The Capitol Theatre was the ultimate setting for three-man orchestration of Emerson, Lake and Palmer. The heavy pomp of the 1970s was brought back to Salt Lake City for a night of chaotic order.
Keyboardist Keith Emerson, bassist/guitarist Greg Lake and percussionist Carl Palmer launched off their two-hour set with a flash and barreled into the complex rhythm of "Tarkus." Still, amid the glitz, the band focused on musicianship.Emerson, surrounded by synthesizers, displayed his classical repertoire and pounded out the introduction to "Knife Edge" while Lake bellowed the lead vocals as he boomed out the bass lines. Palmer set the rhythms, syncopated as they were, with dynamic precision. The band played as one and the sound was sharp.
Not only was the show an audio treat but a visual one as well. Psychedelic arrays of color highlighted songs like "Paper Blood," "Touch and Go" and the crowd pleaser "Lucky Man."
The lights created a mood-setting laser-light show as each member took turns basking in the spotlight while they shot out their riveting solos.
The audience sat silent as Emerson, intent as a concert pianist, hammered out the orchestral boogie of "Creole Dance." When he stopped, the audience jumped to its feet.
One of the most touching moments took place when Lake serenaded the audience with the acoustic hit "Still . . . You Turn Me On" and "C'est La Vie." Emerson emerged with an accordion and gave the audience a taste of Paris.
The ELP arrangement of Mussogorsky's "Pictures at an Exhibition" served as the setting for Palmer's "percussion orchestration." Using every cymbal, gong, bell and drum, Palmer, resembling an octopus, proved his endurance as he pounded out lightning-speed rolls on his double-bass set.
The crowd gave each member a standing ovation.
The band also performed "Paper Moon" and the swashbuckling "Pirates." Each symphonic arrangement of Emerson's searing synths and Lake's booming bass was matched note for note with the accuracy of Palmer's drumming. The show was packed into a tight, neat set. The band left the audience screaming for more.
When the band re-entered it presented a thirty-minute remake of Copland's "Fanfare for the Common Man."
ELP played like there was no tomorrow.
Emerson, the showman that he is, unveiled an old Hammond B3 organ and beat it to a pulp. He used the power switch as a bend key and pumped note after note into the sound system. He then jumped on top of it, a la Jerry Lee Lewis, and bashed it around before taking on his wall of computer consoles.
Bits of Bach and flashes of Prokofiev filtered out of the steady bass-drum shuffle as Lake followed with his constant plucking.
Keeping in perfect synchronization, Emerson, Lake and Palmer put on a pomp-rock show that could only be compared to symphonic art. Each member displayed a professionalism not compatible to the grunge and speed metal bands of today. The band of the '70s is once more back in the spotlight. Hopefully, it's here to stay.