bedroombadview

You are right: the idea of the plastic bag is not bad, maybe one of those used in concentration camps. I was referring to the lack of emphasis given to the splendid box with the oversized packaging. A rare commodity in the era of anonymous and mass downloading.
I also abhor the idea that one of my favorite bands in my youth was politically (consciously) Nazi: the thought chills me, and if it were true, may I be damned for every time I danced to the tunes of Disorder. But allow me, before I collapse struck by divine wrath, one last speech in my favor: we are the petty bourgeoisie who have time and money to waste in the self-indulgence of parasitizing the creativity of others; Thatcher was elected in '79 but had been wreaking havoc since '75 as the leader of the Conservatives: she had it easy, benefiting from the rising disappointment towards Labour and riding the social tension to establish herself and manage the economic decline of Albion with fascist purges promoting racism and unemployment. This is not an insult: the musical renaissance of the era is also owed to her. It is also a fact that history seems to repeat itself in other latitudes as well. Bye.
P.S. Cosmic Couriers, not Cosmic Warriors.

You forget to mention that Heart & Soul (at least in the version I know) is a delightful box set and how Curtis's dark evil has impacted the musical and existential fates of the protagonists.
As for the Nazi aesthetic and the American dream cherished by those you call Mancunian petty bourgeois, those seem to be completely out-of-place references: it would be enough to historicize the band, especially the Thatcherism that saw its birth, to understand its decadent attitude and the surrender to the charm—teenage charm, to be precise—of "No Future." Remember? Swastikas then also adorned the tattered blouses of those who hailed anarchy and sang about the boredom and anger induced by the stars and stripes empire. Simple provocation, seasoned with a good dose of ignorance, exercised by those who demonstrated an existential discomfort translatable into a sincere and loud feeling, opposed to the mature and aware "American dream" you refer to.

Let’s call it the instinct of the "non-listener." However, in the remote chance I should change my mind, I promise a public atonement by giving the highest vote to Him and to you. I swear.

For the record: the Rolling Stones are a group of old-timers who still love to rock out hard. They're a bunch of jokers, relentlessly wandering the stages around the world instead of facing the risky paths of life. And spouting nonsense.
There is only one possible explanation for the embarrassing statement: K. Richards, while enjoying yet another post-coitum cigarette emerging from the thighs of a Scorpions groupie, mumbles "hero of the Hard On" with an open mic. And the press twists it.

Eno, a terrible "non-musician," and thus an excellent artist, has over time become a great "non-musician," or a good craftsman. This does not detract from the fact that he will rightly be remembered as one of the leading figures in music from the last century.
The work in question? It's difficult to be the heir of oneself; nevertheless, I want to hurt myself and give it a listen: if my thoughts are merely the assertions of a nostalgic biased person, I will willingly atone for my grave sin by listening to "Another Day On Earth" for a whole week.
(...you will, however, agree with me that its graphic design makes it excessively unmarketable: it looks like a "Made To Measure" that's past its prime...)

The yearning for transcendence that has characterized much of Kosmische musik annoys me. It's my limitation, I acknowledge it: I would have liked to be swept away elsewhere, towards the idealized Arcadia of these prophetic musicians and find solace from everyday oblivion, but I've never succeeded.
Perhaps it's because I don't do drugs, and I prefer the singing catechesis of "thank you Lord, thank you" to the celebrated spiritualism.
Instead, I adore modernity and dissolution as stylized by various Ralf & Florian, Can, Neu, Faust, contemporaries and compatriots of the P.V., really Sturm und Drang and often gratuitously associated with the K.M. movement.
1973 delivered young German music to history: it is credited with bringing rock to the extreme formal and ideal consequences; from 1974 onward, other things were heard, and it was a good thing.
Especially for those who still haven’t digested the krauts today.

Having stated that I own the original vinyl, I add that I haven't listened to it in ages and that the ambient album by Eno I preferred to listen to in my youth was the least conceptual (or simply the most inspired) of his works, "Apollo." I admit I miss those lazy afternoons spent courting my ego, flattered by the sonic camouflages of rustles and crackles. Analog anomalies back then, digital fascination today, the age of glitch. Could it be that Eno invented that too?