[1] Speechless (Anderson) - 5:20
[2] Bright Red (Anderson/Isaiah) - 3:12
[3] The Puppet Motel (Anderson/Eno) - 3:09
[4] Speak My Language (Anderson) - 3:38
[5] World Without End (Anderson) - 2:47
[6] Free Fall (Anderson) - 4:32
[7] Muddy River (Anderson/Eno) - 3:02
[8] Beautiful Pea Green Boat (Anderson/Lear) - 4:20
[9] Love Among the Sailors (Anderson) - 2:49
[10] Poison (Anderson/Eno) - 3:47
[11] In Our Sleep (Anderson/Reed) - 2:31
[12] Night in Baghdad (Anderson) - 3:23
[13] Tightrope (Anderson/Eno) - 5:58
[14] Same Time Tomorrow (Anderson) - 3:51
1994 CD Warner Brothers 45534
1995 CD WEA 9362 45534
1994 CS Warner Brothers 45534
Mid-price German reissue of 1994 studio album featuring appearances
from Brian Eno, Adrian Belew and Lou Reed. 14 tracks: 'Speechless',
'Bright Red', 'The Puppet Motel', 'Speak My Language', 'World Without
End', 'Freefall''Muddy River', 'Beautiful Pea Green Boat', 'Love Among
The Sailors', 'Poison', 'In Our Sleep', 'Night In Baghdad', 'Tightrope'
and 'Same Time Tomorrow'.
Almost six years after Strange Angels, Anderson's follow-up was the
dark and foreboding Bright Red. A slight disappointment, Brian Eno's
production heightens the almost amorphous quality of the material,
which succeeds in fits and starts. Still, there are moments like
"Speechless" and "Poison" that are as gripping as anything she's ever
recorded. As with any artist this interesting, Anderson's prodigious
talents are on display; you'll simply have to dig a little deeper for
them to be revealed.
How do you make a pop song work without the safety net of melody?
Rappers do it with hyperactive dance beats and lots of attitude, but
Laurie Anderson does it by relaxing our defenses with her soothing
telephone-operator voice, her hypnotic synth patterns, and droning
organ washes. Once she has lured us into her aural lair, she trips us
up with broken syntax and disconnected sentence fragments. Bright Red's
producer is Brian Eno, an astute choice, for no one does ambient
backdrops better. By themselves, these atmospheric harmonies are mere
background music, Anderson's spoken monologues nothing more than
bohemian stand-up comedy. When the two elements click, however, the
result is some of the most original pop music around. As always, what
saves Anderson from smug self-indulgence is her wicked sense of humor
and her genuine sense of dread.
Geoffrey Himes, Amazon.com
Es gilt das gesprochene Wort: Auch auf ihrem sechsten Album Bright Red
pflegt Laurie Anderson minimalisierten Sprechgesang. "Wenn uns jemand
fragt, wer wir sind, erzählen wir Geschichten über uns",
meint die 47jährige, die schon seit 1972 in der New Yorker
Künstlerszene ein Wörtchen mitredet. Nach fünf Jahren
Pause seit Strange Angels erstellt sie ein neues Psychogramm des
Menschen, bei dem ihr als Gäste auch Lou Reed und Brian Eno
halfen. Elektronik, Perkussion, Sounds, Stimmen und Ruhe lassen tief
blicken.
