A woman in a navy hat and a grey overcoat sat down next to Brian Eno on a bench in the park.
“Hi, I’m Brian Eno,” said Brian Eno. “I coined the term ‘ambient music’ after collaborating extensively with krautrock musicians in the 70s, and also composed the album ‘Apollo’, songs from which have appeared in over three major motion pictures.”
“Hello,” said the woman, “My name is Dorothy.”
Brian Eno beamed. Brian Eno couldn’t say what this meant to him—couldn’t verbalize the depth of emotion he was experiencing in that moment—and so abandoned any attempt. Instead, Brian Eno continued to sit there, on the park bench, looking straight into the verdant space before him, his smile draped from both ears.
“Grandma,” said a small boy—probably around 7 or 8, Brian Eno thought—who approached Dorothy. “I just swinged on the swings…and it was really awesome!”
“Hi,” said Brian Eno to the boy. “I’m Brian Eno. I innovated music with my 1978 album ‘Music for Airports’, which was an acclaimed artistic success.” The boy looked down at his feet.
“This is Dalton,” said Dorothy. “Dalton’s a little bit shy, aren’t you Dalton?” Dalton buried his head into Dorothy’s grey overcoat. “Can you show me what you did on the swing?” Dorothy asked Dalton, who shook his head. “What if I go over to the swings with you?” Dorothy asked again. Slowly, Dalton backed out of Dorothy’s breast and pulled her by the arm to the swing set, where he sat in the swing and began to move back and forth.
Brian Eno, watching the scene play out in front of him, felt a sense of pride. No, that wasn’t it; Brian Eno felt a sense of accomplishment—he had been here to experience this moment from its genesis. He was forever changed.
A jogger passed Brian Eno, who thought it may be a good idea to follow him. Brian Eno arose from the bench and proceeded to walk in the same direction that the jogger was going, but he quickly fell behind and became distracted by some ducks near a pond. They were walking around a structure that Brian Eno also saw there. When Brian Eno approached them, they began to quack.
“Hi, I’m Brian Eno,” said Brian Eno to the ducks. Brian Eno bent down to look at them. “I worked together with Phil Collins, John Cale, and Robert Fripp on my third studio album ‘Another Green World’, which marked a substantial departure from my previous music, and which would prove to be a crucial step in the development of ‘ambient music’ as a larger genre.”
The ducks quacked with the force of sheer indifference. Some quacked at Brian Eno, some quacked at one another, and still others simply quacked around or near Brian Eno. Brian Eno suddenly straightened his back with a jerk and looked at the ducks, in awe at what he had just experienced.
“This is phenomenal—unbelievable,” Brian Eno gasped. Brian Eno reached for a small digital recording device that he kept in his left pocket with his keys and brought it out into the non-pocket world, the world of objects, at the ready. Brian Eno began to record the ducks quacking. As Brian Eno did this, the ducks began to grow louder in volume; the sound felt more like screaming, really, like howling. Passersby peered out off of the asphalt trail into the pond area, alarmed, worried that something was happening to the ducks, that something unintended for perception by human consciousness had occurred. Brian Eno felt an uncontrollable sense of power rise up within himself.
“Hi, I’m Brian Eno,” Brian Eno called over the horrible sound to the passersby who had stopped to stare. “I created the album ‘Music for Films’ as a selection of songs I wrote to be the soundtracks to imaginary films! However, six of them did eventually appear in very real film productions throughout the late 70s and early 80s!” Brian Eno began to tremble violently as he felt the surges of raw and unadulterated sound energy flow through his body. “Now I am recording these ducks for my next album, ‘Brian Eno’! I hope you will not be alarmed—this is something I do quite often, and I can assure you that ‘Brian Eno’ will be my best work to date!”’
Brian Eno dropped the two sheets of paper in his hands onto the conference room desk. Brian Eno stood up and turned around to look out the window of the room that he and 12 others, all members of the Brian Eno Marketing Team, were sitting in. Brian Eno leaned on the windowsill with both hands, gazed into the gentle grey hue of the overcast London sky.
