•
Rating:
"Here we are, stop by this river. You and I, underneath the sky that's ever falling down, down, down... Ever falling down."
"Elsewhere" is a state of mind. A blank page. The continuous road line I have in front of my windshield. It has no ideas or declensions; it follows the perpetual and regular motion of an imaginary destination. These roads and places daily flee from innocent secrets, hide the lives of men in squared houses scattered among fields of orchids and red tulips, in a tiny and shabby bar with peeling walls, or in the off-road vehicle of the civil guard parked by the edges of the trees, guardians of the forest. Dreaming is sometimes a tortuous path, a Rubik's cube behind subtle sensations and hermetic seasons. My hands are fixed on the steering wheel, and the speedometer needle is steady at the average of seventy forbidden by the sign on the straight road. "Elsewhere" I could lose myself in vague and abstract thoughts while the green countryside flows by the windows. In a long, endless pacifying silence where individualism returns as the protagonist, and the main road leads to the sacred river, guardian of angels and demons. The asphalt now disappears into rushing waters, the sky is the sovereign mirror of the earth, and the earth the absolute reflection of the skies.
I look for an old Sony cassette in the glove compartment and find it. Side A "Before And After Science", Side B "Q: Are We Not Men?, A: We Are Devo!" A child smiles and waves at me from the swing of a small lawn; I steer right before stopping at the intersection. No One Receiving. I release the clutch and slowly accelerate. The percussion carpet of Phil Collins plays relentlessly and familiarly, a precursor of ethno/world scents and white-funk contaminations; an unprecedented chimera in '77. The voice of the demigod Eno declaims in a narcotic mantra, supported by the bass lines of Brian Turrington. Backwater is a pop/rock nursery rhyme with new-wave embroidery, with quick yet effective melodic synth incursions, and Kurt's Rejoinder a brief atmospheric syncopation. I observe, with passive detachment, a dog with a sad look and gray patches, walking tiredly along the ditch. Meanwhile, I bob my head back and forth to the pressing and danceable notes, among piano dissonances, epileptic electronics, and neurotic guitars, of the cerebral King's Lead Hat (an anagram of Talking Heads, of which Brian Eno was a historical producer and almost a fifth member for three albums, up to the epochal Remain In Light). Here He Comes is an immortal gem, demonstrating the immense intellectual class of the former Roxy Music in an often underrated pop context: a light and refined melody, simple and so perfect that it seems to have a new beginning every time, like cyclical smoke circles in the air. Julie With... lives on impalpable and rarefied pauses, on the deafening memory turned into a silent shroud of misty keyboards. Spatial and temporal suspensions bearing the unmistakable hallmark of the artisan/manipulator Eno, a subliminal and ethereal ambient-pop. If human thought had a sound to represent it, perhaps it would be this.
Through Hollow Hills is a wonderful instrumental dedicated to Harold Budd, clouds of dreamy electronics over metaphysical landscapes dear to Salvador Dalí. Approaching a huge gate, I decide to turn back and engage reverse for a quick U-turn. I savor again the infinite backdrop of the fields I left, the smell of fertile nature in spring, the farmer herding a disobedient flock. By This River probably does not belong to this world, at least not to the world of ostentatious and blind superficiality of these years. By This River is a prayer gathered in the depths of the soul, the zen calm in universal chaos, a masterpiece of melancholic piano notes and soft keyboards embraced by the minimal singing of Eno. The memorable inner journey of the "before and after science" ends with the moved finale of the elegiac Spider And I, which erases torment and doubt in a cosmic peace of senses, dominated by an eternal and solemn synth.
Someone said that time is the memory of man, dust in the hourglass of our existences. Before And After Science by Brian Eno then transcends discussions, fashions, eras, and governments. A work of extreme and lucid popular synthesis, it crumbles what has been to open the doors to a new era, "beyond science" and damnably influential on our present. Incredible to say for an album released in 1977, made by what remains the greatest producer in history with contributions from Robert Fripp, Phil Manzanera, Collins, and Cluster: the alchemist Brian Eno does not smooth corners or edges, his extraordinary touch is almost invisible during recording, making his works "natural" and austere in their strict formal rigor.
So I head back home, caressing the thought of this quiet and absorbed Sunday afternoon, and turn left at the stop near the intersection. That subdued-paced dog, glimpsed a while ago, sits in the shade of the big golden hayfield. It doesn't look at me; its eyes are distant, seeking shelter from loneliness. The blond child is still on the lawn playing, hears the car noise and gives a shy wave. He smiles at me, serenely. I see him and wave back. Even though I haven't opened my mouth, I would have liked to shout at him with all my lungs just "hello."