Endlich ist sie wieder da, mit ihrem Esprit, dem Weitblick, dem
Gespür fürs Atmosphärische. Mit "Big Sciense" (1982) und
"Mister Heartbreak" (1984) schenkte Laurie Anderson dem Pop einst eine
neue Dimension: Diese Musik war nicht nur aus Tönen komponiert,
sie spielte mit Silben und Bildern, mit Befindlichkeiten zwischen
Ironie und Passion, mit unüblichen Melodien und Harmonien - und
war doch so verflixt eingängig, daß Laurie damit ein
breiteres Publikum um den Geigenbogen wickelte. "Unheimliche
Begegnungen der Dritten Art" widerfuhren dem stereoplay-Kritiker beim
Abhören des "wohltuend gänsehautfördernden "Big
Science". Der Eurythmiker Dave Stewart, bekanntlich ein Kenner
weiblicher Pop-Extravaganz, besuchte Laurie Anderson jüngst in
ihrem New Yorker Loft über dem Hudson River, um mit ihr das
bezaubernde Duett "Kinky Sweetheart" für sein neues Album
"Greetings From The Gutter" einzustudieren. Die ersten
Sound-Entwürfe zu "Bright Red", die er von seiner Gastgeberin am
Rande zu hören bekam, versetzten ihn in helle Begeisterung. In der
Tat: Diese Anderson-Aufnahmen lassen auch auf der bloßen Tonspur
wieder das multimediale Talent der Künstlerin erahnen. Die
geheimnisvoll hingehauchte Stimme, die Luft in den Arrangements, die
sparsamen Rhythmusakzente: All dies ist Kraftfutter für die
Phantasie. Mit delikatem Understatment breitet Laurie Anderson, heute
47, vor dem Zuhörer intime Erinnerungen an ihre Kindheit aus -
ohne Sentimentalität, aber sehr subtil, sehr rund, sehr reif. Ein
Club exklisiver Manhattan-Musiker versammelte sind im Studio - Lou Reed
etwa oder Arto Linday, auch Session-Leute mit dezidiert eigener
Handschrift wie Fixx-Gitarrist Jamie West-Oram, der Saiten-Freistilist
Marc Ribot oder der Akkordeonist Guy Klucevsek. Sie alle trugen dazu
bei, daß "Bright Red" in jeder Song-Episode anders, neu, frisch
klingt. So innovativ und schön zugleich kann Pop sein.
Following three song-based records, Laurie Anderson returns with a
sparse collection of tracks produced by master minimalist Brian Eno.
There are some songs to sing along with here, but for the most part
Bright Red focuses on one of Anderson's strongest suits, language. The
bulk of these pieces seems rooted in Asian poetry, where the sound of
the words is as vital as their meaning and the silences between them.
While Eno's ambient oozings and the flickering beats supplied by
drummer Joey Baron (Bill Frisell) and percussionist Cyro Baptista could
have sustained the record alone, room was mapped out for exquisite and
reserved contributions by Lou Reed, Arto Lindsay and Adrian Belew.
"Beautiful Pea Green Boat," "In Our Sleep" (with Reed) and the
beautiful "Tightrope" are the best suited for radio play, while the
rest of the album would be served best by an un-interrupted listen in a
quiet, dark space.
Steve Ciabattoni - Nov 14, 1994
College Media, Inc. - CMJ New Music Report Issue: 403
Hard to warm to this...
Up to this release, there was always something to Laurie Anderson's
releases that seemed to emphasize a connection to the listener and/or
their experiences. But "Bright Red" seems to be much more about
dis/misconnection...and somehow, this thematic imperative has gotten
into the works here to the point that I, myself, have some real trouble
listening to this one. Maybe there's something that's rubbing me the
wrong way here, or maybe Laurie's doing her job a bit _too_ well in
communicating the underlying themes. At any rate, this also marks
something of a return to a more stripped-down style, more akin to her
early work, yet retaining some of the pop complexity of later albums in
the playing. I just couldn't connect with this, though...and it doesn't
seem to want to connect with me.
DAC Crowell from Champaign, IL, USA, April 10, 2000
Anderson Walks A Tightrope on Bright Red
Ten years after recording her most optimistic album, "Mr. Heartbreak",
Laurie Anderson released the brooding, haunted "Bright Red". The name
itself seems bitingly ironic; there isn't a "bright" song in the bunch.
