By: David Schultz

With the world hanging on every bit of news as to Led Zeppelin’s future plans, which may or may not include a tour with The Cult and a headlining spot at Bonnaroo, New York’s attention recently focused on another English blues band from that era: Jethro Tull. The mania accompanying Led Zep’s return may have been missing but Tull’s return to the Big Apple gave reasonable cause for excitement. Even though Tull’s motivating force, flautist Ian Anderson, has played a couple solo shows in the interim, Tull’s return this past Sunday night for a sold-out show at the Hammerstein Ballroom marked the first true NYC Tull performance in more than 4 years. When compared to Anderson’s solo shows, the songs may remain relatively the same but unless you have guitarist Martin Barre, you don’t have Jethro Tull. Since forming in the late 60s, Tull has gone through many iterations and combinations but until recently the lineup had remained relatively stable. Although Doane Perry remains behind the drums, a seat he’s held for more than 20 years, the band is now completed with newcomers John O’Hara (keyboards) and David Goodier (bass).

After opening with an acoustic rendition of “Someday The Sun Won’t Shine For You,” Anderson led the band through a set that touched on electric blues (“Nothing Is Easy”), complex progressive rock suites (“My God” and “Budapest”) and baroque chamber pieces (the concert staple “Bouree”). No longer a band that desires to blow out your eardrums, Tull’s best moments occurred on quieter pieces that stressed Anderson’s brilliant skills as a classical flautist; his exquisite version of Benefit’s “Reasons For Waiting” being one of the major highlights of the evening. The Hammerstein show featured everything you’ve come to expect from a Jethro Tull show . . . and in some ways that proved disappointing. First though, a bit of background.

Along with wearing out a cassette of the “Top 15” of WNEW’s mid 80s countdown of the top 1027 rock and roll songs of all time (an initial effort that inadvertently omitted “Won’t Get Fooled Again” and “Free Bird” due to an alleged computer error), my real awakening to classic rock occurred when my uncle made me a tape of Jethro Tull’s Thick As A Brick. One listen to the 45 minute song spread out over two album sides and I was hooked. Tull’s concept album served as a gateway to popular Tull fare like Aqualung and Songs From The Wood as well as lesser-known but equally revelatory albums like A Passion Play and Minstrel In The Gallery. Once I got my first CD player, it was just a matter of time before my collection contained each and every Tull album, including the dreadfully synthesized Under Wraps (even though “Lap Of Luxury” totally rocked). Classic rock radio only scratches the surface of the depths of Tull’s exceptional body of work.

I count myself among Jethro Tull’s biggest fans and ardent supporters. As such, it pains me that they are no longer relevant. Over a thirty year stretch spanning 1968 through 1999, Tull recorded more than twenty albums of original material, amassing a back catalog that rivals their classic rock brethren in the Grateful Dead and The Allman Brothers Band. Unfortunately, over the last five or six years, Tull has taken to the road with what seems to the same dozen songs to complement obligatory renditions of “Locomotive Breath,” “Aqualung” and “Thick As A Brick.” An exceedingly large majority of Tull’s fan base possess a near encyclopedic knowledge of Tull’s history and back catalog. In repeatedly trotting out the same set of warhorses like “My Sunday Feeling” and “Living In The Past,” beloved as they may be, Tull misses the opportunity to mine the treasure trove that is at their disposal and truly give their avid fans, which is pretty much who they are playing to, something memorable. Since they’ve ceased creating original music, Tull’s modus operandi involves sporadic appearances in various regions. In doing so, they don’t have to worry about wholesale changes to the set list as they aren’t coming close to saturating any specific territory. It’s frustrating that Tull has the ability, but apparently not the willingness, to take up a residency, radically shake up their set lists and provide concert experiences that can be rivaled by only a few.

When Phil Lesh, Bob Weir or the Allmans take the stage, they strive to reinvent material from all phases of their lengthy careers; to the ecstatic glee of their fans, they continuously resurrect songs otherwise delegated to the deep cuts station of satellite radio. At the Hammerstein, Tull showed a willingness and aptitude for deconstructing their old material. With a major assist from the Calliandra String Quartet, they turned in a gorgeous orchestral adaptation of “Songs From The Wood” and in the same manner as Anderson’s solo shows, offered a reinvention of “Aqualung” that only briefly replicated the version heard daily on classic rock radio. About ¼ of Tull’s Hammerstein show came from Anderson’s recent solo tour, in which he incorporated strings into many of Tull’s familiar arrangements. In addition to the revamped and jazzier “Aqualung,” Anderson also brought his prog-rocked version of Leonard Bernstein’s “America” and a baroque style arrangement of “King Henry’s Madrigal.” For anyone who wasn’t experiencing Tull for the first time, there wasn’t much new to see or hear. Not that seeing Ian Anderson and Martin Barre do what they do best isn’t entertaining, it’s just that they are clearly capable of more.

Tull’s timeless music bridges centuries as well as genres. In their prime, they were just as prone to play solid English blues as they were to drift off into a medieval melody or a chamber piece from the 1600s. In many ways, these eccentricities have made Tull a vastly under appreciated band. Even though they have been eligible for quite some time, they never seem to be under consideration for induction into the Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame despite the fact that their initial forays into progressive rock paved the road for a diverse array of modern day prog-rock bands like The Decemberists, The Mars Volta and Umphrey’s McGee. With his tongue partially in cheek, Anderson will often crack wise about Tull’s lack of new material and people’s willingness to spend their money on their frequent reissues and relatively high-priced tickets. Like most humor though, there is a kernel of truth hidden within. In keeping things relatively static, Anderson and by extension Tull come across as happily complacent. They are missing an opportunity to recapture a legacy that is rightfully theirs and attract a whole new generation of fans to their music. It’s something their fans spend time trying to do for them; it would be nice if they showed the same interest.

Labels: Ian Anderson, Jethro Tull, Live Reviews