“Really?” Brian Eno finally said after some moments. Brian Eno let his gaze fall to his feet. Years of being a leader in innovation—years of cultivating his craft as the master of ‘ambient music’—and yet, somehow, this is where it had all culminated. It had really come to this.
“How confident do we feel about this approach?” Brian Eno asked slowly, eyes closed, face tilted downward.
“With all due respect, Brian Eno,” started a young man—Davy, 25, marketing (BBA)—at the far end of the table. But someone else—Kris, 34, management (MBA)—at the head of the table, nearest Brian Eno, immediately looked at him sternly.
“This is how we want to tell them?” Brian Eno spoke up again. Brian Eno turned around violently and pointed to the two sheets of paper now lying scattered across the tabletop. “This is how we want to tell them about ‘Brian Eno’, the final installment in the grand march toward the realization of ‘ambient music’?” Brian Eno glared directly into the table of marketers. A vein throbbed in Brian Eno’s head.
“We thought it might make some good memes,” said Kris, 34, management (MBA) before clearing her throat. “The best way to get accepted by The Millennnials is to make fun of yourself.”
Brian Eno slowly sat down in his chair to face the Brian Eno Marketing Team—calmly, politically. Brian Eno picked up an apple from before—approx. 1/5 consumed—and bit into it. Brian Eno chewed the bite of apple that he had just taken.
Brian Eno was wearing a black turtleneck, Davy, 25, marketing (BBA) noticed.
“Right,” said Brian Eno. “I understand that these are the games that we must play. I am aware of this. I trust you, the Brian Eno Marketing Team—after all, I pay hundreds of thousands of dollars for your judgment.” Brian Eno took another bite of his apple. “But I want to be certain—absolutely certain—that you are confident in this approach.”
The room was silent, mostly, except for the sound of a pencil scribbling on a notepad. Davy, 25, marketing (BBA), was making cursory plans for a tentative Brian Eno Marketing Team project, a marketing strategy for Brian Eno.
“Brian Eno—and Kris, if I may—I have an idea,” Davy, 25, marketing (BBA), finally said. The entire Brian Eno Marketing Team turned to look at Davy, 25, marketing (BBA), and so did Brian Eno. A few of them breathed heavily while doing it.
“Please,” whispered Brian Eno. “Share.” Brian Eno affected nonchalance as he bit into his apple and chewed it like before, and the Brian Eno Marketing Team, including Kris, 34, management (MBA), suffered a great deal of suspense in this moment. The silence was a thick silence, a silence of sheer indifference. The silence simply did not care whether one acknowledged it or just wished to leave the room to avoid it; the silence was like steel wool, unable to be broken, more than prepared to ruin everything, and really ugly. Davy, 25, marketing (BBA), finished jotting down a few last notes.
“I think we should take more of a mainstream approach, utilizing pastel colors and papier-mâché, as well as pushing content through all the traditional television and video channels,” Davy, 25, marketing (BBA) finally said.
“What in the fuck?” Brian Eno shouted. Brian Eno threw down the three sheets of paper in his hands. Surrounding Brian Eno were a couple of ceramic animals and various other pieces of lawn décor, each selected and arranged by Sebastian, his housekeeper. Brian Eno was lying on a lawn chair, mostly undressed, beneath the Ibiza sun on a hot July afternoon.
“Where did you find this rubbish?” Brian Eno shouted at Sebastian, his housekeeper.
Sebastian, his housekeeper, handed Brian Eno a Sidecar, a cocktail traditionally made with cognac, orange liqueur, and lemon juice, and said, “It was on the internet, Brian Eno, on one of those web logs. Do you know how I mean?”
Brian Eno scoffed. Brian Eno knew what a “web log” was; “Brian Eno” had been mentioned in over one hundred thousand of them. Brian Eno glared at Sebastian, his housekeeper, and felt an uncontrollable sense of power rise up within himself.
Brian Eno took a sip of his Sidecar, a cocktail traditionally made with cognac, orange liqueur, and lemon juice, and lay back down in his lawn chair. Then Brian Eno said, “Christ.”