By: David Schultz

No one could ever fault Ian Anderson for failing to understand his appeal. As the most recognizable face of Jethro Tull, he has made an extraordinarily productive living by extending the seminal English band's legacy into its fourth decade with timely re-releases, live archival recordings and greatest hits packages. In fact, Tull's most recent album, which they initially gave away during their 2005 fall tour, simply consisted of their live recreation of Aqualung as part of XM Radio's Then . . . Again . . . Live series. Given that Tull has released just one album of new material in the last decade, it's easy to imagine Anderson lounging comfortably upon his piles of Aqualung loot . . . and not solely because he jokes about doing just that. To the contrary, when not fronting Jethro Tull alongside guitarist Martin Barre, Anderson branches out into the world of orchestral flute. Without straying far from his Jethro Tull roots, Anderson uses his solo performances to show off a more personal side, poignantly offering a reminder that despite his reputation as a wild-eyed, shaggy medieval avatar of classic rock, he's an incredibly talented and enormously entertaining neo-classical flautist.

Anderson's solo tour recently traveled through New York City, coming to the Rose Theater at Lincoln Center, a venue normally reserved for jazz. Accompanied by bluegrass-style violinist Ann Marie Calhoun, an orchestra comprised of members of the New England Conservatory of Music and a four piece electric band, Anderson availed himself of the opportunities presented by the Rose's acoustically superior concert space. The fact that he fronts a progressive rock band known for singing songs about scruffy men who eye little girls with band intent tends to obscure the fact that Anderson is a technically skilled, accomplished flautist. Not only has Anderson played with many of the world's most renowned flautists, he's written music for them as well. On this night, as he has throughout his tour, he played "Grimelli's Lament," one such "piece of music" that he wrote for Andrea Grimelli as well as a violin and flute adaptation of "Sefika's Tango," a song Anderson wrote as a duet for himself and Turkish flautist Sefika Kutluer. A delightful surprise, the stunning Calhoun spent a small portion of the show occupying the orchestra's first chair and the rest acting as Anderson's foil. Occasionally mooning over the lovely violinist, Anderson clearly relished sharing the stage with Calhoun, letting her lead on two of her own compositions.

The orchestra allowed Anderson to present his instrumental pieces and Tull classics like "Bouree" with an added panache. With respect to the Jethro Tull material, the strings brought authenticity to "Life's A Long Song" and "Wond'ring Aloud," gave depth to "My God" and "Locomotive Breath" and permitted Anderson to completely deconstruct "Aqualung." While the strings dominated the ensemble, Anderson featured the oboe and bassoon during Aqualung's "Cheap Day Return" and "Mother Goose." A Keith Emerson influenced adaptation of Leonard Bernstein's "America" came across as a tad schmaltzy as did "Mo'z Art," an appropriately named medley that far acceded its groan-inducing title. Near the close of the show, the orchestra seemed a little out of place: while they couldn't save an interminably long "Budapest," the violin section pumping their violins over their head during "Locomotive Breath" adorably captured the feel of the show.

Anderson's band featured Tull keyboardist Andrew Giddings and his son James Duncan on drums. With the show focused around orchestral arrangements of several Tull classics, the band seemed superfluous on the interpretations of "Locomotive Breath" and "Thick As A Brick," though Giddings immesurably aided the latter. When delving into the non-orchestral Tull segments, the songs, accentuating elegance over brawn, didn't seem to soar with the same excitement or volume. Possibly, this owed to the staid, reserved venue; most likely, it was that, save Giddings, they weren't Tull.

In between songs, Anderson regaled the audience with his engaging sense of humor, touching on topics familiar to his longtime fans. With rakish English charm, Anderson shows he hasn't become an egotistical classic rock dinosaur: he knows he's old; that he's been playing Aqualung for nigh on 35 years and that Calhoun first heard "King Henry's Madrigal" on her father's old Jethro Tull album. He embraces rather than runs from these facts and his honesty remains part of his indelible appeal. Anderson also pulled out his customary slate of trademark poses: perching on one leg, phallically strumming his flute during guitar solos and playfully wandering the stage in his idiosyncratic way.

Despite a trove of solo material to sample from, Anderson kept his show well steeped in beloved Aqualung era material. As his fans have come to expect "Thick As A Brick," "Locomotive Breath" and "Aqualung" and other early-era Tull classics at every performance, be it Tull or a solo show: Anderson never disappoints. While some musicians have crumbled under the weight of their fans' insistence on hearing their old songs for years on end, Anderson shoulders that burden with ease. Given the enthusiasm he still has for his old material, it's hard to imagine he feels anything but excitement at the opportunity to play familiar songs for old friends. However, on the whole, Anderson seems hesitant to perform a show that significantly distances itself from Tull's weighty catalog. While Anderson's Tull-lite solo shows leave little room for complaints from longtime fans, he may be underestimating his audience's ability and desire to see him in a different role. In line with Owen Wilson's rant from Armageddon, Tull fans can be quite indignant when others mistake Ian Anderson for Jethro Tull; Anderson should help them out by drawing a brighter line between the two.

Labels: Ian Anderson