Ambient 1: Music for Airports - 1978

It’s way too easy to take this album for granted, after all this is basically ground zero for modern ambient music. Long, infrequently repeating, glacially-paced melodies swirl and evolve around the listeners’ ears, enveloping the listener in a sonic womb, warm and inviting. Here, with his experimentation with generative music and tape loops, Eno laid the foundation for an entire genre. And while I would argue that there has been better ambient music made since this release (some of it coming from Eno himself), Music for Airports is still an incredible listen.

I remember in high school being into The Orb, and then reverse engineering my way back to Eno. I didn’t really get Music for Airports. Compared to the ambient music I was into, the music on Eno’s album was boring and uneventful. But as I matured, and my taste in music grew more discerning, I learned to embrace what Eno had done, and now I greatly prefer Eno’s ambient compositions over those created by performers like The Orb. It’s funny - ambient music from the 1990s has not aged well at all. Today, only a decade or so later, this music sounds totally dated and passe, while Eno’s music, from three decades ago, still sounds fresh and new.

Apollo - 1983

As of right now, this is my favorite Brian Eno album.  It’s also on my top 50.

It took me a few years to grow into this album. When I first heard it, almost 2 decades ago, I was turned off by its lack of melody and harmony - it’s unmusical qualities. I first purchased it on vinyl, and it sat in my crates unlistened to for a very long time. But something clicked a few years ago, something changed within me, I gave the album another listen and I totally loved it.

In an ironic turn of events, this album has since become one of my musical touchstones. It is an ambient album that has greatly informed my own ambient aesthetic. Its sonic textures and bold and atmospheric, and the creative instrumentation is skillfully played and produced. And beneath all of the ambiance, there are also many great melodic compositions, especially on the tracks that Lanois plays guitar and PSG on.

Last night I finally broke through my writer’s block.

Dang it, it feels awesome.

Started and finished the first part of the second trilogy for the next album.  I liked it when I went to bed, much too late I might add, and I loved it this morning when I woke up.

I was beginning to wonder if my pool of creativity had dried up.  I don’t know what did it, but I’m glad to be making music again.

Another Green World - 1975

Another Green World is an album of fragments; many of the songs sound unfinished, like small snippets from songs that might have potential, but in their released state few of them are interesting, engaging or memorable. This is Eno’s 3rd studio album, coming right after Here Come the Warm Jets and Taking Tiger Mountain, two albums that sizzle and shine as brilliantly as any. Another Green World represents a changing Eno, and is more of an album of transitions than it is a proper, fully constructed work.

It is here that Eno began to more fully embrace synth textures and ambiance, leaving behind the quirky-pop-rock sensibilities of his first two albums. However, it wouldn’t be until his next album, Discrete Music, that Eno would fully realize this transition, and so here the songs lack the strong points from his early work and from those that immediately followed. But that’s not to say that there aren’t some great tunes here. Golden Hours is an interesting little song, as is Everything Merges With the Night and Sky Saw.

At the end of the day, Another Green World just doesn’t have a lot to offer. You’re better off listening to the two previous albums and the one directly following it, but there are a few tracks here that might make it worth your time.

Another Day on Earth - 2005

Brian Eno’s music has always been timeless. No matter the album, or the era, Eno’s compositions and songs sound as if they are from a different time and place. This is especially true now with his latest studio collection of “pop” tunes, Another Day on Earth. In a musical landscape marked with brickwall mastering and bands trying to OUT LOUD one another, to hear a modern-rock album as quiet as this one is something of an anomaly. Sometimes the album is so quiet and nuanced I forget that it is even playing. While to some this may sound as a negative quality, when it comes to Eno’s discrete sensibilities I can assure you that it is not.

Another Day on Earth begins with This, one of the albums most upbeat tracks; compared to the four subsequent tracks, This is absolutely rocking. It’s comprised of an intricate electronic rhythm and some brilliant synth work, while Eno’s trademark vocal work as the highlight. Eno’s voice is as distinct as his songwriting and production skills, and his lyrics are always interesting. He uses his vocal tracks as a delivery for both poetry and the voice as the instrument. He often choses words more for their sound than for their meaning, but given his Oblique Strategies there is bound to be subconscious meaning under the surface-nonsense.

As stated earlier, the next four songs are as quiet as can be. And Then So Clear (with Daniel Lanois on vocals, I think) is nothing but a vocodered-vocal part and a tiny little micro-melody and rhythm. Like a baby’s breath or a soft summer breeze, the song is subtle and gentle, calming and reflective. A Long Way Down, Going Unconscious, and Caught Between are equally as quiet.

