Manafonistas

Vom ersten bis zum letzten Ton ergreift mich Brian Enos neues Album, und das  mit äusserst asketisch in Szene gesetzten Worten (rätselhaft, verwunderlich, romantisch, traurig, archaisch). Was für ein Werk, das das Ende der Zeiten in dunkel funkelndes, fraktales Licht rückt, verstörend und human, oder sollten wir sagen „post-human“?

Das Feuer ist hier in seinem Element, von Glühwürmchen („fireflies“) über Flammen bis hin zur von Menschenhand geschaffenen Hölle. Nicht zu vergessen all die Dinge, die im Feuer unseres eigenen Lebens verloren gegangen sind (soweit wir uns erinnern können). Manchmal, aus der Ferne, fügt sich alles (die Verluste zuerst, und die Hände, die noch zu halten sind) an seinen Platz.

Keine Ohrwürmer, keine Singalongs, keine märchenhafte Suche nach Parallelwelten, keine Hooks, keine zukünftigen Evergreens, oh, halt, auf ihre ganz eigene Art und Weise schlagen diese Songs, die man als moderne Lamentos bezeichnen könnte, eine Sammlung zukünftiger „Everblues“ zumindest, eine ganz besondere, andere Note und Ecke in Brian Enos Liedschaffen an.

Seine Stimme ist gut gealtert, sie greift nach dem tieferen Spektrum. Sie hat etwas von ihrer Verspieltheit verloren. Aber so ist es: Wenn sich einige Tore schließen, öffnen sich andere. Jeder Song hat eine andere Intonation und Stimmung: nachdenklich, beschwörend, am Rande des Abgrunds, beharrlich, skeptisch, verwundert.

„And how then could it be / That we appear at all? / In all this rock and fire / In all this gas and dust / Are we not each a flame? / All born to live in light / All born to give our light“.

Eine andere Persona in jedem Stück. Hymnische Linien, stockender Sprechgesang, vom Verharren zum Verschwinden, eine Variation zu Krapps letztem Band, und dann wieder grosses Kino, wenn das flüchtige Ich ein einziges Mal „my love“ anspricht? Der Keim der Hoffnung lässt sich vielleicht im fremdartigen Gemurmel des Schlusstracks erkennen, dem alle vertraute Sprache abhanden gekommen ist.

Das Album ist ätherisch, erschütternd, weltverloren, eindringlich (ohne falsche Erhabenheiten), und seltsam tröstlich (aller Düsternis zum Trotz). Die Klänge, die Eno und sein innerer Kreis erzeugen, als „jenseitig“ zu bezeichnen, wäre ein Klischee. Vielleicht liegt die Kühnheit des Ganzen in der Kollision von Intimität und Ferne, Sehnsucht und Trauer. „Foreverandevernomore“ ist (wie Leah Kardos mir schrieb), „ein fantastisches Album, das zu seinen besten Arbeiten überhaupt gehört. Zutiefst bewegend und  faszinierend umgesetzt“.

(Verstreutes und Zusammengefegtes zu FOREVERANDEVERNOMORE, nach ein paar Hördurchgängen.)

A stunning new song-based vocal album, erstaunlich, wie genau der Werbeaufkleber auf dem neuen Eno Album ist. FOREVERANDEVERNOMORE verzichtet weitgehend auf Songs, ebenso wie ich eine Stimme, aber meistens keinen Gesang höre. Rezitation, etwas in einer Art Sprechgesang singen oder vortragen, psalmodieren. Die Wurzeln dieser Soundscapes entstammen der Welt des Pop Songs, gleichzeitig klingen Enos Arbeiten der letzten 5 Jahrzehnte mit; es ist immer wieder erstaunlich, welche Vielfalt aus einem faserigen, holzigen Stück Materie entstehen kann. 

