I was turned onto Eno in a dubious way, via the dangerous-sounding Baby’s on Fire. When I listen to that song now all the yuck has vanished from its initial association, and I hear both the future and the past. It’s from ’73, but doesn’t sound dated, and I still believe it is one of the most shattering guitar solos around.
The craftsmanship, the attention to detail in Here Come the Warm Jets is what makes me love this album so. In preparing to write this ode I played the album every time I was in the car each day for a week, purposely did not sing along, and listened hard, as if I was hearing it for the first time. I must have played it 30 times this week, and would play it 30 again. I noticed all the little bits in the songs that make them interesting, and I would explain minutely what I love about each song, but since I’m not a music writer I don’t have the words for what he’s got going on. I will try: The vocal tone and lyrics of Driving Me Backwards, combined with whatever the hell he’s doing to the guitar. The boop-boop thing he brings in at the end of Baby’s on Fire. The monk-like vocals of Dead Finks. The pinging, poppy guitar of Some of Them are Old. The “warm jet” guitar sound that opens Here Come the Warm Jets. The orchestration of each song is so complete and luscious, it slays me and leaves me in the dirt.
The album is like a soundtrack for a short film, and should be listened to all at once. One song floats into the next, as if they’re all connected. A friend called this album “perfectly chaotic,” like jazz. Although it sometimes feels like a track is going off in 40 different directions, at some point, each time, he pulls the song tightly together so it all swells up like a whirlpool of perfection. Another friend tells me Eno did this on purpose; it was his challenge. I think it’s magic and yes, perfectly chaotic.
My favorite part of the album is the ending trifecta of Dead Finks; Some of Them are Old; and Here Come the Warm Jets. Dead Finks is like a relief from the intensity of the previous tracks, an easing toward the end, but not just yet. Some of Them are Old has an exhausted beauty and simple throwing about of the guitar strumming – a pleasant “day after” feeling. And finally, Warm Jets, the song which no other song can follow. This is where the drum comes quietly in through the background, a little behind, and as it gets louder it catches up a bit until it’s in full bloom and the whole thing soars together. It’s all in tune and drive-y, and the lyrics and the voices and there’s angels and light and bang! It fades out, and when it ends you may as well just turn off your stereo, because it’s the perfect last song.
Eno may say he threw this album together, but then I guess that makes him even more of a genius.
MmePrice 