Brian Eno

A work is called a “classic” when it manages to defeat man's greatest enemy: time. A classic exists outside of time, far removed from passing trends; it doesn't age, nor does it grow younger — it simply stays there, shining with its own light. If we had to play an alien freshly landed on Earth an example of what rock and roll is, we might reach for a Rolling Stones record. But if we wanted to show them what rock music is, in the broadest sense of the term (that is, in relation to its differences from classical and jazz), then we would most likely have to play them this record.

“Before And After Science” is the formal perfection of rock music. It could easily be put on display in a modern art gallery without causing a stir. To test this, try playing this record to someone who has never even heard of it, then ask them to guess the year it came out. I doubt many would get anywhere close to nearly 28 years ago. That's because, first and foremost, Brian Eno is a phenomenal producer, perhaps the greatest producer in history. What's most striking is that his hand is so skilled it becomes practically invisible. That is his true, extraordinary talent. We all know that in the recording process the rough edges get smoothed out, a record is made to sound more open, more compressed, more polished, and we're all ready to exclaim: “You can hear the touch of...”. That doesn't happen with Eno's records, because his creations, for all their austere formal rigor, sound so natural that they don't seem “manipulated” at all — even though we know that it is precisely in his use of the recording studio that one of his greatest strokes of genius lies.

There's nothing too much or too little in his songs, but everything is perfect, expertly measured out. The ten tracks on this record are as many frames capturing fifty years of rock music, each with its own personality and its own reference subgenre. But Eno is not just a cold scientist engaged in the microscopic analysis of tradition, he's also an excellent composer, gifted with great melodic talent alongside flashes of genius. He knew how to write beautiful songs, in other words. It's in the subordination of this talent to the formal rigor of theory (theorized by that very talent) that the magic of "Before And After Science" resides. And if we add that for its making Eno surrounded himself with musicians of the caliber of Phil Collins, Phil Manzanera (Roxy Music) and the ever-present Robert Fripp, plus the two "Cluster" members Moebius and Roedelius, I'll leave you to imagine the result.

The ethno-funk syncopations of the opener "No One Receiving" anticipated by a few years that whole extraordinary post-punk movement, also better known as "white-funk", which raged through the most alternative clubs of England and the United States, bringing a breath of fresh air to modern dance music. The electronic contaminations that set "white" funk apart from "black" funk all stemmed from Eno's work, a concept he would later pick up again with more conviction, first collaborating on "Remain In Light" by Talking Heads and then duetting with David Byrne on the splendid "My Life In The Bush Of Ghosts". But it's all already here. All the irresistible drive of Collins's percussion and drums, all the cavernous pulse of the fretless bass, the impertinent buzz of the synth and that unmistakable sing-song delivery that has always been the trademark of Brian Eno the "pop tunesmith".

On this front "Kurt's Rejoinder" pushes even further, indulging in an ultra-stuttering tribalism, dragging us into unsettling nocturnal African landscapes. It's practically a preview of what Talking Heads would become shortly after.

With "Backwater" the aim shifts completely. We enter more properly rock-pop territory. An irresistible, catchy little tune, proof of the English artist's ability to churn out choruses that stick like glue and won't leave your head. This is a genre all his own, a cheerful, carefree novelty, never banal in flavor, light yet always refined.

Another surprise: "Energy Fools The Magician" is a two-minute interlude, an instrumental dominated by Phil Collins's extraordinary drumming, which ticks off the time like a clock about to explode, holding back its force right at the moment of detonation. Today we might call it post-rock?

"King's Lead Hat" is his take on "hard and pure" rock, defamiliarized by bursts of dissonant piano, jittery hand claps, hypnotic electronic loops, and incendiary guitars. Another irresistible song, another chorus to be sung at the top of your lungs, another piece of craft from rock's intellectual artisan.

If you then want to hear the perfect pop song, try listening to "Here He Comes". A track of staggering transparency, of enormous class, that could play on a continuous loop for an hour without ever growing tiresome. It's refinement taken to the highest levels, within a genre, pop, too often snobbishly dismissed as "low". Eno's lesson here warns us against prejudice, proving that it's not the genre but the artist that determines the worth of a song.

Speaking of genres, how would we classify "Julie With..."? Ambient-pop? That might be the most accurate label for a track that belongs to those hazy, soft, utterly delightful miniatures Eno is capable of. Another thing only he can do. An unmistakable trademark of his. These are the famous "vignettes", so ethereal they're almost less intrusive than silence. Also belonging to this category is the beautiful instrumental "Through Hollow Lands", dedicated to Harold Budd, a sinister, almost narcotizing episode, with its blanket of electronic smoke and its keyboard chimes resembling a metaphysical clock. If a question mark could make a sound, it might sound like this.

Now we come to the record's most famous track, that "By This River" so strongly wanted by Nanni Moretti for his film "La stanza del figlio" ("The Son's Room"). The usual rarefied atmosphere, with Eno singing in a subdued, resigned tone, while piano and keyboards caress each other, embroidering a most precious fabric. "By This River" is the peace of the senses, a yawn of the soul, quiet contemplation, calm. And also a masterpiece.

Closing the record, whose second half is much more relaxed than the first, is "Spider And I", a moved farewell dissolved into cosmic nebulae, almost announcing the birth of a new era. Yes, the era "after science". We know what came before, and we know what came after too, but what will come next? We don't know, but it will certainly owe something to this record as well.

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29/10/2006