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Rating:
This album, perhaps, even more than Before and After Science, Eno is a genius, the destructive/constructive power is something exceptional.
The record opens with "Burning Airlines Give You So Much More" and it is a breath of pure and crystalline air at 100%, after a few seconds of strumming the drums mark the martial time with a bittersweet piano in the background, all accompanied by Eno's extraordinary voice, and then the piano becomes stronger and sharply chisels the diamond that coats the music with a multitude of facets that would seem randomly made. And during all this, columns of synths (I believe this is the instrument) rise majestically and unstoppably into the invisible sky and then disappear with a quick but progressive fade effect to the hearing and sight. During the song, there are also moans coming from the sewer, but we silence anyone in the sewers by stomping on the manhole cover and resonating our joyful bursts of vitality.
And it's love at first listen.
Okay, let's move on to the second track, "Back in Judy's Jungle," I don't know if I will succeed... I'll try. A child taps the drumsticks on the drum after which Eno's voice becomes the protagonist, the drums continue incessantly like a sexual machine, and one enjoys it. The childish veil of naivety constituted by the voice and various whistles is swept away by an imposing synthesizer that initially goes against the stream but then gives in to the irresistible melody. And we see all these characters (both human and not) making up the song going away hopping arm in arm along their own path.
Third song: "The Fat Lady of Limbourg". The synthesizer intones dark, sad, and soulless bass tones, on which Eno slowly and epically declares something in English (which I do not understand, so you'll have to deal with it), the trumpets come in from the sides, Eno continues with his simple warbles interspersed by a robotic and foreign voice.
I am tired, experiencing all these emotions and describing them all at once is extremely exhausting.
Fourth track: "Mother Whale Eyeless" which so far is my least favorite. A bass plays and the notes are surrounded by little circles that spin ever upward, noises (evidently someone is being punished in the other room with whips), Eno emerges again from the door with his undulating voice and the real song starts, but it is too cheerful and predictable. The previous atmospheres resume. And again the merry tune returns, but the guitar becomes more present, then the rhythm changes and a female choir accompanied by an organ sings with violaceous voices, it almost seems that Eno has modified his voice, but I am not sure. The singer resumes with the happy music and the guitar becomes more daring, the sticks strike the drums, the cymbals, and everything fades again.
I'm scared, it's one o'clock at night, the TV is off and so it can't keep me company because the remote doesn't work anymore and the only available channel is 5, then mom told me she heard a noise on the balcony, a car screech almost gave me a heart attack and I imagine a deformed alien wolf head suddenly but slowly poking out from behind the shape of my bed's duvet. Have you ever seen John Carpenter's movie "The Thing"? If you haven't seen it, well, don't. I put my headphones back on to feel safer.
I have a crazy urge to keep talking to you about this album, but I'm exhausted.
You know... earlier I had a moment of something I don't know how to name, I wanted to do something shameful and incomprehensible. I was out of my mind and was listening to "Back in Judy's Jungle." It's such a complex thing that there is no word to describe what I felt. Every time I think about it, my mind is invaded, if only for this, the review would already be finished.
I need a doctor, something to vent on, please editors publish it for me, I'm desperate, this thing is eating me inside and psychologists don't take it seriously.
This album contains something primitively and insanely brilliant, stupid but crazy. Most of the songs are based on perverse and obsessive rhythms, at times almost schizoid and hopping. Not advised for those with heart conditions.
With this album, I am trying to exorcise my mental problem.
I wonder how Mr. Brian Eno could conceive all this without going out of his mind or severely stressed. Just listen to "Third Uncle" to realize it; I came to think it was a creation of my brain, something non-existent, that the incendiary guitar at 1:35 was impossible. And the concluding "Taking Tiger Mountain" seems like a mockery to me.
I recommend anyone who hasn't listened to it to do so.
I'm sending this "review" without rereading it, and I thank the creators of this site for giving me the opportunity to express myself.
I believe... yes, I think I'll go rest.
