Fripp and the boys were busy in 1974, later in the year came the storming Red album, but before that came this offering. King Crimson are usually lumped in with the lumbering prog-rock likes of Yes and ELP, but while they share a certain number of starting points (and band members), since their debut in 1969, they have always been that bit more closer to the edge (as well as that more technically proficient!). This can still be seen to this day with recent offerings such as Thrak and The ConstruKction Of Light, both being contemporary masterpieces.

Starless… opens in fine speedridin’ form with ‘The Great Deceiver’, which begins at full pace, slows briefly for a short Zepp-esque riff, then grinds down to a few staccato bass notes for the first verse. As usual with Crimson there are many rhythm, riff and tempo changes. Blistering. ‘Lament’ begins as a vocal-led ballad, but then unexpectedly dissolves and rebuilds into a freaked-out funk monster of a song — John Wetton’s vocals ranging from soulful to fiery.

‘We’ll Let You Know’ takes the form of a studio jam, and is about as loose and bluesy as Crimson get. Bill Bruford’s syncopated percussion linking the free wheeling bass and guitar. ‘The Night Watch’ opens with a wall of cymbals and chorused guitars, to give an almost oriental feel — David Cross’ violin picking up on this, while Wetton shares the story of what appears to be an old painting. Fripp, meanwhile, paints his own picture with some beautifully intricate harmonics.

‘Trio’ is almost complete silence for a whole minute, eventually Cross’ violin emerging, accompanied by some gentle bass-stroking from Wetton — before Fripp joins in with his best viola impersonation. Eerie, again quite oriental, and very soothing. 5 minutes 41 seconds just isn’t enough — I put this track on repeat play during moments of quiet contemplation. ‘The Mincer’ is the strangest track on offer, and possesses some excellent unexpected, ‘catch you by surprise’, snare work from Bruford. The title track begins with some quiet feedback and Bruford beating some kind of heart beat. Tambourines join in, the whole thing builds. The song title is beautifully evoked through the 9‑minute soundscape. Challenging, but never unlistenable, the whole thing turns more jazzy toward the end once Wetton and Bruford fall into step.

The closing track ‘Fracture’, strangely enough sees a return to the more structured Frippery and bizarre chord progressions. The fingerwork is quite mind boggling at times — and a lot of people criticize Fripp for his ‘over-complication’, but you’ll usually find that’s just jealous guitarists! — but huge funky islands appear all over the place, and the whole thing rides out on a high.

One of King Crimson’s best albums, certainly one of their funkiest, from arguably their strongest line-up. A classic which I heartily recommend — especially as an accompaniment to its sister album, Red (which is reviewed elsewhere here by Squid Tempest).