for Crimson it was writing specifically for these people in this band to play. Not a generic piece that anyone could play, it was specifically for these people.

“There were two occasions when I presented Larks’ [Tongues in Aspic, Part] Two to that formation of Crimson. We had short rehearsals in Covent Garden and then we went to Richmond Athletic Club. I presented the defining Larks’ rhythm and chords at Covent Garden and it wasn’t heard, it went nowhere. Then I played it at Richmond Athletic Club and Bill and John [Wetton] leapt straight in. They had it; clicked, it worked. Most really good rock drummers in London at the time wouldn’t have heard it because it wasn’t written for them.

“With Crimson it was an open form of engagement, which has always been complex, always problematic and always very demanding. If you would like a band to break up, have writing rehearsals. What you do when you hit that problem is you get on the road. Then you introduce an audience into the situation, music comes to life and you’ll keep going. Not that Robert is a bandleader, but in terms of practical strategies for keeping the band together and working, you move from writing rehearsals as quickly as possible into live performance.”

Can we talk a little about gear?

“You know I have no interest in that. I have no interest in gear at all. For example, whatever fuzzbox, whatever guitar, whatever amp I’m using I’ll get my sound. Here’s an example of this. I went to see Herbie Hancock and Chick Corea at Carnegie Hall: wow, breathtaking. Chick Corea is stage right, Herbie Hancock on the left. They changed places and played and their sounds went with them. I still don’t understand that. How can that be? It cannot be that the sound of a piano changes. The sound of a piano is the sound of a piano, surely?

“With Crimson I use Axe-Fx, which is very good. For basic work that I can carry myself without a team of engineers I use a Helix. Why? Because Jakko [Jakszyk] uses a Helix and if you’re working in a band with another character you aim for compatibility. The other thing is, he can tell me how to work it.”

The rig you use for soundscaping hasn’t changed too dramatically over the years, has it?

“It changed. I’m trying to think when it changed from the ‘Solar Voyager’ to the ‘Sirius Probe’. It changed when I stopped using the [TC Electronic] TC2290, which I used to use for sampling. It developed high-level digital frizz. I started using the Eventide 8000s, which are astonishing things. You have 90-second samples that will repeat. You can leave them 24 hours, come back, no decay, no degeneration whatsoever. For sampling, that’s astonishing. There is something irreplaceable in those early versions of the Eventides. I’ve no idea what the algorithms are, but wow. They shape the sound.

“In terms of the 8000s where I have bona fide quadraphonic sound, what I do is I work to ratios in delay. If you have four outputs, if a short loop is needed, one stereo pair will have 12 seconds on one side and 18 seconds on the other. You have a 3:2 ratio. On the next one I tend to have an offset of maybe 20.5 to 21 seconds. It’s just essentially the same delay, which over a period of maybe half an hour will change. 

“If I’m going for longform soundscapes it might be something like 42:49 or 42:63. On the other stereo pair to complete the quadraphonic might be 21:35 or 63:72. In other words, there are ratios within the time delays generally in terms of six or seven seconds, which lots of experience – including being booed constantly – has suggested to me this has resonance.

“I’ll then go in and I have my defining programs within the Eventide 3000s, which sends it shooting off in different directions. In terms of soundscape performances, I bypass all of that and through an Eventide Eclipse I have a solo sound. It gives me my solo voice. In the quiet moments the solo voice will come up with all of this, all in real-time. 

“I have had various suggestions, ‘Bob, why don’t you use Ableton Live?’ The answer is, when I’m doing a live performance soundscape with the rig I have, the Sirius Probe, all of the parameters I can change in real-time by hand as I am playing. I don’t have to go to a computer and fiddle about. I don’t have to look up here and see what’s going on, I can do it all with one hand.”

Tokai LP-type

Are you still using the Roland GR-1?

“It’s set up in my full Crimson rig. I haven’t been using it recently, but I have used it certainly in 2015, probably using it for the first half of seven-, eight-piece Crimson. Why? Because it does two or three things that nothing else does. The same as the 3000s. The GR-1 has a fretless bass sound, that is breathtaking, which I would use to have fun with Tony Levin. Tony would be doing some upright slides, I might slip in some fretless. Tony would look up wondering where the bass sound was coming from.

“It’s also stunning in terms of low-end for soundscapes. It also has bell sounds, which in combination with an Eventide 3000 programme called ‘In Six’ makes astonishing sounds. It also has a piano sound, which I haven’t really used since 2003, but which was astonishing. I used it a lot in all the ProjeKcts.”

Technology has come a long way since your early Frippertronics work.

“Yes, that’s right. I’ve had these posts, ‘Bring back the ReVox. Where is Frippertronics?’ It’s just not feasible. Why not? If you go back to when I used that technology you’d have to fly it. What would happen if there was a bounce? Here’s another one: you have it set up on the table, what would happen if someone walked by and bumped the table? The answer is, there would be a fluttering on the tape. You’d then have to shape the entire Frippertronics piece around the flutter. If, as in Madrid in May 1979, what happens if the ReVox the record company has brought in begins to catch fire? What do you do? These are practical examples. It’s not feasible.”

Would it be true to say that The Guitar Circle book you have coming out in September isn’t what you might call a conventional guitar tutor?

“Correct. It’s the attitude. It’s less what you do, it’s more how you do and why you do. We’ve now had guitar courses since March 1985 and the book is essentially a report on the history of Guitar Craft and the Guitar Circle to date. If you’re looking for a book of guitar exercises, this is not the way to go.

