Archives for posts with tag: 1970s

Music For Airports (I), 2012

Music For Airports (II), 2012

Ambient 1: Music For Airports  is an album by Brian Eno. It was released in 1978.

This was a relatively late purchase for me – I got hooked on Eno when I heard his first three albums – they’re clever, funny, pop albums (my favourite has always been the overlooked one, Taking Tiger Mountain (By Strategy) (1974), (wherein Brian takes nonsensical lyrics to an extreme – Mother Whale Eyeless being as good a place to start as any). Anyway, Another Green World (1975), one of the other vocal albums featured instrumental miniatures, which were better than the songs, and through them I got into the ambient stuff. And thinking that one day I would be a great avant-garde composer (I was messing around with tape recorders a lot at the time), I devoured the lot, but somehow missed this one. It’s alright. It’s one of those albums that’s better as an idea than a listening experience. In fact, you’re not really supposed to listen to it in a “I’ll just sit down and listen to Ambient 1: Music For Airports” kind of way at all; you’re supposed to put it on and let it just be there in the background. I can no longer imagine a time when this would be of any use or even possible – it would have to be at deafening volume to be heard in our house.

There’s a really interesting article about the album here.

This CD can be found: dining room, left-hand bookshelves, third shelf down.

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Thank you, once again,  John and Denne for title and tag ideas etc. And to Terry for sending me in the direction of the shelves in search of inspiration, and of course, as always, to Richard at CK Ponderings for being a super-cool collaborator.

Tessa was about to make her third mistake of the day. A big, steaming, multi-headed mistake, bristling in anoraks and coats, between the condensation on the peeling door and the fake-wood counter.

About two feet from the spot where they should have been greeted, the family was waiting for a signal to release them from the confines of the cool, cream corridor into the warmth of the restaurant. The man had checked his watch several times and taken care to make just enough eye contact with Tessa to elicit a response.  But Tessa could not and would not respond, no matter how much he stared at her.

It had been seven minutes since the family had crossed the threshold and collectively inhaled the sweet traceries of Louis’s Sunday roast.

Tessa’s attention traveled a precise and involved route around the intricacies of lace-work on her apron. After a third trip round, the uniform stubbornly refused to offer anything that could realistically be considered to be of interest – and she realised she would have to look up. If she could just make it through the next few minutes, Sarah, the senior waitress, would be back from table 3. She would greet them properly. Tessa lacked confidence.

The man coughed.  Eight minutes.  Tessa could almost feel his impatience growing under those thick, black fatherly eyebrows. Her face felt hot and dirty. She looked at her watch, willing the time on, watching the second hand crawl around its circuit. Sarah had told her to wait, but the man was looking at her. She was the waitress. She was there in black and white and it didn’t make sense for her to ignore them. The boy would get restless soon. Tessa’s hand searched blindly for the pad that hung at her side and stopped its gentle swinging. She could go over to them and confess that she did not know what she was doing, but she had already lost two customers that morning by doing that. She tried a smile.

Download a pdf of the whole sorry tale here

Minestrone was originally published in Fash N Riot (2001), edited by Flora McLean and Anne Hardy.