The second half of the album kicks off with Passing Over, a hauntingly beautiful tune, and continues with the albums most pop-orientated track How Many Worlds. Bottomliners reminds me a lot of the aforementioned And Then So Clear, in that it is basically only a vocodered voice offset with only a hint of melody and rhythm.

Even in a career teeming with discrete music, Another Day on Earth stands out as a most subtle work. Eno does so much with so very little. Every sound is placed perfectly; this is an extreme example of minimalism, an audio reduction made with only the most necessary ingredients. However, it must be noted that its subdued nature can lead to some tedium. It is not a sonically adventurous album, nor is it extremely interesting. It is, perhaps, too discrete. So while part of me embraces the album’s nature with open arms, another part of me is a tad bored with it. I don’t turn to this album often, but when I do I am grateful for it. It’s a welcome breath of quiet air in a chaotic world, but sometimes it just a little boring.

I’ve rencently stated a thread on a message board I post at in which I am writing brief reviews for most of Brian Eno’s work, in a somewhat-alphabetical order.

This morning I figured that I should cross-post these here.  Why not, right?

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After the Heat - 1978 (with Cluster)

Brian Eno and Cluster worked together on a few albums.

Eno needs no introduction, but Cluster might. They are a German band specializing in experimental music ranging from abrasive noise to beautiful ambiance, and from pseudo-industrial to progressive space rock. The band mainly consists of two musicians/composers, Hans-Joachim Roedelius and Dieter Moebius.

More info - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cluster_(band)

After the heat is billed as being from Eno Moebius and Roedelius, and not Eno and Cluster, for what reasons I have no idea, as their other collaborations are billed as being from Eno and Cluster. I’m sure they had their reasons for this; probably something really artsy and out-there.

This album consists of a balanced mix of instrumental and vocal tracks. Most of these don’t stand out, and fall under what Eno himself might have called “discrete music,” a precursor to his more ambient stylings. While these tracks are not ambient in nature, they are still densely atmospheric, calming, and thought-provoking.

Some of them, like Tzima N’arki and Broken Head contain what I like to call “sticky rhythms.” They are almost dub-like in quality, and they feel gooey.

The best tracks are The Belldog and Broken Head, both tracks with vocals by Eno. Broken Head has a rigid, robot-like rhythm with Eno practically rapping. It’s very German, and progressive. The Belldog contains a number of shimmering keyboard layers creating interesting textures bubbling away beneath the melodic surface.

The album closes with a duo of beautiful somber compositions, The Shade and Old Land, each a expertly-crafted haunting piece in its own right.

After the Heat comes highly recommended to fans of Pink Floyd (the tune Luftschloss is entirely reminiscent of a Richard Wright composition), Neu, and other experimental/space rock from the same era. And even though it is over 30 years old, it still feels fresh and exciting. The only thing that really dates it are a few somewhat-cheesy keyboard patches and arpeggios.

Also, even though the album is experimental in nature, it is still highly accessible, melodic, and engaging. Often times, experimental music seems to want to push listeners away, or at least it wants to make the listeners work harder for enjoyment. Such is not the case with After the Heat. While its songs and compositions do require some thought, they also offer up instant gratification.

I think I forgot to post this here. Crazy.

Awhile ago I recorded a new soundtrack for a short film “directed” by Bill Morrison, called The Light is Calling. It’s a film assembled from old, decaying footage from another movie.

Anyhow, I loved the images, and I wanted to put my own music to the film.

Check it out.

It’s times like these that I am glad I am not a professional musician.

I can’t seem to write a thing to save my life right now.  Last night I spent like four hours on a tune, only to wake up this morning hating it.  I listened to whilst cooking breakfast, and I couldn’t stand it.

DELETE.

EMPTY TRASH.

It’s been like this for a couple of weeks now, thus delaying the third album.  I know what needs to be done.  I need to work through this rough spot.  Something will come eventually, I know, but it is ultra frustrating.

Why not, right?

Thank ambiance that Budd didn’t really retire in 2004.

Well…I guess it’s good that he thought about it. After all, he did record Avalon Sutra as a swan song, and it is a remarkable ‘end’ to a most amazing career.

However, during the last 5 years of his don’t-call-it-a-comeback, he’s made to great albums with Robin Guthrie, an amazing film score, and two drop-dead amazing albums with Clive Wright. The second of these, Candylion, was just released a couple of weeks ago, and it is quite good.

While not as epic and enrapturing as A Song for Lost Blossoms (but then again, there aren’t too many albums that are), Candylion is nonetheless another remarkable entry into Budd’s extensive catalog and ambient minimalism.

You can listen to it for free over at Rhapsody. Check it out.