Rather, these tracks are suffused with a pervading darkness, courtesy
of Brian Eno's atmospheric textures. Anderson's voice, usually an
inviting, conversational one capable of inducing subtle sparks of
emotion, now seems strange, confrontational and ghostly. Her love
interest at the time, Lou Reed, participates in a grave duet with the
artist on "In Our Sleep", and Adrian Belew turns in appropriately
subtle guitar work, but the entire CD is permeated with a creeping
sense of inevitability. As if to underscore this undercurrent of dread,
Anderson's lyrics speak of lost control, isolation and lost threads of
sanity. For those unaquainted with her work, neophites may find such a
description unappealing; even so, this is an uncompromising, mature
work that ranks as one of Anderson's best. Personal Favorites: the
gauzy feeling of dislocation evident in "Speechless" and the creeping
insanity of a scorned lover in "Poison". Representative Lyrics: "Daddy
daddy, it was just like you said/ Now that the living outnumber the
dead." ("Speak My Language"); "A small bullet, a piece of glass/ And
your heart just grows around it." ("Poison"); "If this is the work of
an angry god/ I want to look into his angry face./ There is no pure
land now./ No safe place." ("Love Among the Sailors")
southwestreview from El Paso, TX, March 23, 2000
Darkest Anderson's album since "Big Science"
I like "Bright Red". It is a dark feeling album, reminds me of her "Big
Science" album, however it is less minimalistic. I like the
arrangements on this album, Bryan Eno did a great jod producing it.
"Freefall" and "Pea Green Boat" are my favourite songs. Get it if you
in a mood for listening and thinking.
A music fan from Philadelphia, US, February 27, 1999
IS THIS BRIGHT RED A DIM BULB?
Seeing Laurie Anderson perform Bright Red live at SMU's McFarlane
Auditorium, I was gladdened by her return to the spare abstractions of
her earlier work. But what was effective on-stage seems to have fallen
short as a recording. In fact, I'm not quite sure of what to make of
this latest entry. Unlike "Strange Angels," a melodious foray into more
traditional songwriting style, "Bright Red" is a monotonic and often
one-dimensional ride through the kindled causeways of Ms. Anderson's
mind. Regardless of the fact that Eno's production here is, as always,
one of the best in modern recording, much of the content of "Bright
Red" is pervaded with an annoying sameness in tonality and coloration.
Think for a minute about her signature recording, "Mr. Heartbreak."
While it's a comparison to "Bright Red," each track on "Mr. Heartbreak"
rises in the mind like a new shade of the reality (or unreality) of the
music.
All this is not to say Laurie Anderson's "Bright Red" is a failure.
"Bright Red" is still evidence that Laurie Anderson is by far one of
the most creative recording artists in modern music. But, hey, Laurie,
try writing in a few other different keys, next time, O.K.?
A music fan from Dallas, TX, August 23, 1998
typisch laurie
das album bright red gehört fraglos zu den typischen
kunststücken laurie andersons. sie mag sogar als besonders
gelungenes exemplar gelten. wer sie sich ein paar mal anhört wird
die seele dieser musik zu fassen kriegen und nicht mehr loslassen
wollen. ist jedoch nicht geeignet zum nebenherlaufen und sich berieseln
lassen, was jedoch ja auch typisch laurie anderson ist...
jbgummibaer@gmx.net aus stade , 5. Februar 2001
Gewöhnungsbedürftig - aber dann phantastisch!
Nicht als Hintergrundmusik geeignet - aber zum Zuhören erste
Sahne! Als ich die CD zum ersten Mal sah erinnerte ich mich an eine
Performance von Laurie die ich im Fernsehen sah - da musste ich sie
unbedingt kaufen. Beim ersten Reinhören war ich enttäuscht.
