Artists
Greg Lake – lead vocals, bass guitar
Ian McDonald – vocals, Mellotron, woodwinds (saxophone, flute, clarinet, bass clarinet), keyboards, vibraphone
Robert Fripp – guitar
Michael Giles – drums, percussion, backing vocals
Peter Sinfield – lyrics
Written by Ian McDonald & Peter Sinfield. Produced by King Crimson for E.G., engineered by Robin Thompson, assistant engineer Tony Page, recorded at Wessex Sound Studios, London, 1969. Released as the closing track (9:25, including “The Return of the Fire Witch” and “The Dance of the Puppets”) on In the Court of the Crimson King (Island Records, 10 October 1969).
The title track began, according to Ian McDonald, as an entirely different kind of song — an earlier, more country-and-western-flavored attempt he and Peter Sinfield had worked on for a prior band, before King Crimson’s full treatment reshaped it into the album’s most elaborate, baroque arrangement. To achieve the album’s dense, orchestral textures, McDonald spent long hours overdubbing multiple layers of Mellotron along with his various woodwind and reed instruments. The band had initially worked with producer Tony Clarke (best known for his work with the Moody Blues), but after those early sessions didn’t pan out, King Crimson was given the chance to produce the record themselves.
King Crimson – The Court Of The Crimson King Lyrics
The rusted chains of prison moons
Are shattered by the sun
I walk a road, horizons change
The tournament’s begun
The purple piper plays his tune
The choir softly sing
Three lullabies in an ancient tongue
For the court of the crimson king
The keeper of the city keys
Put shutters on the dreams
I wait outside the pilgrim’s door
With insufficient schemes
The black queen chants
the funeral march
The cracked brass bells will ring
To summon back the fire witch
To the court of the crimson king
The gardener plants an evergreen
Whilst trampling on a flower
I chase the wind of a prism ship
To taste the sweet and sour
The pattern juggler lifts his hand
The orchestra begin
As slowly turns the grinding wheel
In the court of the crimson king
On soft gray mornings widows cry
The wise men share a joke
I run to grasp divining signs
To satisfy the hoax
The yellow jester does not play
But gently pulls the strings
And smiles as the puppets dance
In the court of the crimson king
To listen to other songs from the the Teleskop 19 program click here.