Ian and the Gang Wowed the Crowd at Their Anniversary Bash, Despite a Pre-Show Comedy of Errors

Author: Peter Podbrežnik

Location: Arena Campagnola / Schio / Italy
Concert date: 03.07.2008
Attendance: 0

Almost a year after our last run-in with Jethro Tull in Graz, where we also had that unforgettable interview with Ian Anderson, the indestructible chieftain of this immortal British band, Aleš and I hit the road for Schio to catch the grandpas of progressive rock right in the middle of their 40th anniversary celebration. That meant the tour’s setlist put the emphasis on their first three albums (This Was, Stand Up, Benefit), from the days when they were still mostly playing blues rock/hard rock, before they discovered prog. Catching at least one Jethro Tull show has become a sort of yearly tradition for me, one you simply must not miss, and this special selection of material was one more reason to set off on a long trip. It turned out to be way more grueling and drawn out than we could have imagined even in our worst nightmare, although it all ended pretty well in the end.

That day, no exaggeration, absolutely everything that could go wrong did go wrong. Halfway to Schio, in endless columns of tourists that looked like proper mass migrations from some distant historical era, we got completely lost and went through a real ordeal, driving up and down hills and valleys before we finally made it to the venue. There’s really no point in describing all the unpleasant “adventures” we’d been through by then, and which didn’t stop even after we arrived (one of them is also the reason there are no photos with this report). Jethro Tull had already started their set by then, and Ian once again “distinguished” himself (to our dismay this time) with his almost proverbial punctuality.

Honestly, it was even a stroke of luck that we made it to the gig at all and only missed the first three numbers: the ancient classic “My Sunday Feeling” (the opening track from their debut, which rarely makes it onto their live menu these days, and the only one I was sorry we missed), the standard “Living In The Past”, and a minor surprise, “Serenade To A Cuckoo”, originally a Roland Kirk jazz standard and the legendary instrumental from the debut “This Was” (1968), considered the piece on which Ian taught himself to play the flute. We just managed to catch the closing passages of Ian’s flute work on it, right as they steered the show toward the cheeky, sexually tinged “Nursie”, originally from the popular compilation album “Living In The Past” (1972). This version of the cult tune, which they hadn’t played in years, was arranged after the one on “A Little Light Music” (1992), their second live album.

Alongside the two permanent sidekicks, the legendary guitarist Martin “Lancelot” Barre (in the band almost as long as Ian and, besides “his woodwind eminence,” the only indispensable member of Jethro Tull) and drummer Doane “Big Boy” Perry (in the band for more than 20 years, which is longer than all their previous drummers put together), Ian was joined on stage by bassist David Goodier and keyboardist John O’Hara, who are still total greenhorns by Jethro Tull standards, having joined only last year. Next came another ancient classic from the debut, the beloved “A Song For Jeffrey”, dedicated to their former (second ever) bassist Jeffrey Hammond, who after leaving the band at the turn of the 70s put his bass in the corner for good and turned to painting. As has been the rule in recent years, Ian again improvised like crazy with his seriously worn-out vocals, replacing “lost” vocal bits with flute passages wherever he could, and a few times, especially in the tougher parts that call for somewhat higher registers than usual, he simply ran out of steam. The selection of old songs was in many ways similar to the one you can find on the cult live album “Nothing Is Easy: Live At The Isle Of Wight ’70” (2004), and it has to be admitted that it was well balanced between some rarer songs from later periods and the obligatory standards.

One of the biggest surprises, if not the biggest, among the material from their later periods was the “forgotten” hard rocker “Rocks On The Road”, from the (by Tull standards) below-average album “Catfish Rising” (1991). That was followed by an excellent rendition of the beloved self-satire “Too Old To Rock’n’Roll, Too Young To Die” from the album of the same name. For now, despite their respectable age, Tull are still successfully dodging the fate promised by the title of this always entertaining burlesque. The standard and always hugely popular instrumental “Bourée” was also there, with Ian introducing it with “self-critical” words about the worst possible version of this J. S. Bach classic, which they’d turned into “bar jazz of the worst kind”.

Despite a hugely routine performance, typical of all professionals and unavoidable after so many years, the man once again fired off all sorts of mostly very witty jokes, fitting his sharp British humor. Those, along with the obligatory moments of dancing on one leg while playing the flute and a few minor stage dance acrobatics, which are a special feat for someone his age these days, have long been one of his trademarks. To close out the main set came two prehistoric classics from their second album, “Stand Up” (1969): “A New Day Yesterday” (during which Ian wove a motif from the hugely popular, jokey instrumental “Kelpie”, from the “Stormwatch” era, 1979, into his flute solo), and the indispensable “Nothing Is Easy”, whose bouncy rhythms surely warmed up even those sitting in the back rows. Then came a 20-minute break in the style of today’s gigs by their already seriously worn-out prog rock comrades Yes, which, for better or worse, seems to be becoming something new at Jethro Tull shows too. That break proves they no longer hide their age either, and increasingly need a short rest to recharge their batteries. Nothing in this world lasts forever.

