Robert Fripp - That Which Passes

Robert Fripp: guitarist
John Sinks: FOH sound, sound technician

The earlier soundscape CDs have presented the music as live performances, as a series of improvisations and responses to the moment. On this album we have compiled and edited the soundscapes, using them as musical materials fashioned in real time. So, although the music is taken from live performances, it would not have sounded like this in any one performance - although it might have done.....R.F.

A Ton Prob Production by Robert Fripp & David Singleton for Discipline Global Mobile.

Digital editor and mastering engineer: David Singleton

Cover picture: Orange over Cadmium Yellow by John Miller who, contrary to common practice in the art world, owns the copyright in his work. Design ©1996 Bill Smith Studio

Creative lounge music, without the threat of a catchy tune to invade the brain.... The Wire

The final track, A Time To Die, comes as a reward to the patient listener. Seemingly more 'conventionally' structured, it's a beautiful piece of dreamy, modern classical music.... Rock 'n' Reel

No one could ever accuse Robert Fripp of pandering to the masses.... Total Guitar

I
The solo Soundscapes were supported at all the performances by Los Gauchos Allemanes. As in the Californian Soundscape tour of January 1995, where the California Guitar Trio were supporting, Los Gauchos were encouraged to "blow me off". Those generous members of the public who have read the liner notes to "A Blessing of Tears" might recall that: "I would come onstage and play for some 20 - 30 minutes the kind of whirring, bleeping and droning sounds, a selection of which are presented on this record. Then the (generally polite and patient) audience would gratefully embrace something more recognisably musical from ..." during this week, Los Gauchos Allemanes.

The Buenos Aires Guitar Craft Circle, and Crafties from elsewhere in Argentina, provided substantial help and assistance throughout the week. This included busking the queue before the shows, busking the foyer after the shows, and joining myself and Los Gauchos in the middle part of the performance to surround a sizeable proportion of the audience and test its patience, generosity of spirit and listening capacities.

II
Musicians will find support in the community if they provide music which is either needed or wanted.

The current dominant strategy of the music industry is to persuade the public to want a particular piece of music. This is the hard sell. Typically, the artist is engaged in a series of promotional events, such as interviews and personal appearances.

My own view is that Soundscapes aren't much in the way of a product line which accommodates itself to a hard sell. As a musician, I am unable to perform where the performance is only a piece of promotion: this degrades the performance in a subtle way, insults the audience and humiliates the performer. As a professional musician, I am prepared to pretend to powerful creatures of the industry that a performance is promotional. But when I believe it, music will have died inside me.

And it seems rather silly that I should undertake a series of interviews when I have nothing to say; and when 26 years of interviews, two King Crimson Box Set Scrapbooks, numerous lengthy articles and several books provide readily available answers to almost all the questions which are ever asked of me.

Another approach, and a soft sell, is to allow the music to speak for itself. Then, the music reaches its audience gently over whatever period of time it has value or significance. Not all conversations are best carried out by shouting. This approach assumes an informed, alert and enquiring audience; that is, an audience a musician would wish to have. Simply, the music protects itself, its performer and its audience.

III
Soundscapes continue to surprise, excite, educate and instruct me. They are quite amazing. They have the characteristic of being true to the moment in which they are performed. That is, they honour this key principle: act in accordance with time, place and person.

Towards the end of the week at the Goethe Institute, Soundscapes were developing in a way which was beginning to alarm me. The audiences in Argentina have been as generous and supportive as any I have known anywhere the world, and more than most. As the week unfolded its surprises, I began to be concerned that the generosity of the audience was being tested. This is an unfamiliar music, improvised, presented without guarantees, sometimes unpleasant and often very hard to listen at, to and through. It is not a music which of itself would claim to be entertaining. Rather, it presents challenges to both performer and audience.

I resisted the way in which the Soundscapes were developing, while noticing and acknowledging that this was the way, but went with them. Saturday night was the evening when Soundscapes had moved on, to where you may hear on "Radiophonics": it was irresistible.

IV
When, as punters, we buy a ticket to see a musician we often know some of their professional history; we assume a measure of competence and experience, some training (whether formal or informal) and a sufficient ability.

What may the musician assume of the audience's training, facility and experience in listening?

Clearly, there are different qualities of performance. Equally clearly, there are different qualities of listening. Simply, what we hear is the quality of our listening.

Without attention, we fail to hear what is being played: we hear what we believe is being played. This is automatic listening: we listen AT the music. If our interest is aroused, or attracted, then we may shake hands with the music: we listen TO the music. If we go beyond this, by making the decision to listen THROUGH the music, we invite it into ourselves. Conscious listening is where we stand face to face with music; creative listening is when the music and audience get married - music listens to itself through the ears of the audience, from which it is not apart.

It is unnecessary, for deeper listening, that we like the music. Actually, it is easier to listen when the music is challenging or unfamiliar: our ears are free of seduction. The practical issue, then, is our attention span. Attention does not develop by accident. The greater our capacity to pay attention, the greater our possibility to enter the world of music. Or, to put this another way, the greater the possibility of the world of music entering us.

To be a listener, to become a member of an audience, requires as much training as to become a musician. Listening is active, and our instrument is the ears. How we use our ears is part of the craft of listening.

Music MUST be heard to become real.

V
A musician of any experience is aware, often painfully so, that few audiences cohere to the point of being a unified audience. In any audience, different worlds of listening capacity and hearing competence are present simultaneously.

The atmosphere which surrounds a performance is a subtle envelope which protects the musical event unfolding within it. The energy which is generated in the performance is contained, and intensifies. Then, the performance may shift and lift, and become a very different quality of event.

