A different kind of postmodern diva.
Would it be possible to keep a tally of, on one side, the albums I was looking forward to hearing again and which disappointed, and, on the other, those that noticeably surpassed expectations? The former category might include some 'old favourites' that I've been nervous about playing precisely because of the fear that their moment has passed. Better to remember them how they were. Among the latter, there would be a few that I just wasn't ready for at the time, but which hindsight now casts in a more parseable, and flattering, context. There would be distressingly large number that I just haven't listened to enough to give them a reasonable chance. Indeed that's one reason why the latter category would surely outnumber the former: I must be approaching three figures already for the albums that I'm looking forward to attending to more closely 'in my retirement'. As though our generation will be able to afford to retire, with underperforming pensions, dwindling savings and an ageing population.
Bright Red is definitely on the 'pleasant surprise' side of the equation. I'm sure I must have listened to it plenty when it came out in 1994 — it's a Laurie Anderson album produced by Brian Eno, for heavens' sake. I thought I remembered finding it a little underwhelming. For sure, there are few of the phrases or routines that worm their way inside your mind and won't come out again — as you find on Laurie's Big Science or even Mister Heartbreak — but there are some ("Remember me is all I ask / And if remembered be a task, forget me", from Tightrope which I find haunting despite, or as a consequence of, not quite understanding it). Eno has ensured there's plenty of space in the sound for the words to breathe, and there's great drumming from Joey Baron, always with a light touch (M and I saw Joey and his band at the Knitting Factory on our visit to New York in 1999, but that's another story).
The other feature that may be down to Eno is that the CD appears to be two albums — Bright Red, tracks 1-7, and Tightrope, tracks 8-14 — on one disc, though this is roundly ignored in all discographies. Recall that, around the same time as this release, he persuaded James to record Wah Wah at the same time as Laid. I picture many an awestruck artist sitting in the studio, waiting for him to conjure his fairy dust on their work, and the first thing he does is turn to them with one eyebrow cocked, "Have you considered recording two albums instead of one?" Inspired. Though not quite as inspired as Laurie's elegant response, breaking one album into two.
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