“People who have a background in martial arts feel an immediate affinity with Guitar Craft in the Guitar Circle. One character said to a pal of mine it’s like martial arts with a guitar. I’ve a little tai chi, some muay Thai. Here, your response is governed by the intentionality of the person with whom you’re sparring. If you wait for them to make a move you’re on the floor. 

“What you respond to is their intention. How we respond to someone’s intention before there’s any movement at all is a subtle thing. How to explain that? That falls under the heading of ‘cosmic horse shit’. The point is, it can very easily be experienced.

“Guitar Craft was basically developing a personal discipline with a guitar. The Guitar Circle is developing a personal discipline within others. We’re learning to work with others and with ourself. In a sense it’s a maturing and a development within a social context.

“One of the difficulties I’ve had doing interviews over a period of 53 years with guitar magazines is that just about everything that is real with me in terms of how I experience and engage with music and other musicians is subtle. If I’m explaining it in bold terms, it falls under the heading of cosmic horse shit. 

“One of the important principles in this is ‘accept nothing that someone is telling you, presenting you, judge by your own experience’. When someone comes into a Guitar Circle, don’t take Robert’s view of what might be happening for yourself, what is your experience?”

Fernandes Gold Custom

• Robert Fripp’s 32-disc boxset, Exposures, is out now, via DGM/Panegyric. The Guitar Circle book will be released on 1 September via Panegyric Publishing in association with Discipline Global Mobile.

What have you been watching over the summer? No prizes for guessing evening viewing habits in the Fripp/Willcox household, as this week, Robert and Toyah have tackled Limp Bizkit’s seminal 1999 nu-metal slam Nookie – one of the defining tracks of Woodstock ’99, documented by Netflix’s recent, and quite, quite excellent, Trainwreck documentary.

We’ve seen the King Crimson prog icon perform some unlikely material during the couple’s long-running Sunday Lunch series – not least classics from Rage Against the Machine, Queens of the Stone Age and Green Day – but nothing could quite prepare us for the sight of Fripp digging into Wes Borland’s pit-churning drop-tuned riffs while Toyah handles those love ’em or hate ’em Fred Durst lyrics.

And yes, that is a sideways, diamante-adorned baseball cap atop the head of one of the most innovative guitarists the instrument has ever known.

Rather than drop his customary Fernandes single-cuts down to Borland-approved tunings, Fripp turns to one of his signature double-locking Stealth models, which are built by the UK’s Crimson Guitars.

It’s hard to be sure what version of the guitar is being used during the clip, but we can tell you that the Stealth models tend to be fairly tricked out, with examples boasting a custom-made ball bearing tremolo system, Graph Tech Ghost piezo system with hexaphonic MIDI, plus Fripp’s beloved Fernandes Sustainer system and a set of bespoke pickups. You can check out all of that in the demo below.

In a recent exclusive interview with Guitarist magazine, Fripp described his approach to the instrument as “What would Hendrix sound like playing the Bartók String Quartets?” Good to know there’s room for a few nu-metal floor fillers within that philosophy.

Robert Fripp and Toyah Willcox have covered Rage Against The Machine’s Killing in the Name in their latest Sunday Lunch session.

In the footage, the couple perform in front of hand-painted sign quoting a phrase from poet/musician Gil Scott-Heron, “The first revolution is when you change your mind.”

Fripp and Willcox’s rendition is somewhat abridged, as ever, but manages to pack in the meatiest riffs from Rage’s original protest anthem and concludes with a single ‘Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me’, as opposed to Zack de la Rocha’s rousing 16 repetitions.

Throughout the performance Willcox daubs herself in red paint, in what is either a symbolic invocation of the bloodied hands of unnamed oppressors, or pure visual effect – or, er, both. 

Rage vocalist Zack de la Rocha originally wrote the lines that would become the band’s calling card in response to institutionalised racism and police brutality – in particular the beating of Rodney King by the LAPD in 1991, which sparked the 1992 LA riots. 

Tom Morello, meanwhile, came up with the iconic central riff while teaching a student how to play in drop-D tuning before he wisely stopped his session to get it on tape. 

However, the song is best known for its infamous closing refrain, which has since helped it become a soundtrack for rebellions of all scales – from issues of social injustice to disrupting Simon Cowell’s pop chart monopoly. 

It seems like Rage Against The Machine are a resurgent force at the moment. In addition, to the Fripp and Willcox endorsement, Limp Bizkit recently covered Killing In The Name onstage in Wilkes-Barre, PA, while RATM teased their live return last week by sharing a thunderous clip from their rehearsal sessions ahead of their summer tour.

Robert Fripp and Toyah Willcox continue to offer up compellingly non-essential viewing every week with their Sunday Lunch cover videos, and this week’s instalment sees them take on Radiohead’s monster hit, Creep.

It is another expert choice from a couple of much-loved weirdos – a fact somewhat underlined this week by Willcox’s decision to don Seran wrap costumery (don’t try this at home, please). This is Sunday Lunch, after all, so we suppose its only appropriate to incorporate kitchen-based materials. The scene is completed with a lovingly-crafted “Fripp’s a creep” sign.

Notably, the couple’s latest unhinged cover sees Fripp bring in a little bit of (admittedly, very wispy) distortion for the chorus, so perhaps we can expect a few more flourishes on the effects front down the line.