Die Welt wird so wie wir sie kennen nicht fortbestehen. Homo Sapiens hat die zahlreichen anderen Menschenarten verdrängt, ist für das Aussterben unzähliger anderer Lebewesen verantwortlich und auf dem besten Weg, sich selbst die Lebensgrundlagen auf diesem Planeten zu entziehen. Was soll nun werden hier auf Erden/Lebensraum von Mensch und Tier/Wenn die Leute sich gebärden/Als wären sie alleine hier/Sie führen Krieg gegen die Schöpfung/Und werden nicht aus Schaden klug/Senden Botschaften ins All/Und sind doch nicht einsam genug heißt es in einem talking blues von Jochen Distelmeyer. Von solch direkten Botschaften ist Brian Eno hier weit entfernt, der Grundton ist ähnlich, these billion years will end. Der Ausweg – falls es ihn gibt: ein Verzaubern der Welt, ein Wahrnehmen der Schönheit – nicht um uns herum, äußerlich, sondern Bestandteil von uns, all this is made of me. FOREVERANDEVERNOMORE macht die Schönheit und die Trauer um ihr Verschwinden hörbar – Ascheregen, Tagpfauenaugen, ausgetrocknete Flüsse, Glühwürmchen (the stars of starless nights), überschwemmte Städte, Wälder, Bäume auf ausgestorbenen Parkhäusern. All this is made of me. 

Zerbrechliche und invasive Klanglandschaften, immer wieder regnen Klangpartikel hinab, Flächen öffnen sich und schließen den Zuhörenden ein, bis dann wieder scharfe Splitter die Umhüllung aufreißen, neue Räume öffnen. Alles klingt genau so fein nuanciert und austariert wie man es von Brian Eno erwarten darf. Die Stimme ist ein Klang unter vielen: ein heidnischer Priester raunt zerbrechlich & sorgend, aber auch teilnahmslos, Botschaften aus der Zukunft. Ein Klagelied auf die Vernichtung unseres Planeten, aus jedem Ton spricht eine Hoffnung/Transformation aus jedem Klang/aus jedem Ton, spricht eine Hoffnung/auf einen Neuanfang (Tocotronic).

Das ganze Album ist ein Wunder, atemberaubend; There Were Bells läßt die Zeit still stehen.

From the first sound to the last, „Foreverandevernomore“ grabs me with horizons unknown and words (enigmatic, wondering, romantic, sorrowful, archaic) sparsely put in scene. What an album putting in perspective the end of times, disturbing and human, or should we say post-human? Fire is in its element here, from fireflies to flames and man-made hell. Not forgetting all things lost in the fire of our own lives (as far as we can remember). Sometimes, from a distance, everything (losses first, and hands still to hold) falls into place. No catchy songs, no singalongs, no fairytale searches of parallel worlds, no hooks, no future evergreens, oh, hold on, in their own peculiar way these songs which could be coined as modern day lamentations, a collection of future „everblues“ at least, striking quite a special, different note and corner in Brian Eno‘s song works. His singing has aged well, reaching out for the deeper spectrum. The voice has lost some of its playfulness. But so it goes: if some gates are closing, others open up. Every song is fuelled with a different voicing and mood: reflective, hymnal, on the verge of falling apart, persisting, sceptical. A different persona in every track. Isn‘t it wonderful, for example, that the singing one (at one, and only one time) is adressing „my love“?! The seeds of hope can perhaps be detected in the alien murmuring of the closing track. The album is haunting, uncanny, ethereal, anti-nostalgic, beautiful in a dark way, and strangely consolating (despite all its eeriness). To call the sounds of Eno and his inner circle (working here) „otherworldly“, would be a bit of a cliché. Maybe the boldness of it all lies in the collision of the intimate and the faraway, the yearning and the mourning. I think „Foreverandevernomore“ is (as Leah Kardos wrote to me), „a fantastic album, up there with his best work ever. Profoundly moving, and beautifully executed.“

What do these two albums have in common (one released in January 2019, the other will come out on Oct. 14)?  That question I asked myself when listening to them one after the other lately, on a long and winding thursday afternoon. There probably was no other radio show in the last three decades that had works of ECM and Eno on such high rotation than my version of „Klanghorizonte“. So what is it that made me put a focus on these two „areas“ apart from taste and being faithful to a beloved habit – comparable to old brave hippies who never checked out of Hotel California. It‘s all horizons, that maybe one possible answer in three words. „It‘s all horizons“, Eno sings in one of the new songs, and „Horizons Touched“ is the title of a book on the history and aesthetics of ECM Records and „Magus“ Manfred Eicher. Both hold one another in high estimation, but never met in person. By the time Jon Hassell‘s „Power Spot“ (produced by Eno and Lanois, and surprisingly released on ECM), they exchanged faxes, probably kind words, and that was it.