Das soll Musik sein? Meine Frau entdeckte nach 2 Jahren die CD in
meinem Regal - und war begeistert! Nach mehrmaligem Anhören
gehört sie nun auch zu meinen Lieblings-CDs. Minimal-Musik, zum
Teil nur mit Lauries beeindruckend sinnlicher Stimme und Drums - auf
das Wesentliche reduziert! Das ist richtige Kunst, viel mehr als "nur"
Musik. Beeindruckend ist vor allem der swingende Rhytmus und der satte
Sound der Surdo.
dkoschny@estec.esa.nl aus Noordwijkerhout, Holland , 12. November 2000
(The Eagle and the Weasel)
It was August. Summer of '82.
You had that rusty old car
And me I had nothing better to do.
You picked me up. We hit the road. Baby me and you.
We shot out of town drivin' fast and hard.
Leaving our greasy skid marks in people's back yards.
We were goin' nowhere. Just driving around.
We were goin' in circles. And me I was just hanging on.
Like in that Annie Dillard book
Where she sees that eagle with the skull of a weasel
Hanging from its neck
And here's how it happened, listen.
Eagle bites the weasel. Weasel bites back.
They fly up to nowhere. Weasel keeps hangin' on.
Together forever.
We were goin' nowhere. Just driving around.
You did all the talking and me I didn't make a sound
If I open my mouth now I'll fall to the ground
If I could open my mouth. There's so much I would say.
Like I can never be honest. Like I'm in it for the thrill.
Like I never loved anyone. And I never will.
Eagle bites the weasel. Weasel bites back.
They fly up to nowhere. Weasel keeps hangin' on.
Together forever.
I remember that old coat my grandma used to wear
Made of weasels biting each other's tails
A vicious circle. An endless ride.
On the back of an old woman.
Eagle bites the weasel. Weasel bites back.
They fly up to nowhere. Weasel keeps hangin' on.
Together forever.
And me? I'm goin' in circles. I'm circling around.
And if I open my mouth now I'll fall to the ground.
BRIGHT RED
Did she fall or was she pushed?
Your shirt on my chair
Your shirt on my chair
I'll be with you. I'll be there.
I'll never leave you.
Your shirt on my chair.
Come here little girl. Get into the car.
It's a brand new Cadillac. Bright red. Come here little girl.
Hey! Haven't I seen you somewhere before?
Your despair in my heart. Bright red.
Your words in my ears.
I'll be with you. I'll be there. I'll never leave you.
Wild beasts shall rest there
And owls shall answer one another there
And the hairy ones shall dance there
And sirens in the temples of pleasure.
Your shirt on my chair
I'll be with you. I'll be there. I'll never leave you.
Your shirt on my chair.
THE PUPPET MOTEL
I live on the highway near the Puppet Motel.
I log in every day. I know the neighborhood well.
Now about the residents of the Puppet Motel
They're more than a little spooky
And most of them are mean. They're runnin' the numbers
They're playin' cops and robbers
Down in their dungeons inside their machines.
Cause they don't know what's really real now
They're havin' fourth dimensional dreams
Their minds are out on bail now
And real is only what it seems.
And all the puppets in this digital jail
They're runnin' around in a frenzy in search of the Holy Grail.
They're havin' virtual sex. They're eatin' virtual food.
No wonder these puppets are always in a lousy mood.
So if you think we live in a modern world
Where everything is clean and swell
Take a walk on the B side of town down by the Puppet Motel.
Take a whiff. Burning plastic.
I drink a cup of coffee I try to revive
My mind's a blank I'm barely alive
My nerves are shot I feel like hell
Guess it's time to check in at the Puppet Motel.
Boot up. Good afternoon. Pause.
Oooo. I really like the way you talk.
Pardon me. Shut down.
SPEAK MY LANGUAGE
Daddy Daddy. It was just like you said
Now that the living outnumber the dead.
Where I come from it's a long thin thread
Across an ocean. Down a river of red.
Now that the living outnumber the dead. I'm one of many.
Daddy Daddy. It was just like you said
Now that the living outnumber the dead.
Speak my language.
Hello. Hello.
Here come the quick. There go the dead.
here they come. Bright red. Speak my language.
