Before And After Science - Brian Eno

...one has ever written about Before and After Science previously. When shopping for CDs in Paris I remember noticing that they had Before and After Science stickered as being one of the 100 most important albums of all time and rightly so. This is Eno’s final album (barring Wrong Way Up perhaps) before he eschewed conventional song writing for purely ambient and more experimental music, though like Another Green World, Before and After Science (for ...
...These Lands. Pop is Before Science; the experimental is After Science; this being all the more obvious when considering much of Eno’s early ambient was no more than him running a feedback loop through various ‘whatnots’ (being the technical term); Fripp described drinking tea in Eno’s front room as in the room in the back Eno’s music recorded itself.

At first it seems even Eno himself was originally blind to the possibilities of his ... more

I find it strange no one has ever written about Before and After Science previously. When shopping for CDs in Paris I remember noticing that they had Before and After Science stickered as being one of the 100 most important albums of all time and rightly so. This is Eno’s final album (barring Wrong Way Up perhaps) before he eschewed conventional song writing for purely ambient and more experimental music, though like Another Green World, Before and After Science (for now on to be referred to as: BAS) it is a mixture of song writing and his more experimental ambient.

The title suggests the duality in the album: the more pop orientated King’s Lead Hat and Backwater; then the more progressive, experimental nature of Kurt’s Rejoinder and Through These Lands. Pop is Before Science; the experimental is After Science; this being all the more obvious when considering much of Eno’s early ambient was no more than him running a feedback loop through various ‘whatnots’ (being the technical term); Fripp described drinking tea in Eno’s front room as in the room in the back Eno’s music recorded itself.

At first it seems even Eno himself was originally blind to the possibilities of his ambient music. Originally it was designed as a sonic backdrop to a solo tour by Robert Fripp, only Fripp encouraged him to release it himself and the resulting music became Eno’s Discreet Music, which I can’t help but think a remarkably fitting title.

But back to Before and After Science.

Eno opens with an accessible song that bounces along. No One Receiving is almost funky; with Percy Jones’ bass guitar keeping the song moving, it’s playfulness powering the song and allowing the erstwhile talent that is Phil Collins to indulge is some fantastically inventive drumming. Eno meanwhile adds his usual mixture of sounds; floating through the background is that hum of a dead radio channel; spiralling, bouncing sounds echo across the speakers giving texture and depth as his slightly warped vocals sound over the music. Eno’s wonderful percussion is a delight, reminding one of his sublime Sombre Reptiles from Another Green World. There is something curiously post-apocalyptic about the lyrics but that could just be me; I find that there is also something melancholic about the song; the distorted synthesizers in the background seem to speak of some terrible event. This is wonderfully song writing, really deeply textured music mixing so many sounds as to keep the listener forever finding something new to listen to, to pick up.

Backwater on the other hand is extremely different. It’s a song, yes, but its great strengths are its simplicity and Eno wonderful vocals. For once I find myself listening to the lyrics that illustrate Eno’s intelligence, erudition and wonderful sense of humour. The music is not as complex as on No One Receiving; yet it is amazingly effective. Eno’s guitar and piano repeat simple rhythms as does the percussion. The music mirrors the sound of the river on which the characters in the lyrics are trapped. But ah, the lyrics, wonderful, there’s no more to be said. An example:

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 you do not a sausage can 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.

The words keep the song moving; Eno’s vocals have never sounded so good; his hardly seems to be singing at all; he’s voice is just another instrument. It’s hard to describe just how pleasurable this song is because it’s fun in the most sophisticated sense possible.

In the same way it is almost impossible to describe Kurt’s Rejoinder as it has a near funky bass-riff but is grounded by Eno’s sustained synthesizers and his vocals that seem to mean nothing, it is the sound that matter, especially as he chants:

Do the Do-si-do, do the Mirror Man
Do the Boston Crab, do the Allemande.

Eno sounds as if singing fractured syllables. The Kurt of the title is, it seems, an abstract poet Kurt Schwitters and in the background, in amongst the sound of occasionally bird calls there can be heard his curious ululating words (though I’m not sure that they are words) from his “Ur Sonata” that may or may not have been treated by Eno, it seems almost impossible to tell. The whole effect is another one of Eno’s tapestries of sounds that should be a vile mess of sounds. Rather it is a subtle, progressive and oddly hypnotic song.

In the same manner Energy Fools the Magician is a mixture of sounds in which you can hear Eno’s attempt to layer sound. There is definitely something minimalist about it, beginning with delicate vibes and soft percussion; ambient, droning synthesizers much like early Frippian soundscapes (or more rightly Frippertronics) float over the surface of the music; beneath which occasion thuds of bass and Fred Frith’s treated guitar. It is a collection of sounds and rhythms woven together seamlessly into a whole piece of music that admittedly is not jump up and dance music. This is ambient, carefully intelligent music. It really forces you to interact with what you’re listening to; you have to listen out for the nuances. Perhaps this is something of a weakness as if you don’t it could seem a little like a mess of sounds. I imagine Energy Fools the Magician annoying or just plain boring some people, but really it sounds in many ways quite mysterious and enigmatic.

