ELP Live at the Royal Albert Hall

ELP Live at the Royal Albert Hall is a live album by the grand old warlocks of prog—Emerson, Lake & Palmer capturing their two-night stint at London’s most pompously glorious venue during the Black Moon tour in early October 1992. Yes, the Royal Albert Hall, the kind of place where the walls practically sweat Brahms and bow ties.

ELP had parted ways back in 1978, with a whimper rather than a bang. A brief resurrection occurred in 1985, but it wasn’t quite the holy trinity:

Carl Palmer decided to play drums in Asia, where his solos wouldn’t have to battle Moogs), and Cozy Powell (of Rainbow and Black Sabbath fame) stepped in instead.

Carl Palmer returned in 1991, and with his re-entry came the Black Moon album: a reunion of the classic lineup and an attempt to re-cork the bottle of 1970s prog wizardry.

 This live recording hails from that Black Moon tour. And while fans were understandably thrilled to see the original trio back in action, there’s no avoiding the elephant in the room—or rather, the Hammond organ in the hall: this isn’t 1971. The fire that once burned like a synth-driven apocalypse had cooled somewhat. Still, a tour’s a tour, and the fans came not for reinvention, but for resurrection—craving the old epics, not the new experiments.

ELP Live at the Royal Albert Hall

They kick things off with “Welcome Back,” which is really just a teasing snippet of “Karn Evil 9: First Impression, Part 2” – the bit everyone knows (“Welcome back my friends, to the show that never ends…”) – but don’t get too comfortable. It’s over before you can light your second clove cigarette.

Then we lurch into “Tarkus,” which is… fine. Competent. Like watching a once-wild beast now well-fed and slightly arthritic, still managing a roar but needing a nap afterward. No real surprises. Keith Emerson’s rig still looks like a Soviet space lab exploded on stage, with Moogs the size of small wardrobes. Carl Palmer has cheekily slipped some MIDI pads into his kit—prog’s answer to Botox—and Greg Lake? Well, Lake’s voice has aged like port: darker, deeper, less supple but still warming. In the ballad “Lucky Man,” he becomes briefly transcendent, reminding us why your uncle cried in 1971 and bought a cape.

But after that, the star of the show becomes unmistakably Emerson. His keyboard antics dominate the night with almost neurotic intensity. Lake fades into the wallpaper of nostalgia, and Palmer—ever the precise technician—keeps the engine purring with military efficiency.

Tracks from Black Moon itself, like “Paper Blood,” come and go without much emotional detonation. Emerson’s rearranged take on “Romeo and Juliet” doesn’t exactly set the world on fire either—more like a polite candle on a doily.

They close with “Pirates,” which sounds as grandiose as ever, a swashbuckling, orchestral juggernaut that recalls the days when prog rockers thought they were scoring entire empires. It’s indulgent. It’s overwrought. It’s ELP.

Naturally, there’s an encore. A medley spanning “Fanfare for the Common Man” to various golden oldies, capped off by Emerson’s trademark bit of performative vandalism: abusing and annihilating his organ in a fit of keyboard lunacy that would make a Victorian nun faint.

In my head

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Now, if you’ve ever heard their live shows from the 1970s—the heyday of excess, ego, and unfiltered virtuosity—you’ll immediately notice that the power levels here have dipped. It’s not decrepit, but it is… mature. Grayer, slower, maybe just a bit too respectful. The reckless magic has been replaced with muscle memory and a whiff of dignity.

Still, this show is a perfectly serviceable piece of live ELP. It won’t convert the uninitiated or spark revolutions, but for the faithful? It’s a welcome echo of past glories. Just don’t expect to levitate.

Brain Salad Surgery still my favourite