WORLD WITHOUT END
I remember where I came from
There were burning buildings and a fiery red sea
I remember all my lovers
I remember how they held me
World without end remember me.
East. The edge of the world.
West. Those who came before me.
When my father dies we put him in the ground
When my father died it was like a whole library
Had burned down. World without end remember me.
FREEFALL
You're out on the ocean and you get pulled down
Freefall to the bottom
Like when you're drowning or falling asleep
You get turned around
And when you think you're swimming to the surface
You're swimming straight down.
Down to the bottom. All the way to the bottom.
Secret codes and cryptograms
I'm lost in your words I'm swimming.
We're going down to the bottom. All the way to the bottom.
Rapture of the deep.
I got your letter. I couldn't read it. It was a cryptogram.
Did it say Take me with you or Take me as I am?
We're going down to the bottom.
All the way to the bottom. We get turned around.
There is another world spinning inside of this one.
I remember where I came from
There were tropical breezes and a wide open sea
I remember my childhood
I remember being free.
Down to the bottom.
All the way to the bottom. We get turned around.
There is another world inside of this one.
Rapture of the deep.
We're going down to the bottom.
There is another world spinning inside of this one.
MUDDY RIVER
Rain keeps pouring down
Houses are cracking. People drown.
Cars are rusting here. A church floats by
Washed in the blood of the lamb.
And all the superhighways have disappeared
One by one. And all the towns and cities and signs
Are underwater now. They're gone.
We're going down by the muddy river
We're walking down by the muddy river
Somebody tell me please
What happened here?
Mud is everywhere.
Fish are swimming in the fields.
Everybody's running around, they're yelling
Is this the end of the known world?
Men and women in their boats
Try to save what they've lost.
They're yelling, It's all gone now.
We're never gonna find it again.
But when the muddy river starts to rise
It covers us all. And when I look into your eyes
Two tiny clocks two crystal balls
We begin again. We try.
We begin again. Down by.
We're going down by the muddy river.
We begin again down by the muddy river.
We're walking down by down by the muddy river.
We're going down by down by the muddy river.
BEAUTIFUL PEA GREEN BOAT
I'm lying in the shade of my family tree
I'm a branch that broke off
What will become of me?
Dear Mom, I'm lying here in this queen-sized bed.
I'm thinking back
To all the stories you read to me.
About the little animals who went to sea
In their beautiful pea green boat.
But I can't remember now
What happened then?
Dear Mom, how does it end?
The owl and the pussycat went to sea
In a beautiful pea green boat.
They took some honey and lots of money
Wrapped in a five pound note.
The owl looked up to the stars above
And sang to a small guitar.
O lovely pussy! Pussy my love!
What a wonderful pussy you are.
Let us be married
Too long we've tarried
But what shall we do for a ring?
What shall we do for a ring?
Hey! Hey!
They sailed away for a year and a day
To the land where the bong tree grows
And there in a wood a piggy wig stood
A ring at the end of his nose
A ring at the end of his nose.
And hand in hand at the edge of the sand
They danced by the light of the
By the light of the, by the light of the moon.
And hand in hand at the edge of the sand
They danced by the light of the
By the light of the, by the light of the moon.
The moon, the moon.
Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!
LOVE AMONG THE SAILORS
There is a hot wind blowing
it moves across the oceans and into every port.
A plague. A black plague. There's danger everywhere
And you've been sailing.
And you're all alone on an island now tuning in.
Did you think this was the way
Your world would end?
Hombres. Sailors. Comrades.
There is no pure land now. No safe place.
And we stand here on the pier
Watching you drown.
Love among the sailors.
Love among the sailors.
There is a hot wind blowing.
Plague drifts across the oceans.
And if this is the work of an angry god
I want to look into his angry face.
There is no pure land now. No safe place.
Come with us into the mountains.
Hombres. Sailors. Comrades.
POISON
It was one of those black cat night
The moon had gone out and the air was thin
It was the kind of night the cat would drag in.
