(Translated from my original Italian text by ChatGPT and Piero Scaruffi)
In the 1980s, Adrian Belew, a guitar prodigy who had played with musicians such as Zappa, Bowie, Byrne, and Fripp, embarked on a solo career that allowed him to develop his art on two fronts: on one hand, guitar technique—always intriguing if not outright brilliant—and on the other, a passion for pop songwriting. While the results were not always commensurate with his virtuosity and ambitions, Belew consistently displayed a surreal approach, an iconoclastic imagination, and above all an unpredictable sense of humor that almost always outweighed commercial temptations.
His work is often more an art of quotations than original melodies (there’s hardly a riff or tune that doesn’t recall someone else), but its value lies not so much in the themes themselves as in everything surrounding them: the arrangements, instrumental interludes, intros, and codas. In his highly personal vision of postmodernism, the quotation serves as a garnish to the main dish: instead of being metaphorical, it is a frame, an environment, a container. While Belew’s approach may sometimes seem akin to Brian Eno, his style actually subverts Eno’s assumptions: instead of a pop that reflects on itself (using itself as metaphor), it’s a pop that “misthinks” itself, “deconstructing” to allow hostile elements, parasites, and terrorists to infiltrate.
For his first album, Lone Rhino (Island, 1982), Belew surrounded himself with longtime friends (he was born in Kentucky and began playing professionally in Nashville in 1976). Some tracks on this album openly defy conventional rock structures and are perhaps the most compelling: Big Electric Cat with its Martian tribalism and Animal Grace full of misplaced Oriental and African influences; in some cases (Adidas In Heat), Belew’s art serves musical parody in a Zappa style.
His is a “poor man’s Frippertronics,” far removed from Fripp’s intellectual aura and much closer to the experiments of a teenager in a mischievous mood (somewhat reminiscent of a lighter Manzanera).
The “real” songs, such as The Momur (which reprises the driving boogie of Patti Smith’s Pumping), feature compelling melodies, yet are overwhelmed by a tornado of guitar-produced sound effects (notably the rhinoceros roar and bird calls in The Lone Rhinoceros). His excursions into black music are equally inventive, from the funky fanfare of Stop It to the R&B of Swingline, where he uses the guitar like a saxophone. The most masterful ballad (and one of the album’s highlights) is The Man In The Moon, a futuristic, decadent Ultravox-like litany in which Belew employs microtones to a disco rhythm. Belew sings in a register that blends Barrett’s ethereal voice with Byrne’s neurotic style, sometimes screaming like a punk, other times laughing like a madman.
During his tenure with King Crimson, Belew managed to compose and record Twang Bar King (Island, 1983), where Fripp’s influence is evident. The album suffers from excessive cerebral complexity (She Is Not Dead is Man Who Dies Every Day played backward and overlaid with a live score), which undermines creative imagination, partially redeemed by I Wonder.
Three years passed before Belew, still engaged with King Crimson, tried again. Desire Caught By The Tail (Island, 1986) is a “one-man album,” an exercise in overdubbing and a high-class example of home recording. Rich in sonic vignettes (Tango Zebra with video game noises, percussive dobro, and beat harmonies; the waltz Laughing Man with accordion and synth; Beach Creatures Dancing Like Cranes; the verité sounds of Guernica, one of his wildest tracks; the experimentalism of Z), it is a transitional record, somewhat showy (in the cacophonous sense) and overall sprawling.
The following year, Belew reunited with old friends from the Raisins to form the Bears (Primitive Man, 1987). The album leveraged years of apprenticeship and experimentation, producing songs propelled by danceable rhythms and brightened with catchy choruses. With the surreal vein of his early work exhausted and guitar mythology set aside, Belew found a temporary balance in the pop of Man Behind The Curtain and Trust, both warped by skewed, redundant performances, embedding disturbances and provocations behind every chorus. He continued exploring psychedelic and Eastern inspiration in Raining and experimented with hybrid elements in Honey Bee (jingle-jangle and rhythm and blues). Many tracks, however, remain mediocre, and his new vocal register (AOR style) does little to redeem them.
The path followed by Rise And Shine (Primitive Man, 1988), the second and final Bears album, embraces genre-mixing, embedding stereotypes from different styles within the same arrangement. Beyond the ultra-modern execution (robotic rhythms, “quirky” effects, heavy drums, funky guitar), traces remain of proletarian boogie descending from the Band and Southern rock (Aches And Pains, Holy Mack), disco funk-soul (Rabbit Manor), and hard rock (Complicated Potatoes), signaling that Belew’s compositional vocabulary is expanding even as his performance vocabulary contracts. The more melodic tracks (Not Worlds Apart, The Best Laid Plans) recall the Los Angeles Sixties revival more than chart-oriented pop.