After the break, during which Tull T-shirts and posters sold out like crazy, the show continued with “For A Thousand Mothers”, another antediluvian and “lost” song from “Stand Up”, Ian’s favorite Tull album, by the way. So there was no shortage of pleasant surprises in the second half of the show either. For the first time, I had the honor of hearing “With You There To Help Me” live, in a somewhat differently arranged and shortened version of the excellent song from their third album “Benefit” (1970), still incomprehensibly overlooked. It opened with “We Used To Know”, a shortened version of yet another “Stand Up” standard. One of the biggest clowning moments of the evening was the announcement and performance of the ancient drum classic “Dharma For One”, originally from the debut “This Was”, which was a mandatory part of their shows four decades ago, the moment when the drummer of the day (that is, Clive Bunker) took a breather with a long solo and briefly pulled the stage spotlight from Ian onto himself.

At this point Ian couldn’t resist (once again) taking a fond, teasing jab at the giant drummer Doane Perry, who in recent years has been taking over from Martin Barre as the main target of the jokes flying at the expense of the other band members. Before the number, Ian “forbade” him the expected moment for a drum solo, saying “that long drum solos are no longer in fashion these days” and that he’d rather replace the solo himself with some special pipe. By its shape it looked most like a Bosnian hookah of the kind they sell on Baščaršija. In reality, of course, it was a carefully prepared comedy bit. When Ian started (unsuccessfully) improvising on that shabby pipe, from which came broken, wheezy sounds, he put it aside with mock anger, scurried off the stage, and left the spotlights to Perry, who for a short while became the main “star” of the evening (which usually happens very rarely at a Tull show). The gray-haired drummer demonstrated a short but thrilling drum solo that for a moment recalled their ancient live shows, when nearly every member of the band had their own short solo spot (these days usually only Ian and Martin have one).

Next came the last surprise of the evening, a very good rendition of the folk rock classic “Heavy Horses” from the legendary album of the same name, which for me was without a doubt the highlight of the night. Here all the flaws of Ian’s worn-out vocals came out again. Martin’s guitar was tuned lower for the occasion, and Ian skipped the closing verses in favor of flute improvisation. O’Hara successfully replaced the parts where the original has a violin with special samples on the keyboards. Despite Ian’s vocal troubles, this performance of “heavy horses” was truly thrilling, and I hope that at their upcoming shows Tull will soon put more emphasis on their folk rock period too, which holds a ton of the best work of their career. The main set was slowly nearing its end, and it was time for all three indispensable Tull classics that no show of theirs can end without, even though I have no doubt Ian would sometimes love to swap them for something else.

The first of them was, as expected, the unforgettable prog rock epic burlesque “Thick As A Brick”, in a trimmed-down version this time too, of course. Despite Ian’s vocal troubles, this classic always comes out great, and so it did this time, with the inevitable little improvisations on flute, guitar and keyboards and a witty intro on xylophone played by bassist Goodier. The main set ended (also as expected) with his “vagabond excellency”, the hard rock standard “Aqualung”, whose punchy riffs warmed up even those who’d stayed quiet for most of the show. It was also lovely to watch the sudden burst of enthusiasm from the youngsters in the front row, who couldn’t sit still anymore and only “calmed” their energetic fervor at the stewards’ request. There were quite a few young faces that most people would expect at some alternative or metal gig rather than here, and they served as a successful refutation of the claim that only hunched, gray, thinning heads of middle to old age go to Jethro Tull concerts.

The only major disappointment of the show was the decidedly too short encore, in which the unbreakable prog grandpas gave us nothing other than their biggest hit, “Locomotive Breath”, and then, after a storm of ovations, marched off the stage in rather routine fashion. So the ending went along very predictable lines. Plenty of people were also bothered by the general routine feel of the show and the put-on smiles at the farewell, but that’s simply an unavoidable part of every professional band with 40 years of existence behind them, and Tull are no exception. Many forget that they’re one of very few bands in the history of rock music that has been on the music scene for four decades without any break. It also has to be taken into account that, because of our late arrival, the show felt noticeably shorter than usual. Setting aside the bitter aftertaste caused by our delay and the too-short encore (it wasn’t the first time we’d run into trouble seeing Tull in Italy; last year in Pordenone lightning struck the main cable and cut off the final part of the show), it was still an excellent concert, played, as it should be, at a high professional level and once again completely different from all their shows I’d seen up to then. The stage projections, which showed various scenes from their rich history (and pictures of former members) with every second number, stirred up a special nostalgia, while the calm setting of the venue itself, with its wide grassy areas, provided a very good atmosphere. So, adding it all up, I’d have been pretty sorry to miss the celebration of this wonderful band’s 40th anniversary entirely, a band that, even after the worst mishaps, simply can’t leave you in the lurch with its show.

Words: Jethro Tull