js Robert Fripp and Brian Eno’s “No Pussyfooting” will probably be regarded as a ground breaking recording in the long run of music history, but it was barely noticed when it came out in the mid-70s. In fact, I would imagine that many who bought this back then were pretty disappointed in what they had just purchased. Both artists at the time were enjoying successful art rock careers and I am sure many were looking for a cross between Fripp’s King Crimson and Eno’s Roxy Music, only to find that their collaborative effort sounded nothing like either of those bands. This album is not the first ambient album, but it is one of the first to be marketed toward a rock/pop audience, and as such it broke all sorts of new ground that both artists would go on to enjoy as ambient music continued to be a big part of their careers, as well as the careers of the thousands of artists that they inspired. Ever since the mid-90s electronica boom, ambient music has become a very popular genre, and you can trace the roots of that popularity right back to Fripp and Eno.

Side one opens with an F# drone that Fripp solos over in a raga like style in the Dorian minor mode. His solos are given infinite sustain via Eno’s tape loop methods. Once again, Eno was not the first person to use tape loops like this, but possibly the first to use them in this sort of Hendrix meets Shankar psychedelic sound that would eventually attract the more experimental side of the rock world. Side two uses a busier backdrop via Eno’s VCS3 synthesizer as Fripp solos in E Ionian, Mixolydian and Lydian modes before finally fading out. Fortunately Robert is a very talented soloist who has no problem constructing an interesting narrative over a drone like background, otherwise, this album could have been a real snooze-fest.

Given the long history of ambient music at this point, this album does not sound particularly unusual anymore, but back in the day many of us were watching the record spin around for the first time and wondering when was the drum beat going to kick in, ha. It never kicks in. Welcome to your brave new ambient future.

EntertheLemming - Whiney Women and Sacred Songs -

During my formative years at secondary school we coined an expression to denote all that we as 16 year olds considered really 'out there' in terms of incomprehensible and ripe for the 'too hard' basket.

'That's a bit Frippin Eno mate' we used to exclaim.

I think Robert Fripp was domiciled in New York at this time during a lengthy Crimson hiatus, and would have certainly had cause to meet and collaborate with many illustrious musicians from both the 'old' and 'new' waves. There are numerous instances of session work he undertook with, amongst others, the Roches, Blondie, the Stranglers, Darryl Hall, Peter Gabriel and David Bowie.

We must take care to remember that the musical landscape in 1979 was unrecognisable from what it is now and the influence of 'punk' in America was very different to that in the UK.

In the latter, it was principally a social and political phenomenon while in the former it was principally an artistic and aesthetic phenomenon.

'You Burn Me Up I'm a Cigarette' - I heard this on the radio before I bought the album and thought it was just another punk song from 1979. Give the lads some kudos here, this IS a real shock and the lyrics are Fripp's.

'Musical elation is my only consolation'

'Breathless' - Jazz rock garnished with a pungent Frippian seasoning which lends this otherwise rather perfunctory chop fest in weird time signatures its Crimsonesque flavour

'Disengage' - features the golden tonsils of one Peter Hamill who hollers with his usual gusto over a bludgeoning metallic dirge of no appreciable merit

'North Star' - This is more like it...Deceptively simple song beautifully sung by (Darryl Hall?) and featuring a variant of the 'chiming bell' guitar sound on the strummed chords - (see 'Lament' by King Crimson)

'Chicago' - Peter Hamill once more steps unto the breach to save the day, by transforming this relatively mundane blues plodder into something infinitely more surreal and sinister. Chilling. It ain't what you do etc

'Mary' - Decent enough tune but rather undermined by the very laboured 'faux naive' performance of (Terre Roche?) Whoever it is, I particularly loathe US female 'artists' who are this 'method school' precious about everything that comes out their mouths (Spleen anyone?)

'Exposure' - Fripp completely forgets his 'playful bunny' act for the first time here and seems to think it clever to spell out the name of the song beneath the irritating screeching of some deranged wench in the foreground who presumably must be 'exorcising her inner demons' (Buy them a bike love and give us peace)

'NY3' - This COULD have been very good indeed, as the idea of splicing some real life dialogue of a family arguing with their pregnant daughter onto the hypnotic and angular guitar provided by Robert SHOULD have resulted in an unsettling and unnerving poignancy. However, we are left with something that comes across as manipulative, exploitative and voyeuristic. I am sure this was not Fripp's intent but the track represents something of a missed opportunity. Shame.

