Robert Fripp and Brian Eno - The Equatorial Stars (Opal / DGM)

Fripp and Eno’s first joint full-length in some thirty years drags along with it the noiseless chain of history and anticipation that threatens to keep it from even a first breath. While the disc is definitely a retread of now-hallowed ambient ground, sheer sonic depth and tempting textural play lift it just above the mythological nightmare of its own making.

Largely due to a resurgence in popularity of all things droney -- thanks to Fripp and Eno’s work with Matching Mole, which got the ball rolling in 1972 -- parts of Stars even exhibit a degree of fashion sense. “Meissa” opens with the staccato stutterings of what sounds like Eno-tweaked guitar, an advance in the Frippertronics camp bespeaking at least a wink in the direction of recent technological developments. The odd beat even shows its face, best integrated on “Lupus” yet sounding most pedestrian -- not so much offensive as simply outdated and plainly tasteful -- in “Altair”. In fact, “Meissa” might be viewed as the template from which almost every track on offer here is struck. As has been this duo’s wont, long loops swell, fade and then disappear. The overriding atmosphere is one of bliss, static and serene, and anyone familiar with Evening Star knows the formula. Such floatiness does not preclude a few moments of stock sinisterity, as in the first few moments of “Lupus”, and at the right volume, these are fairly effective.

What saves the disc from itself, and what I found most refreshing, are Fripp’s contributions. Occasionally, the worn-out synth patches I’ve come to dread with the audition of each new Crimson album rear their ugly heads, but by and large, we are treated to some beautifully textured improvisations, full of the gorgeous sustains and controlled feedback any Fripp fan has loved for so long. Much of Evening Star’s distortion has gone, or been somehow subsumed, but the playing is even more mature, each note bent, quivering or arrow-straight, fitting perfectly in its surroundings as if it had sprung up and grown tall just there. The disc ends with one of the longest and slowest fades I’ve ever heard, and this might be the most astonishing revelation from a disc that gets better with each spin.

~ Marc Medwin