Tony Levin Story about Peter Gabriel: Excerpt from Robert Fripp's Diary

-April 21st,1981; Chez Parents; 18:15.

Today's rehearsals were the first of the third stage, very slow, twitchy, and failed to lock in. BB has spent his Easter time off digging. TL visited Peter Gabriel in Bath, and AB spent the time on lyrics but, although today was the promised day for the vocal debut, they weren't ready.

Tony told a great Gabriel story. They begin working together on the next Gabriel album when this venture closes. As usual, Peter has no words and no tunes, but he did have seven percussion tracks recorded for Tony to dub bass. Peter went out of the studio for a moment and returned just as Tony began to overdub, but Tony didn't know about the faulty button which caused all the safety switches to misfunction. So clearing three safe tracks for bass cleared everything else with it. Now Peter has nothing at all towards the fourth Peter Gabriel album. Tony was laughing so hard it softened the blow. Peter has an isolation tank he'll have to spend more time in, floating about and coming up with ideas.

I'm just imagining Tony Levin cracking up while Peter Gabriel just stands there sulking and possibly melting like a polaroid. hahaha.

More than you probably wanted to know: Excerpt from Robert Fripp's Diary...

-Friday, April 24th, 1981; HQ.

The girl who preferred me with my clothes off was a 17-year-old model from Newcastle, where I had met her while playing in Change Is, a new and trendy club. She had come to London to run rings around a musician she had met at the club the week before. He was actually running rings around her: he was married. When she discovered this she slashed her wrist in the bathroom sink and then staunched the flow of blood on Greg's towel, leaving large stains and clots. This angered Greg, who had only allowed the girl to stay in our bachelor flat for a few days as a special favour. At that time, May 1969, Greg Lake and I had an apartment together in Leinster Square, just between Queensway and Westbourne Grove. The flat was one large room with a cardboard partition which made two "rooms".This allowed each to be fully involved in the personal life of the other, and ALL its details, whether wanted or not. Greg had come to London in November 1968 to join Michael Giles, Ian MacDonald and myself in Giles, Giles and Fripp, replacing Peter Giles. Since Greg had nowhere to stay he shared my bed in Brondesbury Road. It wasn't a great arrangement, so we got an apartment. King Crimson began rehearsing on January 5th, 1969, in the basement of the Fulham Palace Cafe, Fulham Palace Road, and for the first week of March went to work at Change Is in Newcastle, the new and trendy club. Our booking was as Giles, Giles and Fripp, the only work GGF were ever given, following a moderately successful BBC2 TV show, COLOR ME POP. We caught the train from London to Newcastle on the day before the gig, Saturday, and checked into our digs at South Shields, right on the North Sea coastline and with a cold that reached all parts. Greg said we should go into the club and line up the birds for the coming week. He looked on me, somewhat rightly, as an inept puller. Once in action I was assured, but to get to that point was a problem. Greg for his part had all the lines down and could charm nearly everyone he wanted, and he took it on himself to give me some help in strategy and manoevres. So, off the team went to Change Is.

This was the last day of the club's first week, with the Paul Williams Set playing, and the crop of the town's young women in mini-skirts as waitresses. We lined up trade for the week. I was wearing my smart Carnaby Street jacket, trousers and frilly white shirt, and felt bold. The character of pulling, I learned, involved being pushy and insincere. The following week, liberated from background in a new town and society, the first time I had ever been further north than London, two waitresses responded. Both visited me in London. The 17-year-old model who made her suicide attempt did so on the night King Crimson played the Van Dyke Club in Plymouth. The band returned by milk train via Bristol and I arrived back at our flat at 7:30 in the morning. Lee Kerslake's girlfriend, a friend of the model, answered the door. Obviously, something was wrong. Just having traveled London to Plymouth, played, returned without sleep, this was just what I needed. The model's wrist was stiched by now, Greg's towel a shade of heavy magenta and a freshly opened razor blade on the sink with only a touch of coagulated blood. I washed it off and shaved on it for a week. We sent her home to her mother.

Her friend, the other waitress, visited from Newcastle shortly afterwards. A very quiet, innocent and pretty blonde. She gave me gonorrhea. The first one gave me trichomoniasis vaginitis, but I didn't know this at the time. Not long afterwards Greg was going to pay a visit to the Willy Shop as a matter of course, and why didn't I go along, too? After all, this was part of my education, Wimborne mud fresh from my recently purchased(with Greg) Anello and Davide boots. So, we went to Gower Street Special Clinic together and the doctor told me I had gonorrhea. Unclean! VD! Unclean! Nice people did't get VD. I had shamed my family. Greg was far more practical and comforting. Then I had to get in touch with the girls, and an embarrassed confession from the innocent blonde returned by mail. I never heard from her again. The first one I saw backstage at the Lyceum two years later, still with the married man, but I haven't seen her since.

At this time King Crimson was beginning to be sucessful, and the new blood we represented began to appeal to the bloodthirsty. Mike Giles, the drummer, was married but then gravitating towards his second wife. Ian MacDonald fell in love for the first time. This left Greg and myself as the band's main singles. Part of the appeal of being a professional musician, particularly in rock, was the freedom of behaviour allowed to young players, particularly young rockers. One expected them to carelessly and frequently rut; ergo one could carelessly and frequently rut. Taking on a persona made pulling much easier: Robert Fripp of King Crimson could proposition with a confidence that Bob Fripp, young thinker of Wimborne, couldn't. And ther was interest coming the other way. David Enthoven, one of our managers and the E of EG, said: "Greg'll get all the dollies, and Fripp'll get the heavies." Certainly, I did come to know one or two women of substance.

Fripp... will get the heavies. HAHAHAHA. I'm real curious about the going ons when Fripp moved out and Squire moved in. There must have been penis in everything.

Phil makes Peter seem normal

Phil Collins is a nutburger

"They're orbs," Collins says solemnly. "I'm not sure what the scientific term is, but it's paranormal energy. See this one? Now this one is at Goliad, where, after the Alamo, 400 guys were executed. You've got to be careful. You can talk yourself into this stuff. See how many there are here? I get chills just talking about it. All of those orbs! They're all over the place! If you believe this, then you have to rethink everything you've been taught. That's what freaks me out."