The audience may, or may not, be an audience. An audience is single, a whole body of people using two ears. A dispersed, fractured audience is a crowd.

Each member of the audience hears their own world of hearing. Within the audience, these different worlds impinge upon each other and interpenetrate. So, in my own solitary deafness, I hear very little of your world of deeper listening. But as it opens to you, it also becomes available to me, and I may find myself suddenly within it. Once I enter this clearer place, I hear with different ears: actually, I am listening through yours. Then, this world of deeper listening grows stronger from my presence within it. In a sense, my discovery of this world re-creates it, and it continues to be in continuous creation for as long as I am able to remain within it.

The subtle atmosphere which surrounds a performance is easily damaged. It is maintained by the contributory presence of the audience and performers and, I must say, the muse. (Hence the aphorism: you can't take the muse out of music). Any act which violates the integrity of the performance punctures the atmosphere and prevents the performance from achieving its potential. In our performance culture many violations, small and great - such as unauthorised photography and recording - are widespread and commonplace.

Where the artist has clearly asked the audience to refrain from trying to capture the event and nail it to the earth, bootlegging (however well-intentioned) is a violation. It is not innocent and offers violence to the performance, artist and other members of the audience. The bootlegger, or surreptitious photographer, place themselves outside the performance and the world in which the performance has value. Then, they are no longer present to the performance. This disrupts the atmosphere and limits the possibilities otherwise available.

Up to a point, the performance is handicapped. Beyond a point, the performance dies. This is written from experience.

Expectation is inevitable. It is also a prison. It has the characteristic that we neither hear what we expect to hear, nor what is available to be heard. Unless we are able to hold our expectations lightly, and then drop them, we fail to enter the present moment in which the performance unfolds. If we are fortunate enough to enter this moment, we discover it is the eternal moment in which all performance is present.

VI
Those of you kind enough to have read this far may, or not, have a sufficient interest to read much of the large and growing library relating to theories of and commentaries upon performance, the philosophy of music, musical semiotics, the anthropology of music, the psychology of music, the sociology of music, the politics of music, the business of music, the physics of sound, the physiology of hearing, the creation of environmental soundscapes, noise pollution, the function of music, music of different cultures, music sacred and profane, the history of music, music of the conservatory and of the vernacular, even formal musical texts, music criticism and analysis, and textbooks of ear training, harmony and composition.

I have yet to find, in a wide reading over many years, much which approaches the subtleties of performance which are the focus and concern of my own life as a performer. Very little academic literature, while sometimes sharing the same questions, addresses the finer points of my experience. It is probably impossible to prove a subtle action to (even) an enquiring and sceptical audient. This is because subtle action doesn't "exist" in any easily measurable way, or even "exist" at all. Fortunately it is possible, and much easier, to experience the realities and qualities of performance than to provide proof of them. The experiencing is direct and immediate; it is always available, providing we are available to the performance.

Guitar Craft, for example, is one approach which aims to make available direct experience of the musical world to anyone, of whatever level of experience, who is prepared to make an effort to be available to music.

VII
We assume that our artists see things directly and then, through their art, convey to us their insight and their act of seeing. We demand of our artists honesty, and hope for clarity. Their rationalisations and explanations are not as compelling. If any culture is to be healthy, and vital, the opportunity to see through our artists' eyes and hear through their ears is a necessity. But it is not a necessity that we give attention to how our artists rationalise their seeing.

A poet presents their poem, not an essay on what the poem might mean. The listening public who attends live performances may, by consulting their own experience, judge whether any of these remarks resonanate for them.

These comments are presented by a guitarist and aspiring musician, and I apologise to any who are offended by them.

VIII
Any culture whose artists are directed or controlled by commercial interests is in mortal danger.

IX
The people of Argentina have been exceptionally kind to me, far more so than I deserve, and the generality of the Argentinean press have made exceptionally generous comments. There have also been two negative reviews of Soundscape performances, coincidentally both from reviewers who arrived at the theatres accompanied by photographers who were not admitted.

Sr. Federico Monjeau, the reviewer and lecturer upon contemporary music, reviewed the Monday performance at the Goethe Institute for the Buenos Aires Clarin of Saturday 8th. April. Sr. Monjeau considered that Fripp's "rigidity and control are not at the service of musical impulses" and concluded that "so much discipline and control seem to be an end in itself rather than a way to achieve an innovative music... Even though they may seem different, there is something in these Soundscapes which still resembles the primitive synthesisers of so-called symphonic rock, with those held chords which once seemed justified by a fascination with technology but which today appear unbearably vulgar".

Sr. Monjeau kindly and generously overlooks my other many weaknesses. Following the publication of Sr. Monjeau's review we promised to present the public of Buenos Aires with an opportunity to confirm his view, assuming their sufficient interest. The Soundscapes on this record, although five days later in the series, meets this commitment.

We perceive our perceptions. That is, what we hear is the quality of our listening. We can only understand to the extent of our understanding. Similarly, the reviewer reviews themself. Some critics are able to see into the heart of a performance and present their seeing: objective, impartial, unbiased and clean. These are good friends to the performer.

X
These comments were written at the Claymont Mansion, Charles Town, West Virginia, during the fourth Guitar Craft (Application & Assimilation) course, during August 25 - 30th., 1995.

I have been involved in the Claymont project, in various ways, for nearly 21 years. This property was home to the early Guitar Craft courses, beginning in March 1985, for which I am deeply grateful. Claymont was a great place to make mistakes, and an even better place to learn from them. For this I am especially grateful.

At the final meeting of GC (A&A) IV, at 21.53 local time and shortly before the completion of the course, I announced the formal conclusion of my relationship with Claymont.