Author: Peter Podbrežnik
Artist: Jethro Tull
Label: EMI Records
Release: 1984
Rating: 1/5
Sometimes even the greatest masters seriously drop the ball and turn out a half-baked product that, even after the test of time, still doesn’t make them proud and sounds like the fruit of their worst nightmare or a byproduct of a badly digested dinner. That’s exactly what happened to the mischievous Celtic jesters Jethro Tull with the album “Under Wraps”, where they wanted to sound modern at all costs and hop on the then-current new wave/synth pop trends, which undoubtedly brought in nice chunks of cash for all those bands from the era when creative music was still made without the dictates of labels that had sold their original musical soul to publishing logic (something Jethro Tull, mind you, always loved to criticize). On that account, under the pretext of “let’s experiment with something new again”, they completely neglected and almost entirely tossed out nearly all of their traditional prog folk rock elements, which came from somewhere on the forest edge of the Scottish Highlands, and gave themselves over to cold robotization in the form of an electronic synthetic sound, delivered by the then still innovative technology of digital synthesizers and an artificial rhythm, which together sounded like the racket of a robotic machine shop in the mid-80s, where metalworkers hammer iron and, in the director’s artificially chilled office, historical relics like the Spectrum or Commodore 64 hum non-stop. The seeds of this were already hinted at on the predecessor “The Broadsword And The Beast” (1982), which still sounded decent enough and, next to this electronic monster, was practically a Tull classic. “Under Wraps”, meanwhile, is a near-cliché product of its time that, thanks to its artificial and monotonous synthetic sound, sounds pretty dated today. The few rare good moments when the traditional Tull elements briefly come alive quickly get lost in a flood of electronics and plastic rhythm.
The prime “culprit” for why it’s so hard for me to say anything nice about this album is none other than the “pater familias” himself, Ian Anderson, who wanted to play around with the then still fresh technology of sophisticated synthesizers, which is on one hand perfectly understandable, but on the other completely at odds with plain common sense, considering that his folky flute and vocals are almost totally incompatible with new wave electronic sounds. We’d already heard what came of that combination on his first solo album “Walk Into Light” (1983), a real mishmash of electronic minimalism and traditional folk rock elements. “Under Wraps” follows this recipe shamelessly, despite the disastrous reception of Ian’s first solo outing even back then. The full-breathing, dynamic and massive drums of Gerry Conway (and all his predecessors) were replaced by the contrived, unnatural sound of a drum machine, which is completely monotonous and is the main reason the album never manages to take a breath, not to mention the synthetic minimalism of “professor” Peter-John Vettese on the Fender Rhodes, who also looked more like Harry Potter than a Jethro Tull keyboardist. Luckily, whenever Ian wanders into tasteless ideas, good old Martin Barre is right there beside him, and with his hard rock passages and a few clever riffs on guitar he saves the album from sinking completely and makes it possible to listen from start to finish without nodding off in between. Dave Pegg’s bass, on the other hand, is barely recognizable because the drum machine almost totally smothers it. If they’d found a proper drummer instead, someone who could give the album at least a slightly more alive sound, it would surely have earned noticeably more points. Even Ian’s vocals don’t sound the way I’m used to, since they lack his usual sharpness and sarcasm, and on top of that they’re often smothered by synthetic sounds and extra, frequently unnecessary, backing vocals. Jethro Tull tried in vain to wrap up the lack of creative ideas and the total sellout of their sound in the then-fashionable cold war lyrical themes like spying, sabotage, conspiracies, the space race, Radio Free Moscow and the growing materialism of the Western world under Reagan’s patronage. But our bearded James Bond came off badly in this department too. That’s why most of the songs sound unconvincing and almost forced. The album never really breathes, and on top of everything, it’s accompanied nearly the whole time by a dead-cold atmosphere, like something out of an artificially chilled Japanese robot factory.