But then fades in the glorious, definitely pop-inspired King’s Lead Hat (an anagram of Talking Heads, though why I have no idea). This is the only instance of Eno guitar stalwarts Fripp and Phil Manzanera coming together to play on one track. Now this is exciting stuff, with two such different guitarists you can tell you’re in for something thrilling and thrilling it is. Eno’s slightly strident vocals play over thudding drums and layers of glorious repetitive rhythms and choppy metallic clapping. Finally a Fripp shimmering, Frippertronic, digital guitar solo that makes one love Fripp, and love Eno, for knowing that it is the perfect moment to use him. There is an amazing amount of energy and depth to King’s Lead Hat, grounded as it is by Manzanera’s rhythm guitar, blistering under Eno’s inspired use of sounds and slotting in of instruments. It pounds along, mixing so many sounds that I lose myself within it; for it is a song to get lost in, to explore and revel in its remorseless energy. There’s so much energy that the song doesn’t even end, it has to be faded out.

And then we slide into the gentleness that is Here He Comes; one of those moments of searing beauty that Eno can capture. It is a simple, nearly pastoral song; Eno’s vocals, Manzanera’s delicate guitar beautifully plays beneath Eno’s melancholy lyrics. Here He Comes is a song of delicatest beauty; in a way we rarely see in Eno. Manzanera, when soloing is delightful and remarkably emotive. It is hard to describe why this is such an emotional song, its ease of manipulation is just that subtle, even the little throbs of Rudolph’s bass seem like melancholic sobs of pain. It’s just wonderful and you have to listen to understand. There is nothing else to say.

Julie With… is similar to Here He Comes, a delicate, beguiling song built of atmospheric, electronic drones and ambient throbs. Beneath it all is an almost gentle, caressing bass and shimmering bells. I realise this may sound awfully cliché but there is a languorous, dream-like beauty to Julie With… as it transports you to a strange dreamland; I feel as if led hypnotised to some beatific place. The most amazing thing here is that Eno avoids melancholia. On paper this should be an immensely depressing song but rather it is a stunningly languid peace that leaves feeling oddly serene, having passed through a moment of utter beauty.

By This River enters with a gentle yet inspired piano, Eno is joined by German band Cluster and together they construct a song as beautiful as Julie With… It is easy to overlook By This River and yet it would be criminal do to so. The twin pianos of Cluster are a perfect accompaniment to Eno’s softly sung lyrics. Soon they are joined by Eno’s simplistic synthesizer that drifts over the surface in gentle waves. This is wonderfully serene music that is never boring; it is beautifully textured and played with such grace that I feel genuinely moved. I find it hard to put this into words, probably because what we hear is so simple, so gentle and so perfect; there is simply nothing wrong with this song whatsoever. It is just flawless beauty.

Through Hollow Lands is dedicated to Harold Budd, who Eno would collaborate on in The Pearl and Ambient 2: Plateau of Mirror. It sounds similar in many ways to Budd’s own delicate music. It is also similar to Energy Fools the Magician, as it is built up of sounds; Fred Frith’s unusual restrained, careful guitar; Bill McCormick’s slow, low bass; Eno’s droning moog. Perhaps this is not my favourite for though atmospheric, with a definite melancholic feel and carefully thought out it somehow never quite comes together. There is something jazz like about – probably Frith’s presence – which I can’t quite connect to. The casual listener, I think, might skip this. I think that they would be wrong to, because its delicacy is intriguing if not entirely successful.

Spider and I on the other hand is the final song and a final success for Eno. There is something dichotomous about it as it manages to be wistfully melancholic and uplifting at the same time. It is an amazingly simple song; a little bass and no more than Eno’s delicate vocal’s, occasional keyboards and droning synthesizer. It is a very pastoral and careful song to end the album and is really quite wonderful in an indescribable way. It doesn’t try too hard to move you because it doesn’t need to; it captures just the right tone, leaving you in the same serene place as Julie With… Spider and I presages his ambient, purely instrumental work and ultimately signals the end of an Eno era. One that I wish he would return to.

There are some remarkably beautiful moments in this album; some stunningly subtle and others that are just plain electrifyingly exciting. Yet there is nothing in the least bit fractured about it; the album flows perfectly, one track into another with a certain graceful ease. As for all the difference there is a sense of entirety about the album, of planning and careful construction. It seems Eno built the album up in layers. For what is essentially pop music this is stunning stuff, moving about as far away form the mainstream as possible without collapsing into abstruseness. Eno manages to fashion a remarkably listenable to album, probably because he knows how far out to take us and when to pull us back in with catchy Here Come the Warm Jets-esque pop riffs. This is subtle delicate music, often held together by Eno’s vocals, which I find unusual and always rather wonderful as Eno was hardly the world’s greatest singer and yet he knows how to sing; what the correct tone and timbre for each song should be; his vocals complement the music in all the right ways.

Intrigued? Float on over to Amazon on Eno’s serene waves and purchase for £6.99. Though anyone working in London should rush to the wonderful Fopp on Charing Cross Road as they are currently selling this and many of Eno’s other work for a mere £5.00!
 

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