Speaking horizons, look at the covers. Though coming from two very different musical languages, „Trio Tapestry“ and „Foreverandevernomore“ share a special handling of space and breath. Both have moments of (discreet) eruption and a stunning care for details. In the words of Joe Lovano (liner notes): „Themes and compositions that are peaceful and spiritual in nature to fuel our ideas and create music within the music. A spirit lake, an unpredictable smiling dog, the rare beauty of expression (…)“. In the words of Leah Kardos (Wire, Nov. 2022): „These are songs with enveloping atmospheres that dramatise their lyrics with crisping, gasping, blinding, thundering, quietly screaming sound design.“

Both long-players are incredibly well sequenced by Manfred Eicher and Brian Eno. Joe Lovano told me (funny enough, in Bonn, a town that literally appears in „Sherry“) how deeply impressed he had been when finally listening to the vinyl. The lines of suspense, the track-by-track order, their impact! The same with Brian’s record. The instrumental „Inclusion“ is silently blowing you away (at the end of the first side), and „Making Gardens Out Of Silence“ is the best choice for the final cut.

There is no replacement for listening – old school – from start to end. Not forgetting all things lost in the fire of our lives (as far as we can remember). Sometimes, from a distance, everything (losses first, and hands still to hold) falls into place.  No catchy songs, no singalongs, no fairytale searches of parallel worlds, no hooks, no future evergreens, oh, hold on, in their own peculiar way these songs which could be coined as modern day lamentations, a collection of future „everblues“ at least, striking quite a special, different note, corner in Brian Eno‘s song life. The album is haunting, uncanny, ethereal, strangely elevating, anti-nostalgic. „Always there / For the last hooray / Last light of an old sun.“ 

Then again (change of scene), the follow-up of „Trio Tapestry“, „Garden Of Expression“, lives up to the high standard of the first meeting in New York. (Let’s go sideways for a while.) Now with a deeper touch of Provence pastel and colours at dusk. You can think of every jazz writing cliche of praise, from „filigree“ to „elemental“, and be sure that Lovano, Crispell and Castaldi are breathing new life into it. After the first three pieces of pure baladry (written by soul, not by the book), the appearances of sound take more and more adventurous side steps, from moments of pianistic unrest and upheaval, to an exploration of metal and sound in Castaldi‘s drum figures. A zen-like purity‘s bold pairing with an adventurous spirit. The record delivers everything with grace, selflessness and the most nuanced sense of tempo, time standing still and a flow of undercurrents. If this sounds slightly over the top, let the music take over, dim the lights and follow the tapestries!

And, in regards to Eno, the instruction manual for „Foreverandevernomore“ is closing in with the same simple sentences: „The record delivers everything with grace, selflessness and the most nuanced sense of  tempo, time standing still and a flow of undercurrents. If this sounds slightly over the top, let the music take over, dim the lights and follow the tapestries!“ 

The Conviviality of Solitary Games

When it comes to autumn, and winter still months, or a cover, away, journalists and music lovers take a deep breath looking at the records (so far) that do not only turn to be part of the annual magic list, but have the potential of becoming life‘s company. In regards to song albums, I have the luck to now have heard my stunning „quartet of song albums“ in its entirety, everyone of them being a challenge and a reward.

September songs, October songs, autumnal they all are in certain ways. And lifers, for sure. IMO. And though I am obliged to keep my reviews unwritten and unpublished till the week before the albums‘ release, it is easy to name them, realizing some quite great songworks didn‘t make it to my dozen albums of 2022. But here, the soulfood collection, a labour of love each of them. 

One thought beforehand: don‘t believe anyone telling you these albums are too far out and not easy to approach. The only requirement: open ears, time, time, time. And quietness. And not thinking of the good old 70‘s! No jukeboxes around anyway! Bill Callahan‘s work may be his quietest of all, but a whole lot is going on between acoustic strumming, words delivered with measurance, and delicate arrangements – all flirting with the elemental, and reaching out for the deep.

Lambchop‘s album (the double vinyl comes along orange-marbled) may even appear stranger than the enigmatic brilliance of   „Showtunes“, but it is an equally shining star. More cinemascope, but the same degree of little gestures, discreet offerings, slow motion observations. Profound music of highest order, and food for thought.

