Brian Eno - Here Come the Warm Jets

Island Records

February 8th, 1974.

Brian Eno's solo debut, Here Come the Warm Jets, welcomes the listener into the whimsical world of outlandish pop. A space where the laws of life hang up their hopes and satirically play around with those that can't let go. When it comes to forward-thinking rock/pop, Here Come the Warm Jets can go toe-to-toe with the best - some might even say that it is the best. 

Progression is a thing which travels on the back of the few; it's a sacrifice that the few make in order for the many to thrive. Not everyone feels the need for progress - some are content with what they have. On the other hand, there are those that see the world through the measures of possibility - what could be if we stuck our head out and asked the question? Where could we get to? Is it better than what we've already got? There's only one way to find out: put your head on the chopping block of chance. The limb is there to go out on - let pain be your guide. If the limb breaks, then it breaks - nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Finding the sweetspot where boundaries are pushed before said boundaries fall off the edge and into castaway territory is a forward-thinking musicians sixth sense. It's a sense which was sharp within Brian Eno, especially on his 70's run. Subverting expectation, or subversion of any sorts, remains a key ingredient. The radar which keeps a steady eye on the norm needs to be ducked under - avoided to the last degree. Forward movement freshens up the stale air; rejuvenates the psychological frame. The edge sharpens the senses. 

The beauty within the bonkers. The twinkle in the madman's eye. The thread through the universe connecting the future with the past. 

Satirically, joyously deadpan. Stretched out of proportion. Pulled apart and re-assembled. Wonkily walking around - full of character. The potential for pop exists within Here Come the Warm Jets. 

'Given the chance, I'll die like a baby. 

On some faraway beach. 

When the seasons over.'