This page refers to the missing 3rd Fripp & Eno album that never materialized.

 

Fripp related these plans to many small audiences on his 1979 World Tour, some of which were captured on various illicit Frippertronics live recordings.  Apparently the recording sessions were to commence in September 1979 after the Frippertronics tour was complete.  It was after the “I Zimbra” recording session with the Talking Heads on which Fripp played guitar, as Fripp relates his experiences with them in some of his audience discussions, so that was not part of this recording session.

 

At the February 21, 1981 Frippertronics performance in Philadelphia, Fripp talks about this “Healthy Colours” recording which took place in New York City (about a year ago).  He said that Eno took the 24-track tapes from his office and has not heard from them since.  He did explain that they were working in the musical arena defined by “My Life in the Bush of Ghosts” and that if you buy that record, you will have a good idea where they left off.  It is presumed that all the versions of “Healthy Colours” that appeared on the “Essential Fripp & Eno” release, are from this recording session.

 

Fripp also mentions in his journal that one of the tracks on “The Equatorial Stars” is a reworking of something that he and Eno did a long time ago.  Most likely he was referring to the track “Altair”, which bears some resemblance to “Healthy Colours”, in that there is a rhythm track involved.  This may be an incorrect assumption, but it is clearly different from the other tracks on the album.  It could also be something leftover from the “Headcandy” recording sessions.  Incidentally, neither of these tracks involve the signature two Revox tape delay system.

 

However, there appears to be substantially more material, as evidenced by the following article by Lester Bangs which was recently unearthed.  Sadly no part of this recording has ever materialized.  The mind reels at the possibilities of Fripp, Eno and Hassell together, but sadly this “dream collaboration” never actually happened.  Perhaps someday this missing material will be released by either Fripp or Eno through one of their labels (DGM or Opal).

 

An excerpt from Brian Eno : A Sandbox in Alphaville

By Lester Bangs circa 1979/1980

 

Eno walks into the recording studio, sets a reel of tape on the floor, and moves immediately to the synthesizer. Flicks a few switches, starts turning dials, and one odd sound after another fills the room--in fact, he seems to be pulling them around through the air like great worms. The tape delay system is already set up, a thin brown line stretching for about a foot between two giant tape recorders. Watching him at the synthesizers, my companion says: "Don't let him kid you; he may not play any other instruments, but he knows exactly what he's doing."

 

What he's doing today is laying down ambient drones for an album by trumpet player Jon Hassell. A few minutes later Robert Fripp arrives to provide assistance. A few small pleasantries are exchanged between the two men, but Fripp wastes no time in unpacking his guitar, setting up, and then they begin the long slow process: Fripp will seek out a certain little succession of notes or some odd blare on his fretboard, while Eno tries various settings on the electronic bank in front of him. When they hit upon something they like, they let it flow for a while, Fripp playing the same lines over and over while Eno feels his way among the infinite possibilities of what can be done with them, and the tape delay system runs them back over and over each other building to a vast edifice. We sit on a couch down at the front of the room, right in front of the giant speakers, trying to be inconspicuous and feeling very lucky. Not many people have witnessed Fripp and Eno concerts, which is what this amounts to, Fripp standing up with one foot on a stool and the guitar on his knee while Eno bends over the board, complaining between takes about his back. What comes from the speakers over our heads layers upon itself again and again till it seems almost visible, a sonic mountain wall. Recording sessions are usually incredibly dull, but there's an atmosphere of intense, almost trancelike concentration in this room. The wordless rapport of the two men becomes palpable, then merges with the running commentary of technology in a trinity of engulfing feedback, reminding me of something Eno said during his lecture at the Kitchen festival the other day: "I'm interested in static music, but on a human level. I'm not interested in sequences, but the idea of using human beings as sequencers, because of all the little errors they put in."

 

During one break, he laughs: "Sounds like we've got a nice Fripp and Eno album here ... I don't know about Jon Hassell," and describes their methods to the engineer as "a constructive approach to the kitchen sink."  "It's interesting," says Fripp, "that you can produce everything I've ever done on that machine." 

"Yes," smiles Eno. "I just need one note."  "I'm redundant. Ta!"

 

Eno begins to tell him about another recent experiment: "I had a radio program going through, clipping out syllables people were saying and making melodies."   But Fripp is still fascinated, almost with an awe reserved for something creepy, by the synthesizer. "The most interesting thing about electronics is that I've spent so many years trying to extend (the) guitar musically, and you plug one of these things in and all you need is one note for all the same things. It's terrifying... Now I have to practice restraint," he adds as an almost nervously obligatory joke.

 

When Fripp is done, he packs up his guitar, says goodbye to all and leaves. There is little banter; it's almost as if the atmosphere of deep concentration must not be disturbed. He is barely out the door before Eno is back at the board, revving up his drones: "Well, back to the tranquil world of Brian Eno."

 

What's also interesting is how much you immediately miss Fripp. After hearing the two of them, one feels that Eno's tranquil world is only 50% of an organic whole which represents not electronic noodling, but two people intensely listening and creating off of the way their minds seem to complete on another.

 

A while later, when Eno has finished his drones, we mention this to him and he says: "Yes, Fripp always said he played his best guitar solos with me. I think it's because we don't get in each other's way;

he's the virtuoso and I'm the... intuituoso."  Earlier, as I'd walked him to the elevator, Fripp had commented:

"I just can't communicate with most musicians. It seems always that either they've got the technical chops and nothing else, or they're terrific at conceptualization and can't play."

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