Emerson Lake & Palmer, Live At The Royal Albert Hall DVD

By Michael Row

After 38 years on this planet, I can finally say with assurance that I will never, ever make a good Emerson Lake & Palmer fan. I’m just not cut out for it. This speaks more of my prejudices against uberserious concept albums, neo-classical influences on rock, and bad 70s fashion than it does anything about Keith, Greg, and Carl. But I also believe that, somewhere along the line, ELP has just gotta take some accountability, too. When you no longer have anything to say, please stop. Did ELP really think they stood a chance at hitting the charts after NIRVANA’s Nevermind?

BLUE RONDO À LA TURKEY

In 1992, a regrouped ELP toured on the back of their new Black Moon LP, their first record since their horrid ’78 farewell album, Love Beach. On Love Beach, they had sounded like progged out, new-wave era WHO and looked like a very uptight PABLO CRUISE. Was this Black Moon tour the triumphant return fans had awaited for 14 years? A reinvention of their signature sound in the new age? Perhaps a chance to show all them youngsters how it was once done, old school?

Not exactly. And ELP’s Live at the Royal Albert Hall DVD (Shout! Factory, 2009) capturing their October 1992 London gig, shows you why.

The performance here borders on second-rate Siegfried & Roy spectacle. Early on, Keith Emerson brandishes what apparently was a tone modulator grafted to a flamethrower. He rolls back somersaults and skips into the audience in those embarrassing leather pants of his, trying his hardest to excite the aging baby boomers in attendance. It only succeeds in concerning those upfront, but when his gizmo stops firing, Keith retreats in defeat back behind his moog. Later, we’re privy to Carl Palmer’s double footpedal drum solo, which he performs with eyes shut and arms raised high above his head. It’s tight and wins fanatic applause, but the oddly contented smile he’s wearing gets me shifting uncomfortably in my seat—I feel as if I’ve just walked in on him using the toilet. And then, there is Greg Lake’s chest hair. No, it isn’t pretty.

What ELP can never be denied are their musical chops. Greg plays as fluidly on bass as he does guitar, and can still nail a gorgeous song like “From the Beginning” with aplomb. Carl pounds the skins like he hasn’t had a drink or smoked a cig in 20 years. And Keith is as restlessly inventive on keys as ever. Anybody who wants to get at the glowing heart of just makes a 70s prog fan go ga-ga should view Keith’s solo moment, “Creole Dance,” contained herein. It’s the sight & sound of a man playing manic rings around the competition, chasing down and surpassing melodic/rhythmic ideas like they were last week’s funny papers. The footage of him hammering his keyboard with aggressive, staccato precision, a wall of moog modular synths lit up behind him, sums up that searching, early 70s prog cul-du-sac better than most. Yes it was a dead end, but it could be mighty powerful in instrumental prowess alone.

By the finale (a medley containing “Blue Rondo à La Turk” of course) you’re left wondering not why they persevered, but resenting them for doing so without acknowledging the moment in which they now found themselves. ELP didn’t have to be irrelevant, and sure as hell didn’t have to come across like a two-bit circus act; they chose to. True fans oughta hate them for this.

This DVD is available directly from Shout! Factory.