As rare as the occasions may be, it’s usually a good sign when band members are having fun with each other on stage to a degree that matches the passion of a devoted audience who paid to watch them.
That was the scene Friday at a sold-out Copernicus Center, where the band Beat wowed and performed acrobatic renditions of one of the most technically demanding musical catalogs: 1980s King Crimson. In doing so, the collective – composed of guitarist-vocalist Adrian Belew, guitarist Steve Vai, bassist Tony Levin and drummer Danny Carey – restored dignity to the abused term “supergroup” and set the standard for any band seeking to be described that way.
During one of his brief monologues, Belew said it took five years for everything to come together for this fall-winter tour. Considering the levels of virtuosity, precision, endurance, memory and mastery demonstrated throughout the two-hour show, it is surprising that Beat did not need more preparation time.
Such is the herculean challenge of tackling King Crimson, who has gone through several phases and multiple lineup changes during a career that has spanned seven decades. At times, the now-defunct English group operated with the idea that if a style enjoyed widespread popularity or moved toward simplicity, the group would move away from it.
To help achieve his goals, Beat chose a distinct era to cover, specifically the 1981-84 period, which followed King Crimson’s first hiatus. Given the involvement of Belew and Levin, this period makes perfect sense. Both joined King Crimson in 1981 and played on three albums (including “Beat”) before the progressive rock group disbanded again until the mid-’90s.
Given their individual histories and the six degrees of separation that bind Beat together, a deeper history is in order. Belew first cut his teeth with the famous and demanding Frank Zappa before working with David Bowie, Talking Heads and the Tom Tom Club. In addition to spending decades with King Crimson and leading solo projects, Belew has freelanced on acclaimed albums such as Paul Simon’s “Graceland,” Cyndi Lauper’s “True Colors” and four Nine Inch Nails LPs.
His former King Crimson colleague Levin has an equally enviable CV. Since the late ’70s, he has teamed with Peter Gabriel in the studio and on the road, including two concerts last fall at the United Center. Levin also claims credits on hundreds of records – works by Simon, Bowie, John Lennon and Pink Floyd to name a few – and co-fronts the band Stick Men.
As for Vai? Shortly after turning 18, he began working as a paid transcriber for Zappa and soon joined his band, serving until 1983. As well as taking on the roles of two revered guitarists – he replaced Yngwie Malmsteen in Alcatrazz and served as the answer to Eddie Van Halen in David Lee Roth’s first solo project – Vai has had a successful solo career that encompasses production, engineering, design and education.
Carey, a year younger than Vai and the group’s “baby” at 63, contributed to two of Belew’s solo efforts in the mid-2000s. The Tool veteran, who also collaborates in other media, is regularly cited by his peers and critics as one of the best drummers on the planet.
On paper, at least, the idea of four eminent musicians merging into one four-headed monster seems like a prospect not to be missed. But, as countless professional sports teams know well, crucial aspects like chemistry, balance and willingness to share the spotlight cannot be predicted or measured analytically.
Smooth interaction, surprising modesty, seamless consistency: Beat demonstrated these traits immediately after the members took the stage and received the first of half a dozen standing ovations. This is reflected in the almost constant smile on Belew’s face, the impromptu fist bumps between him and Vai after executing a daring passage and the non-verbal cues shared between the quartet, it was evident that these guys loved playing together and relished this opportunity.
For all the near-impossible complexity and radical architecture on offer, Belew brought a welcome sense of humor – not always a strong point of King Crimson. Wearing a bowler hat, his physical movements and magnetic smile often mirrored the spasmodic movement of the songs. Belew’s elastic vocals, especially on the stereo pan “Three of a Perfect Pair” and the zany “Indiscipline,” further conveyed an unguarded joy and incredible relaxedness, even as the material warranted intense focus, precision at any test and enormous skill.
Beat communicated with advanced and exotic languages, his wide-ranging vocabulary including elements of experimental, art-rock, pop, jazz, funk, new-wave and gamelan. Rarely content with simple linearity or conventional structure, the band arranged sophisticated polyrhythms into the sonic equivalent of puzzles, and juggled scales and time signatures with profound dexterity.
