Eno’s airport music turns calm into unease

ERR published this review, which originally appeared in Sirp, of an August 28 concert at Lennusadam museum featuring Brian Eno’s “Music for Airports.” The performance was part of the Estonian National Symphony Orchestra’s Audiospaa series.

The concert brought together the women’s group of Collegium Musicale’s chamber choir and a chamber ensemble of the Estonian National Symphony Orchestra. Vambola Krigul transcribed and arranged the work.

The performers were Mari-Katrina Suss and Triin Krigul on violin and piano, Helena Altmanis on viola and piano, Theodor Sink on cello, Imre Eenma on bass guitar, Kärt Ruubel on piano, Sara D’Amico on harp, Lauri Metsvahi on vibraphone, Vambola Krigul on Rhodes, Erki Möller on trumpet, Indrek Vau on piccolo trumpet, Kalle Koppel on French horn, Diogo Fernandes and Peeter Margus on trombone, Johannes Kiik on bass trombone, and Madis Vilgats on tuba.

The reviewer arrived at Lennusadam just two minutes before the concert began and found a seat in the second row, directly behind the synthesizer. Eno’s “Music for Airports” is a personal favourite, often used by the reviewer for lying on the floor and daydreaming, as well as while walking through airports.

The larger and noisier the airport, the more idyllic and calming the cycle’s extremely peaceful, flowing and static quality seems by comparison. It also allows the reviewer to feel cultured in rooms packed with travellers.

Unlike a conventional concert hall, the venue was a museum. Ships, an aquarium and a submarine surrounded the audience. The vast room was filled with equipment but otherwise empty, allowing even the smallest sound to travel for a long time across its grey walls and ceiling.

When the concert began, the lights went out and silence remained. The orchestra entered after about a minute of complete audience silence, while tiny blue lights came on around the square stage positioned between two blocks of chairs.

The first part began calmly. Echoes of the melodies rising from the instruments continued for about 15 seconds after they were played, moving from one hangar wall to another and back from the ceiling towards the audience. The crowd, perhaps made overly expectant by the long silence before the performance, relaxed almost immediately. The reviewer did the same, but soon became unsure where to look.

Beyond the musicians’ playing, little happened. Even the blue-grey broad-stripe patterns projected onto the ceiling remained still. The excessive calm surrounding the peaceful music created a deep unease in the reviewer rather than inner peace, making the reviewer more restless.

The reviewer noticed a small yellow light beside the submarine’s chimney and at least five people trying to record the concert. Three attempts ended with a mobile phone’s flash going off, followed by the rapid hiding of the phone.

Trying to focus on the trance-inducing music, the reviewer then noticed the Collegium Musicale singers moving silently across a bridge above the stage. At the end of the first part, the orchestra members below switched off the lights on their music stands, while the singers on the bridge took one collective breath.

The second part of the cycle was originally recorded by Eno in Berlin and consists of fragments of women’s voices electronically cut into pieces and reassembled in different ways from tape. At Lennusadam, seven choir singers performed the same material by repeating vocal passages and switching parts.

The live performance added considerably to the music. The active forward motion and energy that only a singer can create in the moment, combined with the powerful hall’s soft, long echo, made the reviewer feel that everything was all right. The reviewer noted that this had become a new favourite part of the cycle, replacing the third part.