9TH ANNUAL NAPOMO 30/30/30 :: DAY 17 :: Elio Icaza on Brian Eno

brian eno

In conversation with Brian Eno: the landscapes of self-isolation

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St. Elmo’s Fire
from Another Green World, 1975
Brian Eno

Brown Eyes and I were tired
We had walked and we had scrambled
Through the moors and through the briars
Through the endless blue meanders

In the blue August moon
In the cool August moon

Over the nights and through the fires
We went surging down the wires
Through the towns and on the highways
Through the storms in all their thundering

In the blue August moon
In the cool August moon

Well, we rested in a desert
Where the bones were white as teeth, sir
And we saw St. Elmo’s Fire
Splitting ions in the ether

In the blue August moon
In the cool August moon

As Brown Eyes and [Blue Eyes] walk across a desert, I sail unmoored in a vast and gentle sea. We’re both traveling to soundtracks written and recorded by Brian Eno. I play Discreet Music, as I find it easier to focus with instrumentals. I listen and write from my new apartment in Berlin.

This is where I return to when I crave inspiration. Here, I’m under the big sky, and my shadow is cool. A gathering synthesizer fills the sails of my ship. I am moving, but looking at myself looking at nothing in particular. Funny. There’s just this thought of a perfectly framed, lonely sailor. I bow down to the sun and the moon, over and over again. Days pass in seconds. I hope St. Elmo’s Fire will choose me one of these nights.

Occasionally, I hear a car’s wake. I remember that I’m not on deck, but self-isolating in Charlottenburg, in Berlin’s west side.

What more is there to see in Berlin? What have I missed here? Clubbing. Dating. Connections. Live music. Open mics that aren’t digital. New friends. New jobs. Learning German with new people. Visiting Jewish sites. Fulfilling my musical pilgrimage to Bowie’s apartment, Eno’s studio, and the wall. One day, I hope to play my songs at those venues, record in those studios, and gather something from the artists I admire most.

I’ve been sketching for three weeks now. Writing little vignettes of worlds. Songs of heartbreak and fascination. It’s what I mostly think about. Are they appropriate for this new world? I feel close to a welcoming coast, but I think it's one where lonely world-building is less sexy. I’ll miss my ride, the strength of its hull, and its views of everywhere. For now, as I continue writing, I dream of those shores.

Elio Icaza Milson writes music, poetry, and digital media.

He’s guided by a simple phrase: Listen to the land. His work weaves landscapes with their ever-shifting names, stories, and identities.

Raised in Panama, graduated from RISD, and traveled in Australia. Please reach out on Instragram: @elioicaza or his website: elioicaza.com/about.