ould there be a band with a more complex history than King Crimson? Frequently viewed as nothing more than a conduit for guitarist Robert Fripp’s ever-evolving ideas, the group’s aesthetic has actually been more a function of whoever Fripp has recruited to play with him. Thus, the group’s early incarnation, which produced the classic In the Court of the Crimson King, mixed whimsical prog with hard rock. In the hands of saxophonist Mel Collins and future Bad Company bassist Boz Burrell (and much to the consternation of Fripp himself), KC’s live show later moved increasingly into jazz territory. And of course, there were the group’s two most famous lineups: the monolithic mid-70s group dominated by unparalleled drummer Bill Bruford, and the exotic synth-prog outfit of the early 80s, led by guitarist/vocalist Adrian Belew.


Throughout this long history – of which the only constant member has been Fripp – King Crimson has persistently shifted focus, each new era in their history bringing on a new style and purpose. In the 90s, this focus has been less clear. For the first time, a new incarnation of Crimson featured many of the same players as a previous one – most notably, Bruford, Belew, and bassist Tony Levin were carried over from the 80s group – but the reunion has failed to match the intensity of any previous Crimson lineup. Floundering through albums like the uneven Thrak, splintering into a set of aimless sub-groups called ProjeKcts, and releasing the abysmal The ConstruKction of Light, the 90s Crimson has yet to find their focus.


The latest addition to this increasingly convoluted oeuvre, The Power to Believe, goes a long way towards correcting the missteps of the past few years. Boasting a pared-down quartet of Fripp, Belew, multi-instrumentalist Trey Gunn (a former student at Fripp’s guitar school), and percussionist Pat Mastelotto, the album is certainly Crimson’s finest effort in a long time, looking back to the entirety of their past without stooping to ConstruKction’s tiresome self-referentiality.


There’s nothing here that will sound unfamiliar to longtime Crim-heads. The group continues the 90s KC trend of mixing elements from the 80s Discipline era and the hard rock of the 70s lineup. The difference is that this time around, they actually have the songs to match their instrumental virtuosity and creativity. The title track, with lyrics by Belew, is repeated in four drastically different versions throughout the album, setting a thematic ground on which the other songs rest. On the a-cappella intro, Belew’s voice is distorted into near-incoherence as he croons the simple lyrics. The second (and best) of these versions builds a beautiful, Eastern-tinged soundscape around the lyrics, with chiming percussion and airy production. “The Power to Believe III” attacks the song with heavy guitars, and the brief coda version channels Fripp’s ambient work.


With the exception of the title tracks and the ballad “Eyes Wide Open” (which sounds like a Discipline outtake), the rest of the album is dominated by the kind of grandiose hard rock that has been a staple of Crimson’s blistering live performances throughout much of their recent career. This material is as inconsistent as anything off their past few records, but when they do hit upon a good moment, it tends to be really good. The instrumental “Elektrik” is based around the tight interplay of Fripp and Belew, whose dual guitars are nearly inseparable thanks to years of playing together. On the low end, Trey Gunn has traded in his signature Chapman Stick for the touch guitar, an instrument somewhere between a bass and a guitar which is played by gently tapping the strings. Its low, warbling grunt is easily recognizable in the mix, and is well-suited to the more ferocious Crimson jams. And Pat Mastelotto, though still a poor stand-in for the utterly irreplaceable Bruford, contributes a good mix of electronic and acoustic drums throughout.


“Dangerous Curves” achieves a similar feel, building slowly like a scarier Neu! or an amped-up version of the 80s Crimson. The discordant guitars and motorik rhythms, backed by Fripp’s mellotron, add up to one of the best moments in the 90s Crimson catalog. Unfortunately, the album’s other heavier moments don’t fare nearly as well. “Happy With What You Have to Be Happy With,” which was provided as a teaser on the EP of the same name late last year, is a return to the empty hard rock of ConstruKction, misguidedly reaching out for a hip teenage audience while lyrically mocking those same kids. “Facts of Life” mines a sludgy metal-industrial style similar to the instrumentals from the Thrak era, with equally turgid results.


Despite the album’s handful of inferior tracks – which mirror the mistakes of the past few years – The Power to Believe is still the best thing Fripp and his cohorts have produced since the Discipline band broke up almost twenty years ago. If that seems like faint praise... well, it is. Frankly, this is simply no match for classic albums like Red or Larks’ Tongues in Aspic, and if that’s an unfair standard to hold a band to, it’s also impossible not to think of Crimson’s past glories when listening to their present material. Nevertheless, Power is a workmanlike effort that reveals some new ideas still flowing in the group’s collective veins, as well as being their most consistently enjoyable album in nearly twenty years – not a small feat itself.