Creep originally featured on Radiohead’s 1993 debut album Pablo Honey and was the track that broke the band worldwide. The group disavowed and refused to play it live from 1998 – sometimes despite baying audiences. They have since appeared to come to terms with its popularity and perform it at selected shows, like their 2017 headline slot at Glastonbury festival in the UK.

As noted in Alex Ross’ 2001 New Yorker profile, the song, like many early Radiohead tracks, makes good use of pivot tones – i.e. holding one note of a chord and then forming a new one around it.

“Yeah, that's my only trick,” Thom Yorke jokes in the same piece. “I’ve got one trick and that's it, and I'm really going to have to learn a new one. Pedals, banging away through everything…”

Robert Fripp and Toyah Willcox's Sunday Lunch series – in each example of which the King Crimson electric guitar legend and his wife cover a hard-rock song in their kitchen – has become quite the pandemic-era tradition.

This past weekend saw the dynamic duo take on Queens of the Stone Age's hard-hitting 2002 classic, No One Knows. It's loose, freewheeling and off-the-cuff but – as always with these two – a fun watch. You can see it above.

Though they're occasionally somewhat serious – their version of Neil Young's Rockin’ In The Free World, for instance, was recorded to show support for the people of Ukraine – the Sunday Lunch covers are mainly an opportunity for Fripp (the author of a guitar solo so intricate and complicated it took one dedicated player 22 years to fully master it) and Wilcox to have some fun.

That said, though, Fripp has gone on record saying that preparing songs for the Sunday Lunch series gave him a new appreciation for the giants of hard-rock guitar.

“They’re all utterly stunning things,” he told Rolling Stone of the riffs in the songs he covers with Wilcox. “I’m blown away by the original guitarists on these tracks. Phenomenal development and playing primarily since the late ‘70s and early ‘80s, Van Halen onwards. Steve Vai, Satriani, the Metallica boys… The originators of the riffs are phenomenal players."

Fripp has a history with Vai and Satriani in particular, having shared the stage with them as part of the 2004 G3 tour. 

In a recently-published interview with Guitar Player, Satriani revealed that Fripp requested complete anonymity for the G3 shows.

“When he joined up, he insisted that he not be listed, and he wanted to play before the show," Satriani said.

“He said, 'Look, don’t turn the lights on. I’m going to sit behind all the amps, and I’m going to play music as people walk into the venue and find their seats. And don’t mention my name.' It’s what he wanted to do. 

“Sometimes [bassist] Stu Hamm would play with him unannounced,” Satch continued. “He’d just come out, sit right next to Robert and he’d play along, or some of the other guys would play. It was really quite beautiful. Robert is such a wonderful human being and an incredible musician.”

Best of 2022: Over the course of the past 20-plus years, Joe Satriani has masterminded a total of 18 G3 concert tours around the world, which have seen the shred legend join forces with some of the best electric guitar players on the planet.

Since the inaugural tour took place in 1996, the list of guest guitarists has expanded to include Steve Vai, Eric Johnson, Paul Gilbert, Steve Lukather, Yngwie Malmsteen, Kenny Wayne Shepherd, Brian May, Guthrie Govan, Andy Timmons, Phil Collen and many, many more.

One G3 collaborator who especially sticks in Satriani’s memory, though, is Robert Fripp, who apparently insisted on a number of “interesting” stage demands after he signed on to appear at the 2004 edition of the tour.

When asked in the latest issue of Guitar Player – which features a joint in-depth interview with G3 vets Satriani, Vai and Johnson – whether there had been any instances when he was unsure about how the lineup would work, Satch singled out Fripp’s strange demands.

“Well, one of the most interesting characters was Robert Fripp, beyond a doubt,” he reflected. “When he joined up, he insisted that he not be listed, and he wanted to play before the show. 

“He said, 'Look, don’t turn the lights on. I’m going to sit behind all the amps, and I’m going to play music as people walk into the venue and find their seats. And don’t mention my name.' It’s what he wanted to do. 

“Sometimes [bassist] Stu Hamm would play with him unannounced,” Satch continued. “He’d just come out, sit right next to Robert and he’d play along, or some of the other guys would play. It was really quite beautiful. Robert is such a wonderful human being and an incredible musician.”

Despite Fripp’s downright bizarre conditions, footage from the event shows Satch did indeed cater to (most of) the King Crimson legend’s demands. In the video above, which predominantly shows Vai and Satch situated in the spotlight, an unlit Fripp can be seen standing near the rear of the stage shrouded in darkness.

In fact, such was the strength of Fripp’s desire to remain anonymous, he even remained completely submerged in the shadows while offering up his own guitar solo contribution during a rendition of Neil Young’s Rockin’ in the Free World – seen at the 3:50 mark in the video above. Alas, despite Fripp’s request, Satch did indeed give him a shout-out at the end of the set.

Other footage from ‘04 paints a similarly entertaining picture. Elsewhere in the event, Satch and Vai stole the spotlight to shred away over the former’s Ice 9, while Fripp, who remained true to his word, can just about be spotted sitting behind the amps towards the back of the stage.

He did, however, at least have the light on him for that occasion, meaning attendees got a good look at his frenetic left-hand fretboard migrations.

“We did a couple of other tours together,” Satch added, “just me, Steve and Robert playing the blues or something. It was hysterical, and he was fearless about that. He was Robert Fripp to the very end.”

