[By Subject] [By Date] [By Sender] [Prev] [Next]
Date: Wed, 23 Aug 1995 18:54:47 -0400
My wife went to London on business back in July and, outstanding spouse that
she is, interrupted her busy schedule to acquire a copy of Illuminate.
Having played it a lot for the last few weeks, I notice that it sounds much
better, almost a different record, on the boom box in my office. And yes, I
think it's a terrific record, no matter where I play it.
A couple of Sundays ago, awakening glum and blue, I sat down under the
headphones with Illuminate and a cup of coffee. It's been a difficult
summer, what with one rejection after another from editors who are very
cordial and say every nice thing except, yes, we'll publish the damn thing.
So there I sat contemplating a Viking funeral for the lot on the East River,
when what should enter but those cool, high, thin guitars on the opening bit
of *When Eno Sings.* Approximately thirty seconds later, the day seemed a
lot less without merit. Before he even starts singing, it's the feel of the
thing that sounds as very much alive as it ever did.
Perhaps most of all, it's an interesting record. It holds up, nay, unfolds
under repeated listening. Thanking my lucky stars, I'm Illuminated.