HERE COME THE WARM JETS

Brian Eno's first solo outing, 1973's self-produced HERE COME THE WARM JETS is an excellent album, for those who can appreciate inspired lunacy -- but it's nothing like his later ambient works, or the generally more serious and disciplined ANOTHER GREEN WORLD and BEFORE AND AFTER SCIENCE.

This recording is great fun, but it's certainly not for everyone. Along with the clever studio craft that would later make him perhaps the most sought-after producer in modern music, Eno shows a wicked sense of humour. If you have a hard time with "novelty" songs, and humour in music in general, be warned: silly songs like "The Paw Paw Negro Blowtorch" (try getting away with that title today!), "Driving Me Backwards," "Blank Frank" and "Dead Finks Don't Talk" may well drive you away from your speakers and toward the STOP button... but I welcome witty wackiness in music, especially when it's as well executed as this!

Yes, variety is good, and in addition to the prevailing madness, there is also sentiment, beauty, and just plain catchy, multi-layered pop pleasure to be found in plentitude on more restrained tracks like "Cindy Tells Me," the lush "On Some Faraway Beach," and the infectious instrumental title track.

The list of guest musicians is impressive: on board for maestro Eno's wild ride are Robert Fripp, John Wetton, Chris Spedding, Nick Judd, and Roxy Music members Phil Manzanera, Andy Mackay, and Paul Thompson. (If you haven't heard Fripp's absolutely blistering solo on the essential, acerbic "Baby's on Fire," then you're missing out on one of the best things he's ever laid down outside the Crimson fold!)

Why do so many diverse artists, from Bowie to Ultravox to James to Paul Simon to U2 hire Brian Eno to work his magic on their albums? The answer can begin to be discerned here. Tasty stuff -- if you like it - and a very strong debut from one of the most important and influential figures in modern music.