So, another year, another review.
Although the modern calendar dictates that my surroundings are a year older than they were last week everything looks pretty much the same. It's still snowing and I am still spending far too much time record shopping.
'And what did the festive season bring?' I hear you ask. Despite the record snowfall and drifts I did manage to squeeze in a brief flying visit to Record Collector in Sheffield courtesy of one particular brave taxi driver. Was the journey worth the cab fair? Hells yes. There is always something in that shop worth having a punt on. It's just a massive shame there are no listening facilities - That said, guy with the 90's indie hair that works there is more than happy to play stuff for you. I just didn't want to take the piss.
One particularly interesting find was the Sam Gopal album (Lemmy's pre-Hawkwind band) Couple of great moments on that, not least because they use some Indian percussive instrument (Tambula/Tambla/Tabula?) rather than drums. Sadly it went straight into the out pile and was chopped within 24 hours because although I didn't notice at the time it was a reissue.
The rest of my seasonal shopping was done alomst exclusively at numerous outlets of my former employee Music and Video Exchange and on the off chance anybody from that end ever reads this, thanks for being so accomodating. Couple of great finds there.
Anyway, onto the purpose of this post, a review of Fripp and Eno's 'No Pussyfooting'. Picked this up at Record Collector for twelve quid. I played it straight after the new Fuck Buttons album (which rules incidentally) and that gave it a fresh perspective and made it sound a lot more recent that it is, which is good because judging by the sleeve shot and hair cuts that's what they were going for. I wonder if Eno ever got picked on for his hair? People probaly tried only to be confronted with a barage of awesome sound effects courtesy of some previously hidden Mini Moog.
'Fuck you pub bully! I may have questionable hair but I shall destroy you will a barrage of strange and otherworldly noises!'
We are talking about the guy who supposedly left Roxy Music because he was bored here. There is no telling what is up his sleeve other than a pack of nudie playing cards. *See above.
Anyway, two tracks, one on each side, 'The Heavenly Music Corporation' and 'Swastika Girls', each around twenty minutes long and exactly what you might expect from the team circa 1973. I would love to explain how the record was made but having just attempted to read a detailed recollection of it's inception did not get past the opening sentence that ended with the words 'two tape recorders'. Still, we are dealing with alchemists here, if it had been as easy as plugging in and playing the wizardry would be gone. Anyway, this was hated by everybody when it came out, label (Island) included.
As history often dictates it has found a belated place in the hearts of many thanks to the revisionists and nowadays it is often mentioned in the same breath as 'Here Come the Warm Jets' the career defining album which Eno released around the same time.
So yeah, I like it and I'm glad I bought it. Not least because of the sleeve which as well as being testament to a time gone by reminds me of that bit at the end of Enter the Dragon where Bruce Lee is having the face off with Mr Han and his Ninja Claw weapon. it's almost as if he could burst through the wall at any minute and be all like 'Whoaaaaaa!'. Pretty sure if he did Eno wouldn't bat an eyelid. Bruce Lee Vs Eno armed with a Mini Moog - NO CONTEST. it's almost as if he is sat patiently waiting for the arrival of the martial arts legend.
'Come on Bruce, hurry up and appear through the revolving glass wall, I have to get to the airport to record an album.... Robert, do you fancy a game of cards while we wait?'
'Yes, because the cards have boobs on them. One day I will marry Toyah.'