“This is the exciting part of the evening where my scintillating personality draws you into the band’s close personal magnetism, and I can only do this by announcing the pieces we have just played...” A tittering Robert Fripp then proceeds to offer up two titles in a deeply impenetrable Dorsetshire accent that produces guffaws from the band behind and utter bafflement for anyone trying to transcribe his announcement.

A wonderful reading of The Night Watching is no laughing matter however. In the raised adrenelin levels that comes from switching from one high-octane track like Lament, a song as delicate as this could easily be over-played and brutalised. Yet the band manage to pull off something powerful without recourse to bludgeoning the audience.

Shards of scattering Xylophone, simmering bass, squalling electric piano and terse guitar form the bulk of the improv that goes into some fairly hard-edged areas before Bruford kicks the thing off into a groove at around six minutes. They build-up and pay-off are worthwhile spawning an Asbury Park style laser beam solo from Fripp. When Cross cuts in with a rising Mellotron theme, it’s a truly magical moment.