Eric Johnson – who was speaking to Guitar Player alongside Satriani – had a similar recollection, commenting, “I was actually thinking of Robert Fripp when Joe mentioned him, because it was like, ‘Wow, that’s different!’ 

“He was definitely coming from left field, I think,” Johnson reflected. “But it was beautiful and cool. People really enjoyed it, too. I thought it sounded great. A lot of people told me, ‘Hey, have you heard Robert play with the G3 thing?’ They thought it was great.”

Head over to Magazines Direct to pick up the latest issue Guitar Player, which features the full in-depth interview with Joe Satriani, Steve Vai and Eric Johnson.

Toyah Willcox and Robert Fripp have shared their cover of The Who’s Won’t Get Fooled Again, the latest installment in their ongoing Sunday Lunch series. 

The Who’s initial version was released as a single in June 1971 and had originally been intended for inclusion in an unfinished rock opera penned by guitarist Pete Townshend. 

The ‘lost’ opera was to be called Lifehouse and was meant to be a spiritual inheritor to the iconic Tommy. Won't Get Fooled Again was intended to close the collection, but it was instead released as an edited three-minute single, before the full eight-minute version was included on the band’s August 1971 album Who’s Next?

Willcox and Fripp’s version of Won’t Get Fooled Again channels their characteristic blend of lunacy and semi-nudity in a back-to-basics take on the track that it is fair to say varies somewhat from the original.

This week they’ve also seen fit to include a reel of bloopers, which shows the masterful Fripp fluffing the main riff multiple times. Suffice to say, it is quite a reassuring watch from the point of view of the common-or-garden player…

Notably, the post appeared a day after comments from Who frontman Roger Daltrey regarding the UK’s exit from the EU. Daltrey was a vocal supporter of Brexit but told The Independent (via Yahoo) that he was “disappointed we haven’t made the most of it.”

However, despite the well-documented difficulties the UK’s separation from Europe has presented to touring acts, the rock icon maintained he didn’t regret supporting the campaign.

“They’re making life hard for us, I don’t disagree,” he said. “It doesn’t need to be. One truck goes into Europe full of equipment with a carnet, it’s not hard to get visas, is it? It shouldn’t be. We used to do it regularly in the ’60s and ’70s.”

It’s unclear whether Willcox and Fripp’s post was intended as a direct response to Daltrey’s comments, but the timing and track selection certainly begs the question… It wouldn't be the first time they've made political statements, or covered The Who on Sunday Lunch, for that matter...

Given that Anthony Garone wrote an entire book dedicated to mastering King Crimson’s 1974 epic Fracture, one of the most notoriously difficult guitar pieces in all of prog-rock, you’d think he’d have a mind-blowing story of hearing that string-skipping behemoth for the first time. 

But as a 16-year-old with an insatiable appetite for riffs, he initially considered it just another musical meal.

“I didn’t think about Fracture as a song,” he tells Guitar World. “I thought, ‘This is food for a guitarist.’ It was calories in, calories out. I remember I had a Sony Discman, and I put it on. I didn’t even listen to the song. I paused it every few seconds and played the notes that I heard. It was such an arrogant and youthful folly thing to do. 

“That’s how I approached it, like puzzle pieces that were almost meaningless to me. Fracture was like anything else – it didn’t matter if it sounded cool. It was purely like, ‘Can I figure this out?’” 

The simple answer: yes and no. Garone has spent 22 frustrating and eye-opening years attempting to decode the 11-minute composition (particularly the three-minute section defined by Robert Fripp’s “moto perpetuo” technique) – a challenge demonstrated on his YouTube channel Make Weird Music, and later in his densely packed memoir-meets-instructional-guide Failure to Fracture. 

Within, Garone details the technical expertise he acquired in pursuit of learning Fracture – including wisdom bestowed by Fripp himself during a week-long instructional course in 2015.

• Robert Fripp’s 20 greatest guitar moments

One day, the guitarist told his students, “Spend eight hours a day picking one open string, and then we can have a conversation.” Garone laughs at the memory: “It’s like when you hear these nutrition experts saying, ‘All you’ve gotta do is cut sugar out of your diet!’” 

Of course, nothing is easy about Fracture. “What people misunderstand is you’re not playing 10 or 11 notes per second – you’re changing strings 10 or 11 notes per second,” he says. “You have to be a robot.” 

And that analytical approach suits Garone, a prolific transcriber and tinkerer. “I’ve just always had that engineering mindset where it’s something to pick apart,” he says.

“But man, if you get me listening to Jupiter by Gustav Holst, I’ll still tear up after how many listens. I look at Crimson – and any other music – as half-emotional and half-architectural.”

• Failure to Fracture: Learning King Crimson's Impossible Song is out now via Stairway Press.

Robert Fripp is widely hailed as the king of progressive rock guitar – but he squirms visibly under that crown. In 2014, asked by Classic Rock if he’s always taken issue with King Crimson’s “prog” label, he made his feelings blatantly clear: “Yes, it’s a prison,” he said. “If you walk on stage and you’re playing music, fine. But if you’re walking on stage and you’re playing progressive rock – death.” 

In a way, that discomfort makes sense. As King Crimson’s key guiding force – and lone consistent member – since their debut LP, 1969’s In the Court of the Crimson King, Fripp has typically veered away from popular tropes and trends. 

