365-2-50

365-2-50

Thursday 20 December 2018

Thursday December 20th 2018


The Mighty Tull : As Steve Coogan's wonderful character Tommy Saxondale quoted within most episodes of Saxondale. 

It's a shame that this comedy never caught on, too clever and obscure maybe. I loved it, as I love Tull.  In the 30+ years since I discovered Jethro Tull I have never ever tired of their music. Mainly as their repertoire is as eclectic as Queen (the other band I never tire of).  From full blown 1960's progressive drug induced psychedelic concept songs, to single track albums inspired by madrigals or passion plays, to full blown rock inspired by the natural world. A brief interlude happened in 1984 when a hedonistic mix of disco based folk rock slammed into their back catalogue, Under Wraps. This style was soon dropped and normality returned with Crest of a Knave in 1987 and Rock Island 1989, Tull's last full blown commercial album. Since the 1990's they have produced a smorgasbord of folk, blues, rock, flautist albums penned by Ian Anderson and continuing the phantom lineage of Tull emanating from my 150w bad boy speaker system. And played on vinyl.

None of your millennials digital recordings virtual reality music for me - I have many CD's but I'm most definitely a full blown, hot pressed wax vinyl man. Nothing creates the sound quality of vinyl in a domestic setting. It was a vinyl copy of Songs From The Wood, their 10th album, which got me into this world. As a stripling of 21 years of age I found myself working in a public music library in South Shields.  One cold and dark evening just before closing time a man came in to return the records he'd borrowed. One was Jethro Tull, Songs from the Wood. I liked the cover, a man and his dog in a woodland by a fire, an image which corresponded with my increasing interest in paganism and conservation. Rather than returning this to the shelves, I took it out myself that evening, rushed home and placed it on the gramophone. And then I played it repeatedly for three hours and for a whole week afterwards. The seed of Tull was sown. Working in a public library I could borrow the Tull back catalogue and my love of their music flourished. 

I've seen them live many times, but stopped around 5 years ago, as while Ian Andreson sounds as good on a heavily mixed recording, on stage his voice has gone. That tour, Thick as a Brick in 2013 included an avatar singer Ryan O'Donnell who eerily sounded like a younger Anderson. It was a great show, but my heart spoke to me, stop. But their music continues out of the speakers and today it was a lesser known album Stormwatch which I listened to. This was the last of a trio of shall we say countryside themed rock. My favourite song on the album is Dun Ringill, named after an Iron Age Fort on the Isle of Skye. Also on here is Dark Ages an apocalyptic view of humans destroying society and the environment. Anderson was ahead of the curve there, a very underrated album, in my humble opinion. 


Darlings are you ready for the long winter's fall?
Said the lady in her parlor
Said the butler in the hall.
Is there time for another?
Cried the drunkard in his sleep.
Not likely
Said the little child. What's done
The Lord can keep.
And the vicar stands a-praying.
And the television dies
As the white dot flickers and is gone
And no-one stops to cry.
The big jet rumbles over runway miles
That scar the patchwork green
Where slick tycoons and rich buffoons
Have opened up the seam
Of golden nights and champagne flights
Ad-man overkill
And in the haze
Consumer crazed
We take the sugar pill.
Jagged fires mark the picket lines
The politicians weep
And mealy-mouthed
Through corridors of power on tip-toe creep.
Come and see bureaucracy
Make its final heave
And let the new disorder through
While senses take their leave.
Families screaming line the streets
And put the windows through
In corner shops
Where keepers kept
The country's life-blood blue.
Take their pick
And try the trick
With loaves and fishes shared
And the vicar shouts
As the lights go out,
And no-one really cares.

Dark Ages
Shaking the dead
Closed pages
Better not read
Cold rages
Burn in your head.

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