Belew then returned to the “one-man band” format for Mr Music Head (Atlantic, 1989) and Young Lions (Atlantic, 1990), albums in which he drew on his Bears experience with varying success.
On the first album, the absence of accompanying musicians seems to benefit rather than hinder him, and Oh Daddy crowns his career with an Elton John–style melody counterpointed by a girls’ choir. The comparison with the English pianist is reinforced by the use of piano, which also drives One Of Those Days, a swinging ’50s-style track almost in the manner of the Stray Cats, and Bad Days, with a music-box effect reminiscent of Abbey Road. Each track is an intelligence in constant metamorphosis, as demonstrated by 1967, and each track is a surprise, as shown by the swampy gospel of Bumpity Bump. Peaceable Kingdom and Hot Zoo showcase his guitar virtuosity, somewhat dormant on the Bears albums, while reviving his psychedelic inspiration—the original spark of his career. Following his debut album, this is arguably the happiest work of Belew’s career.
On Young Lions (Atlantic, 1990), Bowie’s influence spoils some tracks, but does not prevent Belew from constructing the charging-western feel of the title track (complete with elephant and tropical bird imitations) and from echoing Motown and beat influences on Looking For A UFO, Men In Helicopters, and Pretty Pink Rose.
The novelty of Inner Revolution (Atlantic, 1992) is the “orchestral” production of many tracks (including a string quartet for Big Blue Sun) and a stylistic playfulness that is more overt, reminiscent of the Traveling Wilburys. Belew’s playful, mischievous side comes through on War In The Gulf Between Us and I'd Rather Be Right Here, but he especially shreds the harmony on Member Of The Tribe. Everything is one of his best melodies, and the solo on This Is What I Believe In sounds like a harmonica. The album may represent the peak of his compositional creativity.
On Here (Caroline, 1994), Belew plays everything himself, increasingly obsessed with meticulous pop. Never Enough may be his most accomplished song.
The best thing on The Guitar as Ochestra (1995) are the titles of the songs, that mock classical music.
The kaleidoscope of Op Zop Too Wah (Passenger, 1996) shows no sign of moderating its eccentricity. All Her Love Is Mine, I Remember How To Forget, and the title track form the usual oblique mélange of pop, jazz, and even raga.
The truth is that Belew writes somewhat absentmindedly for himself in between commitments with King Crimson.
Acoustic (Adrian Belew Presents, 1993) and Belew Prints (Discipline Global Mobile, 1998), later condensed into Salad Days (Thirsty Ear, 1999), are collections of acoustic versions of his classics. Belew accompanies himself on piano, drums, double bass, and found objects. Stripped of his surreal arrangements, however, he demonstrates only a faint pop talent in the vein of John Lennon and David Bowie.
His nonsense rock was an original and evocative variant of postmodern music before Belew became a pop songwriter.
His albums are always half-successful: Belew entertains and enjoys himself, but never exerts himself too much. Belew cannot write masterpieces any more than Woody Allen can make people laugh.
From the gems of his debut (Big Electric Cat, Animal Grace, The Man In The Moon) to the little songs of maturity (Oh Daddy, One Of Those Days, Young Lions), he has nonetheless redefined the science of novelty. The problem arises when he takes himself seriously and genuinely tries to write melodic songs: then he becomes as boring, predictable, and repetitive as his masters Lennon and Bowie.
The guitar whims of this rock Paganini certainly do not constitute an important chapter in rock music, but they do have their place among the curiosities of this still-developing art.
(Original English text by Piero Scaruffi)
Belew's career has proven him both a mesmerizing guitarist and
an accomplished melodist.
With Coming Attractions (Thirsty Ear, 2000)
Adrian Belew tries to please both ranks of his fans.
His "elephant" guitar towers on the syncopated industrial beats of
Predator Feast and on the sparse, tribal percussions of
No Such Guitar;
but Belew can get quite annoying when mimicking his pop
idols Big Star and Raspberries (117 Valley Drive).
He succeeds with a fiery, live acoustic, rendition of a sorrowful dirge such as
his Inner Revolution.
None of these would merit a place next to Belew's past classics, but
Animal Kingdom is pure delight: a ten-minute instrumental suite of
guitar noises, exotic percussions, and sounds of nature, that borders on
free-jazz and avantgarde music.
This is what Belew has never been and should have been: a modern composer.
All tracks of this album appeared on previous recordings, but have been
extensively reworked.
Side One (Sanctuary, 2005) is the first installment of
a supergroup project with
Primus' bassist Les Claypool
Tool's drummer Danny Carey.
Beat Box Guitar is the highlight
(even better is the eleven-minute version
on Live at Rockpalast Forum).
Adrian Belew going completely crazy with sounds and structure
Side Two (2005), Side Three and Side Four followed.