Across 13 studio albums (along with a smattering of EPs and live records), he’s evolved from the band’s early pseudo-symphonic style to infuse the avant-garde, classical, borderline jazz-fusion, free improvisation, heavy metal, New Wave, industrial and multi-drummer mayhem. No style has ever been off limits, and every Crimson era is an island unto itself. 

You can attribute much of that range to Fripp’s vision as a bandleader: no other rock musician is more willing to call it quits, embark on an extended hiatus and start from scratch with a new lineup. (And few have recruited so well for a particular artistic aim; it’s hard to imagine King Crimson’s sleeker ’80s revamp without the two American recruits, singer-guitarist Adrian Belew and bassist Tony Levin.)

After all, Crimson have never been a guitar-first band – it’s almost always been about ensemble composition, using the unique tools of the musicians in his company.

“If you listen to King Crimson’s records, you realize the guitar playing has always been one of the smallest things that the band does,” Fripp told Guitar Player in 1974. “One of the reasons for that is I’ve always been more happy in developing the other musicians; developing them as players.”

• Robert Fripp in-depth: his quest to combine Hendrix and Bartók, what made King Crimson “problematic” and why he has “no interest in gear at all”

Democratic function aside, a great deal of Crimson’s endurance does boil down to Fripp’s creativity and prowess on guitar. He started playing at 11, learning on a right-handed instrument, despite being left-handed – and in a way, that was a bit of foreshadowing.

He’s always been keen to experiment, to approach the guitar from an unlikely vantage point: devising an overlapping playing system with Belew in the ’80s, utilizing unconventional harmonies and rhythms, creating the tape delay technique known as “Frippertronics,” inventing New Standard Tuning (C/G/D/A/E/G), which he teaches students at his Guitar Craft courses.

And Fripp’s non-Crimson resumé is equally versatile. As a guest player (and occasional producer), he’s worked with art-rock giants (Peter Gabriel, Talking Heads), bona-fide pop stars (Daryl Hall, Blondie), prog bands (Van Der Graaf Generator, Matching Mole) and folk acts (the Roches) – not to mention his slightly under-the-radar solo projects and innovative collaborations with Brian Eno. 

It would be impossible to fully survey the breadth of Fripp’s style in one semi-concise list. But in a modest attempt to highlight the imagination and influence of his guitar playing, we’ve selected 20 essential, career-spanning moments – from Frippertronic soundscapes to metallic riffs, from arpeggiated acoustic reveries to feedback fireworks.

20. Sky – Robert Fripp, from 1996’s Radiophonics (1995 Soundscapes Volume 1 – Live in Argentina) 

It’s fair to say Fripp diehards are an open-minded bunch, but many faithful found their patience tested with the guitarist’s Soundscapes series, which ranges from atonal ambience to peaceful meditations like Sky. 

The track, the final movement from his live Buenos Aires Suite, is masterfully constructed, each sliver of tone bleeding in a color, like sun pouring in through a stained-glass window. By the piece’s end, you’ve lost all sense of timing and chord sequence, just allowing yourself to soar through the kaleidoscope.

19. The Zero of the Signified: Robert Fripp, from 1980’s God Save the Queen/Under Heavy Manners

Fripp continued to refine his Frippertronic experiments on his second solo LP – and he pushes hardest on its funkier second side, Under Heavy Manners, combining layered guitar textures and driving, four-on-the-floor rhythm sections into a style he dubbed “Discotronics.” 

At just under 13 minutes, closer The Zero of the Dignified isn’t exactly an easy listen – the ever-repeating lead guitar lick, a six-note motif similar to the cyclical pattern on King Crimson’s Frame by Frame, is a catalyst for hypnosis or anxiety, depending on one’s mood.

But the entire guitar arrangement is subtly, almost subconsciously, cinematic, as those industrial-tinged loops zoom past like menacing storm clouds.

18. I Advance Masked: Andy Summers & Robert Fripp, from 1982’s I Advance Masked

It may seem like an unlikely pairing on paper, but Fripp and Police guitarist Andy Summers found a fascinating stylistic middle ground on I Advance Masked, the first of the pair’s two collaborative LPs.

The centerpiece is the opening title track, contrasting Summers’ chiming Synchronicity-era tones with Fripp’s dizzying chromatic runs over a muted kick drum pulse. “I would say the I Advance Masked album,” Fripp told Guitar Player in 1986, “was a matter of research and development and arts and crafts, and of professional musicians working honorably.” 

No doubt about that. It’s familiar territory for both of them, but the record occupies its own unique little corner in both of their catalogs.

17. Upon This Earth: David Sylvian, from 1986’s Gone to Earth 

Fripp found a simpatico collaborator in David Sylvian, former frontman of art-pop band Japan; they worked together on multiple tours and even recorded a 1993 LP, The First Day, billed under both of their names. 

But Fripp also added some reliably evocative guitar to Sylvian’s sprawling double-LP Gone to Earth, including an array of atmospheric tones on Upon This Earth. Over a reverb-smothered two-chord pattern of slide guitar and piano, the Crimson leader squeaks out some pristine birdsong that elevates the track into the stratosphere.

16. Hammond Song: The Roches, from 1979’s The Roches

Fripp was wildly prolific during the break between King Crimson’s 1974 disbandment and 1981 reinvention: recording solo work, making plenty of studio cameos, producing a handful of classic records. In one of his oft-forgotten collaborations, he helmed The Roches, the American folk-rock trio’s self-titled debut – a project that arose after Fripp saw the group perform in New York and, impressed by what he saw, volunteered his services. 