Tracklist Lyrics Samples and Videos
01 Burning Airlines Give You So Much More (03:15)
When I got back home I found a message on the door
Sweet Regina's gone to China crosslegged on the floor
Of a burning jet that's smoothly flying
Burning airlines give you so much more
How does she intend to live when she's in far Cathay
I somehow can't imagine her just planting rice all day
Maybe she will do a bit of spying
With microcameras hidden in her hair
I guess Regina's on a plane a Newsweek on her knees
While miles below the curlews call from strangely stunted trees
The painted sage sits just as though he's flying
Regina's jet disturbs his wispy beard.
When you reach Kyoto send a postcard if you can
And please convey my fond regards to Chih-Hao's girl Yu-Lan
I heard a rumour they were getting married
But someone left the papers in Japan.
Left them in Japan.
03 The Fat Lady of Limbourg (05:05)
Well, I rang up Pantucci,
Spoke to Lu-chi,
I gave them all
They needed to know.
If affairs are proceeding
As we're expecting,
Soon enough the weak spots will show.
I assume you understand that we have options on your time,
And will ditch you in the harbour if we must:
But if it all works out nicely,
You'll get the bonus you deserve
From doctors we trust.
The Fat Lady of Limbourg
Looked at the samples that we sent
And furrowed her brow.
You would never believe that
She'd tasted royalty and fame
If you saw her now.
But her sense of taste is such that she'll distinguish with her tongue
The subtleties a spectrograph would miss,
And announce her decision,
While demanding her reward:
The jellyfish kiss.
Now we checked out this duck quack
Who laid a big egg, oh so black
It shone just like gold.
And the kids from the city,
Finding it pretty, took it home,
And there it was sold.
It was changing hands for weeks till someone left it by their fire
And it melted to a puddle on the floor:
For it was only a candle, a Roman scandal oh oh oh,
Now it's a pool.
That's what we're paid for
That's what we're paid for
That's what we're paid for here.
05 The Great Pretender (05:10)
Monica sighed
Rolled on her side
She was so impressed that she just surrendered
She was moved by his wheels
She was just up from Wales
He was fueled by her coals and he was coming to catch her
Lose the sense of time
Nail down the blinds
And in the succulent dark there's a sense of ending
Joking aside
The mechanical bride
Has fallen prey to the Great Pretender.
Let me just point out discreetly
Though you never learn
All those tawdry late night weepies
I could make you weep more cheaply
As the empty moon enamels
Monica with spoons and candles
Bangs around without the light on
Furniture to get it right on
Settled in a homely fish pool
Hung with little eels
Often thinks that travel widens
'Stay at home, the trout obliges'
Monica sighed
Rolled on to her side
She was so impressed that she just surrendered.
06 Third Uncle (05:01)
There are tins
There was pork
There are legs
There are sharks
There was John
There are cliffs
There was mother
There's a poker
There was you
Then there was you.
There are scenes
There are blues
There are boots
There are shoes
There are Turks
There are fools
They're in lockers
They're in schools
There in you
Then there was you.
Burn my fingers
Burn my toes
Burn my uncle
Burn his books
Burn his shoes
Cook the leather
Put it on me
Does it fit me
Or you?
It looks tight on you.
09 China My China (05:45)
In the haze of the morning, China sits on Eternity
And the opium farmers sell dreams to obscure fraternities
On the horizon the curtains are closing
Down in the orchard the aunties and uncles play their games
(like it seems they always have done)
In the blue distance the vertical offices bear their names
(like it seems they always have done)
Clocks ticking slowly, dividing the day up
These poor girls are such fun they know what God gave them fingers for
(to make percussion over solos)
China my China, I've wandered around and you're still here
(which I guess you should be proud of)
Your walls have enclosed you, have kept you at home for thousands of years
(but there's something I should tell you)
All the young boys are dressing like sailors
I remember a man who jumped out from a window over the bay
(there was hardly a raised eyebrow)
The coroner told me 'This kind of thing happens every day'
You see, from a pagoda, the world is so tidy.
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Other reviews
By Dune Buggy
The eccentric Brian Peter George St. John le Baptiste de la Salle Eno with his oblique strategies has captured this something in a net that escapes any musical definition and classification.
The songs keep escaping from a fixed structure, we are surprised by the sudden entries of choirs and symphonic inspirations, the synthesizers work precisely on slide guitars.
By luludia
This music really seems to come from another planet, that you almost manage to see those vaporized and happy androids whistling these little songs on the street.
I use it as an antidepressant. And it works.