As is Brian Eno‘s trip to the stars, not forgetting all things lost in the fire of our lives (as far as we can remember). Sometimes, from a distance, everything (losses first, and hands still to hold) falls into place.  An hour of true vibrations! No catchy songs, no singalongs, no fairytale searches of parallel worlds, no hooks, no future evergreens, oh, hold on, in their own peculiar way these songs which could be coined as modern day lamentations, a collection of future „everblues“ at least, striking quite a special, different note, corner in Brian Eno‘s song life. The album is haunting, uncanny, ethereal, anti-nostalgic, lost in space, and, simply said, beautiful in a dark way.

And, the only work available today and for some time now, waiting for you at your local record store, is the „retro existential wonderland“ of Father John Misty‘s double album „Chloé and The Next 20th Century“. Four impressive song albums in a row, and a great companion to it, another autumnal album without songs sung or spoken, Dutch pianist Wolfert Brederode‘s awesome „Ruins and Remnants“, coming later this year, a lifer, too, with piano, percussion, a string quartet. And Manfred Eicher.

Perhaps the reason I was never a real fan of Roxy Music was they had the wrong singer. This, of course being an offense for Roxy Music die-hards, may raise eyebrows. In hindsight I would have preferred Eno taking center age on the first two albums, but then again, with a voice not perfectly suited for stadium rock, the band might only have gained underground status, who the fuck knows, you can‘t rewrite history. So, when „For Your Pleasure“ was circling our tables in school, I only became mildly interested. (Ferry did a great job, no doubt, but I was looking for something else. Paradoxically, my favourite Roxy album, one I really liked, was „Stranded“, the first without Eno.) This all changed on a rainy December day 1975 in Würzburg, when my first copy of an Eno album blocked my record player for weeks, „Taking Tiger Mountain (By Strategy)“. The songs, their sonic textures, their singing voice, their lyrics had an entrancing quality, and I knew from the start, I had found another favourite musician – and singer. Here‘s an interview with Brian (Detroit, 1974 – the deep static mix).

As time goes by. Now, after those other, quite rare song- or song-related albums (all a class of their own), Here Come The Warm Jets“, „Another Green World“, „Before and After Science“ (close the 70‘s at this point), „Wrong Way Up“ (with Cale), „Drawn From Life“ (with Schwalm), „Another Day On Earth“, „Someday World“ (with Hyde), and „The Ship“ (close the next four decades at this point), here we will have another song cycle, to be released on October 14, „Foreverandeevernomore“ – no catchy songs, no singalongs, no fairytale searches of parallel worlds, no hooks, no future evergreens, oh, hold on, in their own peculiar way these songs which could be coined as modern day lamentations, may contain a collection of future „everblues“ at least, striking quite a special, different note, corner, space, in Brian Eno‘s song life. The album is a challenge, haunting, uncanny, ethereal, anti-nostalgic, lost in space, beautiful in a dark way, and a fantastic melting of ambient and song worlds. Even Scott Walker, I guess, would love it in his tower of song, Leonard anyway. (My German review will be posted in the days of release, as will a second review of mine, in English language, on the same day. Two reviews, each of them coming from a differerent angle.)

Da gibt es wieder Figuren in der Landschaft seiner Kompositionen, wie bei Caspar David Friedrich, und seinem Kreidefelsen auf Rügen, sie sind aber noch viel weniger konturiert, viel weniger verlässlich, erproben keine Weisheit, nur unbestimmte Weite, letzte und vorletzte Gedanken (wie bei Krapp oder Molloy), lassen still verlauten, verschwinden, schultern (an und ab) flüchtige Melodien, Figuren einer Melodie – und einmal heisst es sogar „my love“.  (m.e.)

There were birds above
They sang it the whole day through
And the sky revolved a pink to golden blue
All the roads through time
Weave the world’s long rhyme
Let it all unravel in a sea of pearls and swine

There were bells above
That rang the whole day through
And the sky was shot with light and hazy blue
Early days of winter sun
All the days turned into one
All the sirens beckoning the crew

There were horns as loud as war that tore apart the sky
There were storms and floods of blood a human high
Never mind my love, let’s wait for the dove
Fly back to tell us there’s a haven showing night
There were those who ran away,
There were those who had to stay
In the end, they all went the same way