His instrumental touch is minimal throughout the album, mostly relegated to occasional ambiance. But one standout contribution, the breathtaking guitar break on Hammond Song, is a highlight from the entire pre/post-Crimson era. 

His understated solo, a series of snaking patterns and sustained tones (cutely credited here as “Fripperies”), brings a glimpse of the ethereal to an otherwise earthly ballad. (Bonus factoid: Levin, the guitarist’s future bandmate, also appears on The Roches, giving King Crimson diehards another reason to seek this one out.)

15. Heroes: David Bowie, from 1977’s Heroes 

It could be Bowie’s crowning achievement, but Heroes wouldn’t reach such lofty heights without Fripp’s subtle, yet essential, guitar work. Compared to the ornate Frippertronics or rapid-fire picking that define much of his catalog, the two-note phrase at this song’s core might seem pedestrian by comparison. 

But it’s hard to imagine a guitarist drawing out more emotion from those two notes – sustained bursts of tone that are essentially as famous as Bowie’s own vocal melody. And it’s not like Fripp just tossed off his cameo; as producer Tony Visconti told Sound on Sound, he used a “fine science” to craft his part, measuring the distance between his guitar and the speaker to create a perfect feedback for each note he played.

14. Sartori in Tangier: King Crimson, from 1982’s Beat

Of King Crimson’s early ’80s trilogy, Beat is often the most overlooked – arriving after the bold New Wave-prog evolution of Discipline, this album was naturally a little less radical.

But the band continued to experiment with fascinating results: Take, for example, the instrumental Sartori in Tangier, in which Fripp’s violin-like leads pirouette over the hypnotically funky groove built on Levin’s thumping Chapman Stick and Bill Bruford’s clacking percussion.

It sounds like no other Crimson song – or really any other song, period. “The music was very stage-friendly,” Bruford told the DGM site. “[I]t had its own internal musical drama which worked well in that environment and it was a complete groove to play live. Nightly I could look forward to Robert’s solo at the end of [Sartori in Tangier].”

13. Evening Star: Fripp & Eno, from 1975’s Evening Star

On their second collaborative project, Fripp and Eno saved their most experimental tendencies for the six-part, 28-minute closer An Index of Metals. But side one is soothing and placid, particularly on the twinkling title track: Fripp’s sustained leads bob calmly amid the waves of clean strumming and pinging harmonics, occasionally joined by Eno’s synths. It’s an atmosphere as serene as the misty mountain-like landscape on the album cover.

12. Baby’s on Fire: Brian Eno, from 1974’s Here Come the Warm Jets

Brian Eno ratchets up the tension throughout this warped glam-pop oddity, singing bratty lines over a tick-tock hi-hat and out-of-tune, two-chord pulse that slowly worms its way under your skin. 

It’s unsettling and somewhat hilarious, but the song achieves classic status only through Fripp’s contribution: he goes wild as the piece grinds on, sparking off some of his most conventionally bluesy and metallic playing, adding feedback and seasick bent notes to the recipe.

11. Swastika Girls II: Fripp & Eno, from 1973’s (No Pussyfooting)

Swastika Girls II is like the evil cousin of The Heavenly Music Corporation, closing out (No Pussyfooting), Fripp’s debut collaboration with ambient master Eno, with a transcendental swath of VSC-3 synthesizer, clean picking and laser-beam leads. 

The guitarist’s showpiece solo, laid out over the duo’s signature tape loops, is both evocative and discordant, occasionally adopting an Eastern feel. 

Radical stuff – and it apparently arose in the magic of the moment: “Brian set up the looping in the control booth,” he wrote in his DGM Live diary, “and, after five minutes of listening to the looping playing in to the multi-track, I walked into the studio, strapped on [and] wailed out.”

10. Breathless: Robert Fripp, from 1979’s Exposure

Breathless is a lost classic in the Fripp oeuvre, a stylistic hybrid between the metallic crunch of King Crimson’s Red, the textural soundscapes of his Eno collaborations and the sort of New Wave-leaning sleekness he’d perfect with Crimson’s ’80s lineup in just a couple years. 

Few of his riffs punch with such heavyweight force, ascending the scale over the funky, bombastic rhythm section of drummer Narada Michael Walden and bassist/future bandmate Levin. Fripp is clearly fond of the tune, having revived it onstage in 2017 with Crimson’s triple-drummer lineup.

9. Exiles: King Crimson, from 1973’s Larks’ Tongues in Aspic

This starlit ballad is one of the few ’70s Crimson tunes not dominated by Fripp’s electric guitar. But that’s precisely what makes it such a balanced tune, allowing plenty of space for Mellotron, John Wetton’s melodic bass and almost-too-high-for-his-range belting, David Cross’s violin and Bruford’s minimalist drumming. 

Fripp mostly sticks to the acoustic, a rarity for this era – and his sublime arpeggios add a sense of poignancy that fits the track. Of course, he also squeezes in a tasteful electric solo at the end – the icing on this multi-layered cake.

8. Starless: King Crimson, from 1974’s Red 

Red’s 12-minute closing epic fell dangerously close to the cutting room floor – according to Wetton, Fripp and Bruford weren’t impressed with the initial version presented during rehearsal for 1974’s Starless and Bible Black. (A meandering instrumental essentially took that song’s place on the record.)

