Brian
Eno
Another
Day on Earth
Hannibal
A2P rating: 4.0
In
certain circles, the impromptu announcement that Brian Eno intended
to release a new “vocal” album was tantamount to the
second or third coming of Christ. I will confess, first of all,
that were one to draw a line around the perimeter of my bedroom,
it could be considered one of said circles. Yes, Brian Eno, oftentimes
known simply as Eno, rarely known less simply as Brian Peter George
St. John le Baptiste de la Salle Eno, and called Brian perhaps only
by his mother, was slated to make his first foray into singing since
his early ‘90s collaboration with John Cale, Wrong Way
Up. That album is significant for at least two reasons, the
first being the stunningly essential thinking-man’s-love-song
“Lay My Love,” and secondly because Wrong Way Up
has become the necessary lead in point for any talk of Another
Day On Earth. Since that fateful day when music’s most
cerebral celebrity spake the words, in BBC interview with Alan Moore,
“I’ve actually just finished a new album which is all
songs, funnily enough,” – at the expense of sounding
melodramatic - the world sat trembling.
To discuss Eno is to become immersed in a rich backlog of Enosian
trivia from an almost terrifyingly interesting life, and to talk
to me when I’m drunk (that being any time after 9 in the morning)
is to talk about Eno. But before deciding to detail the man’s
life, from his legendary work as knob-twiddler for and best-dressed
member of Roxy Music, to his essential early solo albums, to his
career as an ambient pioneer and his effort to create a clock that
will remain accurate for 10,000 years with the Long Now Foundation,
I decided to consult a online deck of Oblique Strategies cards.
For those uninitiated, at some point Eno created a deck of cards,
each bearing an ambiguous phrase meant to paradoxically relieve
artistic ambiguity and drive the person looking at it in a new creative
direction.
“What would your closest friend do?” Read the first
card.
“Probably go to the bar,” I responded, and clicked the
card-choosing button once more.
“Disconnect from desire,” hath the card told me, and
so came a decision to restrain myself from any further tangents
on Eno’s fascinating misadventures.
Another Day On Earth is both what one would expect it to be,
and nothing like what one would expect it to be. The disc begins
with a simply titled, lushly layered track called “This.”
Eno’s air of erudition remains unsurprisingly intact upon
his rebirth into the world of singing. He chants the titular mantra
of “This” over an atmospheric hum and a groove of syncopated
down beats. Most evocative of an updated Another Green World, he
blends pop and ambient elements, and one can only dream of getting
the chance to ask Eno what the song is about, in expectance that
he would answer “this,” or maybe “that.”
“Enossification” abounds (Enossification being a concept
first introduced on Genesis’ art-rock masterpiece The
Lamb Lies Down On Broadway, in reference to Eno’s penchant
for maddened production tweaking and wobbly voices), as does a spaced-out
atmosphere – sometimes to a fault, as in sleepy numbers like
“And Then So Clear” and “Going Unconscious,”
where meticulously produced ambience nearly undermines the “album
full of songs” promised on The Beeb.
Ambience is expected, though a complete departure from it would
have been neither unwelcome nor uncharacteristic. There is the part
of any fan of Eno’s early work that wishes, against all odds,
that Another Day On Earth will transport us back to 1974,
when the Enonator was creating perfect pop music and squelching
it all to hell, into the farthest reaches of left field, taking
the Silver Apples paradigm of undulating, screeching electronics
slithering and buzzing around a catchy framework, and applying it
to his own ultra-intellectual glam-charged perspective. A lack of
full-out foppish grandiosity (see “The Paw Paw Negro Blowtorch”
on Here Come The Warm Jets), brain-bustingly catchy, upbeat numbers
(see “The True Wheel” on Taking Tiger Mountain (By Strategy))
is a bit of a bummer for those who’ve been waiting, but Eno
proves, at the very least, that when he does return home to dabble
in the poppier side of things, he’s able to do so perfectly.
Another Day On Earth is a disc that has its root in sleepy
ambience, but when it emerges out of the fog and into classic Eno-style
lullabies, one can’t help but think the guy’s still
got it – with points in “This” finding his unmistakable
voice stretching melodies on forever in the form of “ah-eeh-ah-eeh-ahs,”
and tracks like “How Many Worlds” evoking classics like
“Some Of Them Are Old.” One won’t hear “Blank
Frank” or “King’s Lead Hat” here, but will
be more than content hearing throwbacks to the earth-moving wistfulness
of “Taking Tiger Mountain” or “On Some Faraway
Beach.” Another Day On Earth is neither a culmination
of stylistic exploration for the one-man musical nexus, nor an attempt
to relive any particular point in his career, and perhaps rather
than attempting to sum up what the album is, it’s enough to
say that it’s nice to hear his voice again. Another day on
earth, another Eno disc, and hopefully not the last time he chooses
to grace the world with a few songs intended to have a beginning
and an end. —Matthew A. Stern
|
 |
Benoit
Pioulard
Enge
Moodgadget
A2P rating: 4.5
The
four songs on Ann Arbor artist Benoit Pioulard’s 7”
Enge are startlingly pretty, wistful and glistening among
gossamer threads of guitar, shimmery electronic and whispery vocals.
In less than 12 minutes, Pioulard creates an entire world, awash
in the same nouvelle vague mood that Air occasionally taps into;
some passages would not be inappropriate as a soundtrack to a ’60s
French movie starring Anouk Aimee. No track disappoints. “Pinconning,”
the opening track, is a jaunty, cheerful promenade. “Kids
Are Getting Younger” arches and swoops through unpredictable,
compelling moods. “Es/sa” is an atmospheric mood-setter,
more ambient than the rest; it’s less rewarding and original
than the other three tracks, too. “Sparrowfield,” the
final song, closes with gentle repetition and a lightly strumming
guitar, to grand, melancholy effect. What is Pioulard saying? I
have no idea—I cannot identify the language as English or
French, the two most obvious suspects, or as anything else—but
it sounds intriguing.
All four songs share an organic, effervescent mood and an almost
folky sense of dreaminess. Enge is an auspicious release,
and we’ll be keeping tabs on Benoit Pioulard. In the meantime,
try to get your hands on one of the 300 copies of this 7”.
It’s a small, quiet effort, exquisite at times, that hints
at great things to come.—Melanie Novak
|
 |