It’s hard to say anything especially praiseworthy about the individual tracks, since there’s practically not a single standout moment on the album. It’s dominated mostly by shorter, new wave and pop-leaning songs, smothered by a robotically calculating rhythm and completely synthetic keyboards that even Tony Banks (Genesis) would throw his hands up at, and which let neither the flute nor the guitar breathe. The few very rare flashes of inspiration, usually coming from the band’s two main wizards, are a reminder that a band cut from entirely different cloth once existed. What most of the songs will be like is already signaled by “Lap Of Luxury”, built as synthetic new wave/pop rock with strong lines of digital synthesizers, a monotonous rhythm and Ian’s deliberately pompous way of singing. Despite the melodic chorus, it never takes a breath, because the synths completely smother it. Far more interesting is its cheeky promo video, which can also be found as a bonus on the current reissue. The title-track AOR experiment “Under Wraps” has good potential (which really shows in its acoustic version) in Ian’s fine performance on flute and vocals, but the electronics and drum machine eventually fester all over it. The result is a synthetic puke, one that neither Ian’s flute nor Martin’s barely audible guitar work can save. “European Legacy” is almost a good piece and one of the better moments on the album, as it starts with a promising acoustic intro on flute and acoustic guitar, with some ethnic elements too (which they’d start using more and more in the future), until synths begin muscling their way into the acoustics in an obnoxious way, though luckily they don’t ruin the basic melody. “Later That Same Evening”, on the other hand, is a full-on synthetic horror show with a string of silly robotic electronic sounds that are more reminiscent of Ian guesting with Depeche Mode than of Jethro Tull. “Saboteur” is built on a concrete hard rock riff and a sharp flute, propped up by plastic rhythm and synth. Barre throws in a solid solo along the way. Sadly it’s a far too monotonous piece, a vivid demonstration of how the artificial rhythm poisons the entire album. “Radio Free Moscow”, which carries some cold war nostalgia, is the most successful attempt at a decent new wave/pop tune, almost in the style of Japan, especially thanks to the (rarely heard on this album) good, balanced interplay between guitar and synths and a nice melodic chorus. Of course, it’s far from any decent Tull standard. The hanging out with the digital sounds of prehistoric video games continues on the dismal “Astronomy”, where even Depeche Mode fans will laugh at the bizarre cohabitation of Ian’s antique vocals and the electronic minimalism of a refrigerator factory. “Tundra” wants to sound dramatic and scary at all costs, but it’s really one of the most boring moments on the album, one that not even the occasional witty flute sounds can pull out of the caustic mud. “Nobody’s Car” tries to shake up the sleepy atmosphere with spy lyrics, electronic sounds and sharpened guitar and flute passages, but ends up as one of the least inspired moments of their career. “Heat” doesn’t promise anything good just from the title. And it really is one of the lowest points of their career, a synthetic party for dancing robots, where Ian’s vocals are packed with intrusive electronic implants while they bop along to a plastic rhythm. Vettese’s solo on the Fender Rhodes sounds downright grotesque, and not even Barre’s brief reply can soften it. It’s probably no surprise that the best moment on the album is the short acoustic ballad “Under Wraps 2”, which offers an answer to how the album could have sounded if Ian hadn’t surrendered completely to his electronic toys. “Paparazzi” wouldn’t deserve a comment at all if it didn’t have a good riff and mocking lyrics aimed at the tabloid press. Otherwise it’s a thoroughly synthetic catastrophe with a totally indigestible rhythm and a dismal chorus. Overall, the final tracks on the album are real “gems” when it comes to total creative exhaustion and a complete sellout of the band’s legacy. The utterly empty “Apogee” is also a very strong candidate for the worst piece of their career. Ian and his gang, trapped in cybernetic armor, murder us here with synthetic pathos radiated by minimalist sounds and a revoltingly monotonous “Lego brick” rhythm. “Automative Engineering”, especially through its lyrics about a robot factory, is the best proof, almost a self-parody, of the album’s completely empty mood and sonic image. If Ian wanted to create the stressful atmosphere of a Japanese robot factory, where executives kill themselves every year over any possible failure to climb the social ladder, he at least totally nailed that. And the cold war kitsch cesspit is crowned by the closing new wave killer “General Crossing”, where, with Ian’s vocals as the only recognizable element, we witness the final nail in the coffin of everything good Jethro Tull did for the development of rock music.
Even today, “Under Wraps” remains by far the lowest point of a band that made an incredible string of excellent albums in the 70s, ones that still rank among the very top of creative rock, only to fall into total creative atrophy in the mid-80s. An album whose lack of creativity, energy and imagination, headed by the complete murder of the original Celtic spirit and a hookup to matrix implants, shows what a deep creative crisis most other progressive bands found themselves in back then too. Then again, few of them broke so violently with their legacy as Jethro Tull did. If “Under Wraps” had come out as Depeche Mode with special guest Ian Anderson, it would probably have been one of the most bizarrely entertaining experiments of its time. Except for the most fervent new wave devotees who’d like to hear this “entertaining” experiment with an “old fart” in the lead role, and the band’s biggest fans, I recommend everyone else steer clear of “Under Wraps” by the widest possible margin. It doesn’t help to forget you’re listening to Jethro Tull. Ian simply blew it, and even today he admits he’d love to record it again with a real drummer. Luckily, he found one soon after the album came out in the American Doane “Big-Boy” Perry, who still delights us with his skills today. Ian, thank God, after the 1985 tour, when he nearly lost his voice and it never sounded the same again, also decided to return to hard/folk rock roots. The end result was one of the most successful, but also funniest and most absurd “comebacks” in the story of (progressive) rock.
Lineup
Ian Anderson – vocals, flute, acoustic guitar
Martin Barre – electric guitar
Dave Pegg – bass guitar
Peter-John Vettese – keyboards
Production
Ian Anderson
Track list
1. Lap Of Luxury (3:36)
2. Under Wraps #1 (4:03)
3. European Legacy (3:23)
4. Later, That Same Evening (3:53)
5. Saboteur (3:32)
6. Radio Free Moscow (3:42)
7. Astronomy (3:37)
8. Tundra (3:39)
9. Nobody’s Car (4:09)
10. Heat (5:37)
11. Under Wraps #2 (2:15)
12. Paparazzi (3:48)
13. Apogee (5:29)
14. Automotive Engineering (4:05)
15. General Crossing (4:02)
Album length: 58:50