But after some expanding the sax-laced ballad with some new, menacing sections and workshopping the tune onstage, Starless wound up as a classic in the Crim oeuvre.

Fripp covers a wide stylistic range here: tackling the haunting main theme, ratcheting up the tension midway through with a series of one-note phrases in two-string bundles, adding some jarring riffs that sound like error messages from malfunctioning robots.

7. The Night Watch: King Crimson, from 1974’s Starless and Bible Black

It’s a lost Crimson masterpiece, arriving midway through one of the band’s strangest and most misunderstood albums, Starless and Bible Black. 

Much of that project was built on improvised live recordings that were later tweaked and augmented in the studio – and as such, long stretches of its runtime are challenging to traditional prog fans, defined by loose instrumental explorations more than conventional riffs and choruses. 

But The Night Watch is an exception to that meandering vibe – a showcase for King Crimson’s melodic side and wide band dynamics. Cross’ weepy violin and Wetton’s melancholy vocal grab you immediately, but Fripp is the MVP: he opens with frenzied tremolo strumming that dissolves into gorgeous harmonics and sweeping, vibrato-heavy leads.

6. 21st Century Schizoid Man: King Crimson, from 1969’s In the Court of the Crimson King

Robert Fripp’s legend was born with 21st Century Schizoid Man, the iconic opening track from King Crimson’s debut LP. Of course, the strength lies in the full-band attack – from Michael Giles’ spasmodic drum fills to Ian McDonald’s menacing saxophones to Greg Lake’s throat-ripping vocal to Peter Sinfield’s war-torn lyric. 

“For me, it was group writing,” Fripp told Rolling Stone in 2019. “And it wouldn’t have been possible without those five young men.” But Fripp’s guitar is certainly on fire here, whether it’s firing off chunky chords, screaming in unison with Lake’s opening bass riff or gliding through the jazzy section with fuzzy leads and palm-muted melodies.

5. St. Elmo’s Fire: Eno, from 1975’s Another Green World

Few musicians think more conceptually about sound than Eno. Legend has it that, while recording this oceanic art-pop tune, he challenged Fripp to channel the sound of a Wimshurst machine, the electrostatic generator created in the late 1800s. 

Whether or not he succeeded in that task is irrelevant: Eno’s unique request prompted one of the guitarist’s most thunderous, violently aggressive solos – a torrential downpour of notes that balances out the song’s overall sweetness. (On the final LP sleeve, he was credited with “Wimshurst guitar”.)

4. Level Five: King Crimson, from 2003’s The Power to Believe

By 2003, Fripp and Belew had crystallized a distinctive guitar symmetry, a sort of sonic telepathy refined through years of rehearsal and performance. King Crimson’s 13th LP, The Power to Believe, featured many of their signature moves, including a more aggressive, textured take on the interlocking style they’d perfected in the early ’80s. 

And Level Five is the pinnacle of their work in this more metallic arena: Check out how they harmonize in the first verse and enter into a lockstep back and forth over Pat Mastelotto’s glitchy electronic percussion, followed by chunky call-and-response riffs and ascending shredding.

3. Larks’ Tongues in Aspic, Part Two: King Crimson, from 1973’s Larks’ Tongues in Aspic

“The question I posed myself might be put like this: ‘What would Hendrix sound like playing the ROS or a Bartok string quartet?’” Fripp wrote in his online diary in 2001. It’s an audacious query – and it resulted in one of King Crimson’s most distinctive achievements: the two-part piece that bookends the band’s fifth LP. 

The second half is the heart-stopper: Fripp piles up sheets of distortion that rise and fall in intensity, his instrument often interwoven with Cross’s violin and Wetton’s bass to create a snarling monster of strings.

“If an older man might look back at this and be struck by that young man’s arrogance,” Fripp wrote, “well, an ignorance of limitations sometimes allows the young of any age to achieve impossible things!” 

2. Frame by Frame: King Crimson, from 1981’s Discipline

When Fripp answered the call of King Crimson in the early ’80s, he found himself operating with a new array of influences and sonic tools: the at-turns delicate and quirky vocal stylings of Belew, Levin’s octave-spanning Chapman Stick, the possibilities of a dual-guitar attack, the gloss of New Wave and the interwoven ensemble complexity derived from gamelan music.

Frame by Frame is an essential showcase for all of the above, with Fripp and Belew teaming for a brain-rattling pattern where the guitarists briefly diverge into two different meters, only to align once more. 

1. Fracture: King Crimson, from 1974’s Starless and Bible Black

“Fracture is impossible to play,” Fripp wrote in his online diary in 2016. For most people, that’s 100 percent accurate. But Fripp is not most people: he mastered the 11-minute instrumental for King Crimson’s sixth studio LP, and he’s played it dozens of times onstage – a remarkable feat of mental, physical and perhaps even psychological endurance. 

The crux of Fracture, of course, is the three-minute section featuring his “moto perpetuo” (“perpetual motion”) technique, wherein his flurries of string-skipped notes unfurl over a dynamic rhythm section. 

Fracture may not be “impossible to play”, but it’s been a challenge, even for Fripp: “It took a year to bring my [practicing] up to speed, as it were,” he wrote, “and four months directly and specifically on Fracture. My wife had quite enough after a few weeks, so I had to lock the door to the cellar where I practice.” 