I May Not have Had Enough of Me etc - Once more, Hamill shines but the chick he duets with sucks. (No, I am not misogynistic...its just that none of the females featured here contribute anything worthwhile to this record in my humble opinion)

'Here Comes the Flood' - Probably the highlight of the album for me. Peter Gabriel summons forth a very plaintive and achingly vulnerable performance of one of his most beautiful songs. The Frippertronics loop that Robert conjures up on this is particularly apt and gives the piece a haunting backdrop upon which Gabriel's lament is perfectly framed.

Fretmeister Fripp's debut solo outing tries just a little bit too hard to sneak itself into the 'too hard' basket for its own good. There is much to admire here but less to enjoy. The personnel employed are all very highly regarded in their own fields (even the 'precious' chicks) and the playing is faultless throughout.

But as we all know, great technique and reputations do not a great record make....

The bespectacled one fancies that his unremitting intellectualism will still hold firm even in the pursuit of 'fun' and 'play' which he asks us to consider as the ultimate aim of the more commercial approach adopted here on 'Exposure'.

He protests too much.

Much of the unevenness of this record must have been caused by Fripp's failure to record his planned trilogy with Darryl Hall (an odd choice of collaborator to be sure) so it was probably inevitable that the truncated version we now have takes on the qualities of a rather disjointed compilation album.

Although my mind is not necessarily closed to the mystical teachings of Bennett and Gurdjieff, I find Fripp's patronage of a now redundant apocalyptic world view both smug and increasingly tiresome. He cannot resist splicing various snippets of supposedly profound dialogue from supposedly wise men throughout the album, and the effect is that of a headmaster joining with the kids in laughing at the monkeys in the zoo (but all the while reciting the species Latin name and population statistics)

With the 20-20 hindsight of having listened to most (but not all) of Robert's subsequent solo excursions, I have to say that in spite of Exposure's many faults, it does represent his most stimulating and satisfying work in this field to date.

Frankly I find the 'soundscapes' less appealing than listening to someone vacuum their lounge and the work recorded with David Sylvian is pretentious in the extreme.

One day, real soon, Bob will unleash on us the solo album we know that he is more than capable of delivering.

Just don't bet on it involving carbon based lifeforms.

Warthur Fripp and Eno are at their best when they turn their attentions to astronomy. Just as Evening Star was the superior of their two albums from the 1970s, so too is The Equatorial Stars a great little bit of ambient bliss three decades after their last major release. Steering a careful course between taking advantage of updated technology on the one hand and staying true to the project's parameters on the other, the duo once again create a varied and fascinating album which may no longer blaze a trail into uncharted regions of ambient as their first two albums did, but is no less compelling despite that.

Warthur A more diverse and mature album than No Pussyfooting, at least partially because both Fripp and Eno had had a chance to have a think about what this whole "ambient" thing they've cooked up is and what they might do with it, Evening Star consists of a side of shorter tracks based on a variety of approaches (and featuring some absolutely gorgeous guitar solos from Fripp) and a side-long epic in the form of An Index of Metals, which is a Frippertronic piece which essentially restates the premises of No Pussyfooting but does so in a more engaging and interesting fashion. In this particular case, experience really does show - No Pussyfooting might have shown promise, but it was Evening Star that fulfilled it.

Warthur As innovative and important as it is to the development of the ambient genre, and even though it's a good album, at the end of the day No Pussyfooting doesn't quite manage to transcend its origins as two guys messing about with musical instruments and electronics at home and putting the results on vinyl. Eno's tape system and Robert Fripp's guitar playing combine to create a forerunner of Frippertronics, but there's no getting around the fact that this aimless noodling is, well, nothing more than aimless noodling. Superior drone-ambient outings had already emerged from the Krautrock scene in the form of Tangerine Dream's Zeit and Klaus Schulze's Irrlicht and Cyborg, and whilst the album would prove to be an important turning point in the career of both participants, all that proves is that unexpected consequences can come out of the most humble places. Three stars.