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Any student of rock history is well acquainted with the punk/prog schism—the idea that the genre had grown so bloated and self-important by the late ’70s, the only sensible move left was to return rock to its primal state, frilly robes and 20-minute keyboard solos be damned. But we've often wondered: Does music have to be an aesthetic competition? Does one style have to die off for another one to rise?
It's a good week to ponder such questions, as legendary bands from each of these two wings are playing big comeback gigs in town. King Crimson, the most genuinely progressive of all the classic British prog crews, hits Best Buy Theater Thursday through Sunday, in a brand-new three-drummer incarnation that founder-bandleader Robert Fripp has geekily dubbed the Seven-Headed Beast of Crim. And the Replacements, patron saints of just about every scruffy barfly-punk crew to have formed within the last 30 years or so, turn up Friday for a one-off at Forest Hills Tennis Stadium. Ideal scenario? Defy the tired, rock-crit-abetted punk/prog dichotomy and show up for both (assuming you can score tix). Here's some multimedia enticement:
King Crimson:
On the surface, this clip embodies everything we're conditioned to hate about prog. But are you really going to argue with David Cross's (no, not that David Cross) soothing violin work? John Wetton's husky croon? Robert Fripp's seated, sociopathically expressionless shredding? Bill Bruford's hyperactive, hyperinventive percussion and Boston Bruins overalls? Like the Crimson oeuvre in general, this clip overflows with both beauty and bite; it's worth every second of its nearly 11-minute-plus run time.
The Replacements:
The rock & roll paradox in a nutshell… How can four sweaty, scruffy dudes jumping around on a tiny stage achieve something that seems this hallowed and holy? Friday's gig is likely to feel a wee bit less intimate than this, but hopefully remaining members Paul Westerberg and Tommy Stinson can still summon some of that old messy magic.