Staying in Fracture-ready shape may be a lifelong commitment – but all that matters is that he nailed it in the studio. One of rock’s most technically challenging pieces never sounds like rote muscle-flexing – in Fripp’s busy hands, the whiplash comes off as graceful.  

Robert Fripp and Toyah Willcox have posted their latest Sunday Lunch update, a cover of Green Day’s Basket Case.

The clip follows last week’s instalment from the Fripp family kitchen, a cover of Neil Young’s Rockin’ In The Free World, which was intended as a show of support for the people of Ukraine. 

The Basket Case post, in contrast, has a little more in common with the light-hearted, ludicrous nature of their past viral hits, and sees Willcox perform inside a basket (see what they did there?) and then accompany Fripp by beating a drum with two eggplants. 

You’d think we’d be bored with this now, but – given the continuing news landscape – it remains a joy and inspiration to see a detail-obsessed player like Fripp get his sillies out (albeit with a deadpan expression). And let’s just say that what it lacks in rhythmic precision it makes up for in, well, eggplants.

As ever, there is a more heartfelt message behind the larking about, in this case: “May your basket overflow with love.”

Meanwhile, Green Day have become one of an ever-increasing number of bands who have cancelled shows in Russia. The band announced a fortnight back that they were pulling the Moscow leg of their Hella Mega Tour with Fall Out Boy and Weezer, which had been scheduled for May 29 the city’s 45,000-cap Spartak Stadium. 

“We are aware that this moment is not about stadium rock shows,” said the band. “It’s much bigger than that. But we also know that rock and roll is forever and we feel confident there will be a time and a place for us to return in the future.”

Robert Fripp and Toyah Willcox have posted a cover of Neil Young’s Rockin’ in the Free World in a show of support for the people of Ukraine.

The video sees Fripp, wearing the blue and yellow colors of Ukraine, accompanied by Willcox on vocals and wielding what we can only describe as a percussive skirt.

In the background are hand-painted signs that read: “A free world for all is the dog bollocks” [that’s British slang for “the best” or “very good”, don’t ask why – UK Ed] and “Neil Young. 1989. Freedom.”

Rockin’ In The Free World was written by Neil Young in February 1989 and recorded in June of that year. It was reportedly conceived after the songwriter learned that a planned tour of the Soviet Union had been cancelled by the authorities. 

The title line came from Young’s guitarist Frank ‘Poncho’ Sampedro. “It just fell through,” Sampedro told Rolling Stone in 2013. “Neil was like, ‘Damn, I really wanted to go.’ I said, ‘Me too. I guess we’ll have to keep on rockin’ in the free world.’”

The song has been hailed as Young’s best of that decade and had an immediate resonance, both in songwriter’s own career and as an influence and role model for other musicians. His timing was also superb: the album was released in October and the Berlin Wall fell in November.

As music writer Barney Hoskyns puts it in his book Ragged Glories: “Rockin’ In The Free World made young both the elder statesman of rock rebellion and the godfather of the new punk rock – grunge.”

Fripp and Willcox’s interpretation perhaps lacks some of that impact, but is still as scratchy, endearing and make-up clad as the duo’s finest Sunday Lunch efforts. It is also among their most poignant posts yet. 

At the close of the short clip, Fripp sums up their intentions: “Sunday Lunch, for everyone in the world, free, with love.”

King Crimson have had a colorful, 50+-year reign near the top of the prog-rock heap.

Now, a new documentary – In the Court of the Crimson King – seeks to untangle the group's complicated history, and the relationships of members past and present with the group's sole constant member, electric guitar innovator Robert Fripp. 

You can take a look at a new trailer for the film – which was directed by Toby Amies, and is set to make its world premiere at the 2022 SXSW film festival in Austin – below.

In the Court of the Crimson King primarily follows the latest iteration of the band during their 2019 50th Anniversary tour. Over the decades, King Crimson have broken up and subsequently reformed again – often with a dramatically different lineup – a number of times, with Fripp always at the center. From the looks of the trailer, In the Court of the Crimson King doesn't shy away from this rocky history.

“This is the first King Crimson where there’s not at least one member of the band that actively resents my presence,“ Fripp says at one point. “Which is astonishing.”

Aside from Fripp and members of the group's current lineup, the film also includes interviews with musicians from previous iterations of the band, such as former drummer Bill Bruford and Adrian Belew, who spent over a decade in total with the band as a singer and guitarist.

In the trailer, Bruford points to King Crimson as "the dream band viewed from outside," while Belew paints a less rosy picture, saying “When I came back from making some of that music, my hair had fallen out.”

For more info on when and where In the Court of the Crimson King will be screened at the SXSW festival, head on over to the SXSW website.

Aside from his day job touring with King Crimson, Fripp has also spent the last year and a half or so becoming an unlikely viral sensation for his Sunday Lunch series of off-beat covers with his wife, Toyah Wilcox.

In the process of taking on songs by the likes of Mötley Crüe and Metallica, Fripp said he gained a new appreciation for the giants of hard-rock guitar.

“They’re all utterly stunning things,” he told Rolling Stone of the riffs in the songs he covered with Wilcox. “I’m blown away by the original guitarists on these tracks. Phenomenal development and playing primarily since the late ‘70s and early ‘80s, Van Halen onwards. Steve Vai, Satriani, the Metallica boys… The originators of the riffs are phenomenal players."