Released in December 1970,
King Crimson
's third studio album,
Lizard
, is often viewed as an outlier in the pioneering British prog outfit's nearly half-century discography. It's not easily grouped with 1969's stunning
In the Court of the Crimson King
debut and 1970 follow-up
In the Wake of Poseidon
, and along with 1971's
Islands
it's considered a transitional release on the band's path toward the relative stability of the
Larks' Tongues in Aspic
(1973),
Starless and Bible Black
(1974), and
Red
(1974) trilogy. Plus, the
sessions were difficult and the core group lineup acrimoniously collapsed immediately afterward, as bandleader/guitarist
Robert Fripp
, with lyricist
Peter Sinfield
, continued brave efforts to save
from disintegrating as the group's lengthy history was just getting underway. Even
Fripp
himself wasn't a big
fan until he reportedly "heard the Music in the music" when listening to
Steven Wilson
's 2009 40th anniversary remix. Yet there are plenty of
Crimson
followers who place
at the very apex of the group's recorded legacy -- and with good reason. Seamlessly blending rock, jazz, and classical in a way that few albums have successfully achieved,
is epic, intimate, cacophonic, and subtle by turn -- and infused with the dark moods first heard when "21st Century Schizoid Man" and "Epitaph" reached listeners' ears the previous year.
Opener "Cirkus" is a cavalcade of menace, with vocalist
Gordon Haskell
intoning or declaiming
Sinfield
's phantasmagorical words over a kaleidoscopic musical backdrop, the song's ripping buzzsaw refrain alternating with warped funhouse jazz prominently featuring keyboardist
Keith Tippett
and saxophonist
Mel Collins
. "Indoor Games" is comparatively whimsical, with
Collins
' blurty sax almost comically up-front in the mix and crisp ensemble interplay in the middle section, while the singsongy "Happy Family" finds
's lyrics obliquely addressing
the Beatles
' breakup and "Lady of the Dancing Water" revisits the gentle terrain of "I Talk to the Wind" and "Cadence and Cascade." But the side-long multi-part title suite astounds the most. Guest
Jon Anderson
's choirboy vocals open "Lizard" with a feint toward the light and airy, but
Haskell
's brassy chorus suggests ritualistic precursors to dark goings-on. The suite then enters its "Bolero" movement, marked by
Robin Miller
's beautiful oboe and
's swelling Mellotron, with a jazz interlude showcasing
, cornetist
Mark Charig
, trombonist
Nick Evans
, and a jagged and explosive
Tippett
, collectively free and even ebullient in their interplay but never fully breaking away from drummer
Andy McCulloch
's background rat-a-tat snare that foreshadows the howling maelstrom of "The Battle of Glass Tears." After the smoke clears,
's sustained guitar notes cut through the funereal aftermath, dissolving into silence before the swirling "Big Top" coda brings the album full circle, suggesting
's dark journey on an endless loop accelerating into the future. In 2016, lineup changes made it possible to include selections from this album in
's career-spanning live concerts, and with all the spectacular music on display, more than one audience member could be heard saying, "I came for
." ~ Dave Lynch