Brian Eno – Here Come the Warm Jets – 1974
Does Adam Ant owe his entire career to Brian Eno? What about Russell Mael from Sparks? Bowie? I think they all do, in some regard. Surely, without Eno there could be no Kings of the Wild Frontier. Or Gary Numan’s Replicas.
I am the first to say that I am NOT versed in Roxy Music or Eno beyond his work as a producer.
What comes to mind, though, and maybe this is why I’ve had so much trouble with him, is that he seems to approach music in such a literate and constructed manner that I find it very hard to penetrate. It’s beautiful, lush and at times resplendent, sure. But, isn’t it kind of soulless? I can’t imagine the guy who makes this music ever crying. He strikes me as the kind of person who sees art and tells you what it means. Or hears a joke and says, “that’s funny” but doesn’t laugh.
That’s not too dissimilar from the bands that I mentioned up front. You wouldn’t call Sparks, Adam Ant, Gary Numan, as confessional. Even though, in their own weird way, they are. Numan is famous now for coming out as a sufferer of Asperger’s Syndrome and I think that’s maybe what I feel from Eno. I don’t know that he would ever be able to let me in. His soundscapes are remarkable, check out the work he did with Bowie in the 70s and Talking Heads in the 80s, but you wouldn’t want to play much of it at your wedding. Well, maybe “Heroes”.
Okay, all that contrarianism aside, just what do I think of Here Come The Warm Jets? If you like Pink Floyd and Andy Warhol, with a splash of classic British Invasion and maybe a hint of Velvet Undeground, this is the album for you. I’m probably not going to listen to Warm Jets while driving up the California coast, but that’s not what Eno wants me to do anyway. Truth is, I don’t think he gives a shit what I do. He’s doing stuff on this album that The Beatles only alluded to on White Album.
Butting up such beauty as “On Some Faraway Beach” next to the rhythmic Brit-pop chaos of “Blank Frank” is pure genius. Following it with a screed like “Dead Finks Don’t Talk” (I don’t think Eno and Bryan Ferry got on all that well toward the end) and then the hauntingly elgiac, “Some of them Are Old”, Eno comes up with one of the most original and bold pieces of music from the art rock movement. The title track, which codas the album is a wonderful example of melodic beauty and dischordance and probably is the very raison d’etre Beck exists.
I have no doubt that Eno’s brilliant. And Bowie was smart to hook up with him. Eno’s an innovator and Bowie is a copycat, but I can say this without a shred of doubt: I think Here Come The Warm Jets is a remarkable achievement and a sonic treat and I never want to hear it again.
Grade: A
ASide: Needle in the Camel’s Eye, Some of Them Are Old
BlindSide: Baby’s On Fire, Cindy Tells Me
DownSide: Driving Me Backwards
