Brian Eno is MORE DARK THAN SHARK

INTERVIEWS, REVIEWS & RELATED ARTICLES

New Musical Express AUGUST 1, 1981 - by Chris Bohn

PENGUIN CAFE ORCHESTRA: PENGUIN CAFE ORCHESTRA

The Orchestra's earlier Music From The Penguin Cafe was - along with Gavin Bryars' highly individual contributions - one of the few LPs on Brian Eno's Obscure label really worth investigating beyond the series' always stimulating sleevenotes. Where the other records had theories in abundance the PCO also had some tunes - not to mention a winningly bizarre sense of humour.

The PCO used to come on like a mutant string ensemble that amused itself in the corner of a Regency hotel lobby by throwing its parts out of sync midway through a leafy melody by segueing into electronically enhanced discordant musings. Five years have lapsed between that record and this one; in _the interim leader / mastermind Simon Jeffes has ditched that essentially flippant derailing technique for a more straight-laced composure. It's a pity for - as sweetly engaging as PCO undoubtedly is - it is nowhere near so compulsive listening. But it has its own compensations.

Jeffes, a maverick classical guitarist whose pop involvement includes helping out Bow Wow Wow, Sid Vicious, Bryan Ferry and Rupert Hine, has professed himself profoundly dissatisfied with the state of performance musics, be they classical or contemporary, rock or folk. His search for a personal form has taken him through the indigenous musics of the world before he arrived at this one, which subtly incorporates many different sources.

Standing outside fashion, his refusal to easily adhere to one style is nevertheless firmly in keeping with the mood of the times, but unlike most of pop's mix 'n' match exoticism, his is more the product of blending rather than contrasting elements. Thus, where the Afro-funk freaks wear their primal drumbeats like colourful accessories, Jeffes weaves strands of, say. South American, African or even British folk musics straight into his particular tapestry.

Thus the PCO always sound familiar even if their components are no longer recognisable beyond the characteristics of their instruments (ukeleles, cuatros, guitars, accordions, shakers, bongos and strings, to name a few). The effect is of an immediately appealing music suspended in time and place - at one moment pleasantly pastoral at another irresistibly reeling.

It juggles folksy jigs alongside sterner string fripperies like Air Danser and shuffles like The Ecstasy Of Dancing Fleas, against the mild disorientation of an embellished Walk Don't Run. PCO at best is strange, witty and whimsical, at worst charmingly forgettable. Whatever, in the soberly lurching step of Salty Bean Fumble it provides incontrovertible evidence that squares dance, too.