ROGER ENO

Eno junior’s first release, produced by Youth and released on new label.

It must be frustrating having Brian Eno as an older brother. With all his concepts and theoretical bon mots – not to mention his production work – he does cast rather a long shadow. Yet Dust Of Stars suggests that Roger is the one making the more engaging music these days, certainly when compared to Brian’s growing catalogue of generative music albums, which, although possessed of an aloof beauty, are essentially one dimensional and only marginally interesting.

A THREAD OF REFLECTIVE

ROMANTICISM RUNS THROUGH THE MUSIC… IT HAUNTS THE IMAGINATION.

A thread of reflective romanticism also runs through the music of both Enos, and surfaces here in this collection of piano pieces set within Youth’s subtle soundscapes. Based on a gently undulating two-note figure, Moonlight Drive is reminiscent of Philip Glass’ Metamorphosis solo piano series, but leads us into a less introspective, more opened out sound world, with nocturnal twangs and slide guitar that, oddly enough, obliquely nod to The Doors’ track of the same name. As the piece progresses, the top piano line subtly morphs into a melody that feels like its going to turn into a slow version of The Shadows’ Apache.

Salty Tears begins with some bittersweet, spartan piano chords that find Eno operating in a similar area to Hans-Joachim Röedelius and Harold Budd. Eno’s piano is gradually augmented over its eight-minute course by flowing trumpet lines and the most spartan guitar, bass, drum brushwork and sizzling ride cymbal, like a kind of deconstructed jazz ensemble.

Youth’s production typically involves a kind of ambient wash and gently moving electronic currents, with a generous dose of reverb that gives a sonic halo to the piano and allows individual notes to hang in space. It adds to the sense of unease on the strange, descending figures of Velvet Minute. But this device is already a bit of a cliche in ambient piano music, and on Gliding Albatross and Live Forever it’s rather overdone.

Eno’s music here haunts the imagination, but then compare it to this writer’s favourite album of his, 1996’s Swimming. There the romanticism has a bleak and melancholy feel that evokes the vast expanses of the Suffolk coast near where the Enos hail from – you can almost smell the seaweed and taste of salt in the air. Dust Of Stars is a sensual collection, but by comparison it does feel rather pristine, more like a weightless spell in a flotation tank. Forgotten Song is the nearest we get to a sense of place with Eno’s piano accompanied by background sounds that evoke strange birds calling across empty marshlands.