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.

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.

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
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

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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!