I'll never forget it, we had a fight.
Then you turned around turned on the light. You left our bed.
Then you moved downstairs to live with her instead.
Yeah just one floor and a shout away.
I guess I should have moved but I decided to stay.
Did I drink some poison that I don't remember now?
And every night I open all the windows
I let a cold dark wind blow through.
I play loud organ music and I talk to myself and dream of you.
Uh oh! I hear voices coming up through the pipes.
Through all the springs in my bed and up through the lights.
The volume goes up then it drops back down
I can hear the two of you playing records
Moving furniture and fooling around.
Did I drink some poison that I don't remember now?
Is there blood on my hands?
No, my hands are clean.
Did I do something in another lifetime
That was really really mean?
Yeah I'm hearing voices.
Am I losing my mind?
Think I'm going crazy, I gotta get out.
I run into the street and start to shout
Get out of my way! Get out! Get out!
Did I drink some poison that I don't remember now?
Is there blood on my hands?
Did I do something in another lifetime
that was really really mean?
A small bullet, a piece of glass
And your heart just grows around it.
IN OUR SLEEP
In our sleep as we speak
Listen to the drums beat
As we speak
In our sleep as we speak
Listen to the drums beat
In our sleep
In our sleep as we speak
Listen to the drums beat
As we speak
As we speak in our sleep
Listen to the drums beat
In our sleep
In our sleep as we speak
Listen to the drums beat
As we speak
In our sleep as we speak
Listen to the drums beat
In our sleep
In our sleep where we meet
In our sleep where we meet
NIGHT IN BAGHDAD
And oh it's so beautiful
It's like the Fourth of July
It's lie a Christmas tree
It's like the fireflies on a summer night.
And I wish I could describe this to you better.
But I can't talk very well now
Cause I've got this damned gas mask on.
So I'm just going to stick this microphone out the window
And see if we can hear a little better. Hello California?
What's the weather like out there now?
And I only have one question: Did you ever really love me?
Only when we danced. And it was so beautiful.
It was like the Fourth of July.
It was like fireflies on a summer night.
TIGHTROPE
Last night I dreamed I died and that my life had
been rearranged into some kind of theme park.
And all my friends were walking up and down the boardwalk.
And my dead grandmother was selling
cotton candy out of a little shack.
And there was this big ferris wheel
about half a mile out in the ocean,
half in and half out of water.
And all my old boyfriends were on it.
With their new girlfriends.
And the boys were waving and shouting
and the girls were saying Eeek.
Then they disappeared under the surface of the water
and when they came up again they were laughing
and gasping for breath.
In this dream I'm on a tightrope
and I'm tipping back and forth trying to keep my balance.
And below me are all my relatives
and if I fall I'll crush them.
This long thin line. This song line. This shout.
The only thing that binds me to the turning world below
and all the people and noise and sounds and shouts.
This tightrope made of sound
This long thin line made of my own blood.
Remember me is all I ask.
And if remembered be a task forget me.
Remember me is all I ask.
And if remembered be a task forget me.
This long thin line. This long thin line.
This long thin line. This tightrope.
Remember me is all I ask.
And if remembered be a task forget me.
This long thin line. This long thin line.
This long thin line. This tightrope.
SAME TIME TOMORROW
You know the little clock, the one on your VCR
the one that's always blinking twelve noon
because you never figured out
how to get in there and change it?
So it's always the same time
just the way it came from the factory.
Good morning. Good night.
Same time tomorrow. We're in record.
So here are the questions: Is time long or is it wide?
And the answers? Sometimes the answers
just come in the mail. And one day you get the letter
you've been waiting for forever. And everything it says
is true. And then the last line says:
Burn this. We're in record.
And what I really want to know is: Are things getting better
or are they getting worse? Can we start all over again?
Stop. Pause. We're in record. Good morning. Good night.
Now I in you without a body move.
And in our hearts we fly. Standby.
Good morning. Good night.