Tracklist Lyrics Samples and Videos
02 Backwater (03:42)
Backwater
We're sailing at the edges of time
Backwater
We're drifting at the waterline
Oh, we're floating in the coastal waters
You and me and the porter's daughters
Ooh what to do, not a sausage to do
And the shorter of the porter's daughters
Dips her hand in the deadly waters
Ooh what to do, in a tiny canoe
Black water
There were six of us but now we are five
We're all talking
To keep the conversation alive
There was a senator from Ecuador
Who talked about a meteor
That crashed on a hill in the south of Peru
And was found by a conquistador
Who took it to the Emperor
And he passed it on to a Turkish guru
His daughter
Was slated for becoming divine
He taught her
He taught her how to split and define
But if you study the logistics
And heuristics of the mystics
You will find that their minds rarely move in a line
So it's much more realistic
To abandon such ballistics
And resign to be trapped on a leaf in the vine
03 Kurt's Rejoinder (02:53)
Burger cruising just above the ground ground ground
And gunner puts a burnish on his steel
Anna with her feelers moving round round round
Is sharpening her needles on the wheel
Burger Bender bargain blender shine shine shine
And gunner burn the leader on the fuse
Bundle up the numbers counting three six nine
Here's Anna building webs across our shoes
Celebrate the loss of one and all all all
And separate the torso from the spine
Burger Bender bouncing like a ball ball ball
So Burger Bender bargain blender shine
Do the Do-si-do, do the Mirror Man
Do the Boston Crab, and the Allemande
Do the Do-si-do, do the Mirror Man
Do the Boston Crab, and the Allemande
Do the Do-si-do, do the Mirror Man
Do the Boston Crab, and the Allemande
Do the Do-si-do, do the Mirror Man
Do the Boston Crab, and the Allemande
Do the Do-si-do, do the Mirror Man
Do the Boston Crab, and the Allemande
Do the Do-si-do, do the Mirror Man
Do the Boston Crab, and the Allemande
Do the Do-si-do, do the Mirror Man
Do the Boston Crab, and the Allemande
Do the Do-si-do, do the Mirror Man
Do the Boston Crab, and the Allemande
Do the Do-si-do, do the Mirror Man
Do the Boston Crab, and the Allemande
04 Energy Fools the Magician (02:03)
We haven't lyrics of this song. Please, add these lyrics for other users. Use "Correct". Thanks to you.
05 King's Lead Hat (03:57)
Dark alley (dark alley) black star
Four turkeys in a big black car
The road is shiny (bright shine) the wheels slide
Four turkeys going for a dangerous ride
The lacquer crackles (black tar) the engines roar
A ship was turning broadside to the shore
Splish splash I was raking in the cash
The biology of purpose keeps my nose above the surface, oh
King's lead hat put the innocence inside her
It will come, it will come, it will surely come
King's lead hat was a mother to desire
It will come, it will come, it will surely come
In New Delhi (smelly Delhi) and Hong Kong
They all know that it won't be long
I count my fingers (digit counter) as night falls
And draw bananas on the bathroom walls
The killer cycles (humdrum) the killer hertz
The passage of my life is measured out in shirts
Time and motion (motion carried) time and tide
All I know and all I have is time and time and tide is on my side
King's lead hat put the poker in the fire
It will come, it will come, it will surely come
King's lead hat was a mother to desire
It will come, it will come, it will surely come
The weapon's ready (ready Freddy) the guns purr
The satellite distorts his voice to a slur
He gives orders (finger pie) which no one hears
The king's hat fits over their ears
He takes his modicate [indecipherable] cold turpentine
He tries to dial out 999999999
He dials reception (moving finger) he's all alone
He's just a victim of the telephone
King's lead hat made the Amazon much wider
It will come, it will come, it will surely come
King's lead hat put the poker in the fire
It will come, it will come, it will surely come
King's lead hat was a mother to desire
It will come, it will come, it will surely come
King's lead hat put the innocence inside her
It will come, it will come, it will surely come
07 Julie With... (06:24)
I am on an open sea
Just drifting as the hours go slowly by
Julie with her open blouse
Is gazing up into the empty sky.
Now it seems to be so strange here
Now it's so blue
The still sea is darker than before...
No wind disturbs our coloured sail
The radio is silent, so are we
Julie's head is on her arm
Her fingers brush the surface of the sea.
Now I wonder if we'll be seen here
Or if time has left us all alone
The still sea is darker than before...
08 By This River (03:01)
Here we are
Stuck by this river
You and I
Underneath the sky that's ever falling down, down, down
Ever falling down
Through the day
As if on an ocean
Waiting here
Always failing to remember why we came, came, came
I wonder why we came
You talk to me
As if from a distance
And I reply
With impressions chosen from another time, time, time
From another time
10 Spider and I (04:25)
Spider and I sit watching the sky
On a world without sound
We knit a web to catch one tiny fly
For our world without sound
We sleep in the mornings
We dream of a ship that sails away
A thousand miles away.
Loading comments slowly
Other reviews
By trellheim
A journey. Physical and mental. A shift, almost a leap into the void, an unknown city and an unknown album.
Ten small sound paintings... a visual journey, as well as a mental one, that reveals a little of what truly lies before and after science.
By zaireeka
I like to think that the musician... consciously separated his album into two parts.
The end of childhood, which clearly coincides with... our clear awareness of not being immortal.