The tempos started slowly, picked up speed, and, without warning, shifted to unrelated speeds. The songs rumbled, zigzagged, walked, whipped, leaped, crawled. Patient but intense, they took the form of sonic funhouses, mirrored mazes filled with disorienting tricks and imaginative shapes.
The constant sliding of the wordless “Satori in Tangier”, the tissue paper delicacy of the ballad “Matte Kudasai”, the gap and sway of a skipping “Neal and Jack and Me”: all concise but overflowing with breathtaking adventures. Even more impressive? Beat’s seemingly infinite sonic universe, and listening to all the tones, colors and textures that each musician has extracted from their instrument, fit together.
A model of balance, Levin handled the traditional electric bass as well as the Chapman Stick and keyboards. He also provided backing vocals and, at times, took on three tasks simultaneously. For “Sleepless,” he attached his signature “Funk Fingers” to his right hand and increased the pressure of the song with insistent percussive lines.
Perched on a drum column, Carey balanced strength and restraint, heaviness and subtlety, density and space. Even wondering if somewhere behind his equipment he hid another pair of arms and legs, he avoided the commotion and the spectacle. Switching between sticks and mallets, he oversaw a series of bizarre time signature changes, helped ensure the songs never became heavy, and provided the dynamic foundations that anchored his cohorts’ effects-laden excursions.
Told from the perspective of an abandoned car, “Dig Me” channels the creak of rusted body panels, the reluctant churn of a broken engine and the rattle of old metal bolts. The surging “Neurotica” captured the din of a bustling city center, with police sirens, horns and announcements reminiscent of a traffic helicopter reporter. The thrilling, aptly titled “Elephant Talk” echoed the sustained trumpeting of the large land mammal, thanks in large part to Belew’s six-string fireworks.
Alternating between clean and distorted tones, Below generated swarms of evocative, wild, mechanical and other noises. Using slides, knob-turning devices, amplifier feedback and, mid-sequence, an electric drill combined with a set of pedals, he conjured the cacophony of a representative sample of the natural and animal environment (birds, insects, whales, beasts) as well as industrial production subject to screams and skronks. As a reward for his efforts, he tore off the top of one of his fingers, which had blue ribbon on it during the rappel.
The atmospheric fills, eloquent accents and high-octane solos are mostly due to Vai. A one-man band who crafted intimate, glass-like melodies with equal skill and punctuated them with howling, bombastic intervals, he wowed with his technique, versatility and otherworldly innovation. Vai’s two hands tapping up and down on the handle were reminiscent of a typist furiously hammering away at a manuscript. At other times, his fingers seemed to sprinkle fairy dust over the instrument.
Vai’s exuberant expressions spread to the rest of his body. Unleashing spurts of arpeggios, phrases, harmonics and licks, the upstate New York native often sounded like he was slow dancing with an invisible partner. During an epic rendition of “The Sheltering Sky,” Vai held his guitar by the tremolo bar, held it perpendicular to the floor, and manipulated its angle to alter pitch and frequency without sacrificing control.
With the exception of a thin “Model Man” and a spinoff “Man with an Open Heart,” it all amounted to the kind of chase that should merit a second chapter. (No dates are planned beyond December; Beat will livestream an international concert on November 10.) If that happens, let’s hope it doesn’t take another five years.
Copernicus Center setlist on November 1:
Set 1
“Neurosis”
“Neal, Jack and me”
“Pulsation”
“Satori in Tangier”
“Dig Me”
“The model man”
“The man with an open heart”
“Industry”
“Larktongues in Aspic Part III”
Set 2
“The Man Who Waits”
“The sky that protects us”
“Sleepless”
“Frame by frame”
“Kudasai matte”
“Elephant Talk”
“Three of a Perfect Pair”
“Indiscipline”
Bis
“Red”
“Thela Hun Ginjeet”
