The Big Here and Long NowBy Brian EnoIt was 1978. I was new to New York. A rich acquaintance had invited me to a housewarming party, and, as my cabdriver wound his way down increasingly potholed and dingy streets, I began wondering whether he’d got the address right. Finally he stopped at the doorway of a gloomy, unwelcoming industrial building. Two winos were crumpled on the steps, oblivious. There was no other sign of life in the whole street. "I think you may have made a mistake", I ventured. But he hadn’t. My friend’s voice called "Top Floor!" when I rang the bell, and I thought – knowing her sense of humour – "Oh – this is going to be some kind of joke!" I was all ready to laugh. The elevator creaked and clanked slowly upwards, and I stepped out - into a multi-million dollar palace. The contrast with the rest of the building and the street outside couldn’t have been starker.I just didn’t understand. Why would anyone spend so much money building a place like that in a neighbourhood like this? Later I got into conversation with the hostess. "Do you like it here?" I asked. "It’s the best place I’ve ever lived", she replied. "But I mean, you know, is it an interesting neighbourhood?" "Oh – the neighbourhood? Well…that’s outside!" she laughed. The incident stuck in my mind. How could you live so blind to your surroundings? How could you not think of ‘where I live’ as including at least some of the space outside your four walls, some of the bits you couldn’t lock up behind you? I felt this was something particular to New York: I called it "The Small Here". I realised that, like most Europeans, I was used to living in a bigger Here......[CLICK HERE TO READ THE FULL ESSAY]...
contrabandwidth says
Huge fan of Eno and his theories on music, sound, recording, etc. We actually used Music For Airports as my sons night time music, for the soul reason of ambiance and that it had no huge shifts that might be distracting. It worked great - except for the 4th track, for which he always woke up crying. It was so strange. When I listen to it, I realize that the 4th track is some what discordant with the rest of the album. I always meant to write about this, even wondered what Mr. Eno would think about this, since his theories of music and sound ambiance seem to be that the music should be so inconsequential that you can come in on it at any place and get the same effect as the beginning of the song. Fascinating stuff!
BorisCollage says
Very!!! So so nice to hear a parent use the brilliance of Eno for their children. Imagination is the key to a better future, and it takes nurturing to believe in the power of imaginations. Thanks for the feedback here and on my blog. I'll keep on this frequency as long as I live. No kids yet, but when they come, you better believe I will do the same.
Best
contrabandwidth says
Well, it certainly is interesting re-discovering music through your children. He didn't have a choice in the matter with Eno, but it's interesting what he picks up on. He loves the song "Barbara Anne" by the Beach Boys, so I was forced to re-listen too it, and realize what a great song it is with such simple lyrics and great harmonies! There's almost no instrumentation in it either! Never thought I'd be listening to that one, but I think he picked out a good one there. On the other end of things, Kraft werks "Pocket Calculator" popped up on iTunes the other day and he loved it.
BorisCollage says
You inspired me to do a write up on Erik Satie. Eno's theories are point blank derived from Mr. Satie - regarding the seamlessness of continuous music. AKA "Furniture Music."
contrabandwidth says
Yes, he was a great composer, very ahead of his time. That may have been another choice for music before "Music For Airports." I'll keep an eye out for your post.
The Big Here and Long NowBy Brian EnoIt was 1978. I was new to New York. A rich acquaintance had invited me to a housewarming party, and, as my cabdriver wound his way down increasingly potholed and dingy streets, I began wondering whether he’d got the address right. Finally he stopped at the doorway of a gloomy, unwelcoming industrial building. Two winos were crumpled on the steps, oblivious. There was no other sign of life in the whole street. "I think you may have made a mistake", I ventured. But he hadn’t. My friend’s voice called "Top Floor!" when I rang the bell, and I thought – knowing her sense of humour – "Oh – this is going to be some kind of joke!" I was all ready to laugh. The elevator creaked and clanked slowly upwards, and I stepped out - into a multi-million dollar palace. The contrast with the rest of the building and the street outside couldn’t have been starker.I just didn’t understand. Why would anyone spend so much money building a place like that in a neighbourhood like this? Later I got into conversation with the hostess. "Do you like it here?" I asked. "It’s the best place I’ve ever lived", she replied. "But I mean, you know, is it an interesting neighbourhood?" "Oh – the neighbourhood? Well…that’s outside!" she laughed. The incident stuck in my mind. How could you live so blind to your surroundings? How could you not think of ‘where I live’ as including at least some of the space outside your four walls, some of the bits you couldn’t lock up behind you? I felt this was something particular to New York: I called it "The Small Here". I realised that, like most Europeans, I was used to living in a bigger Here......[CLICK HERE TO READ THE FULL ESSAY]...
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