I Just Read About That…

SOUNDTRACK: JETHRO TULL-Aqualung (1971).

I loved Jethro Tull.  I have all of their records up until Crest of a Knave when I must guess I decided that they were uncool (as if they were ever cool).  But man are they ever cool and this book reminded me just how cool they are.

The whole record is solid from start to finish with string rockers, string riffs and then mellow folkie songs in between.  And the dynamic nature of Anderson;s voice–he could be five different characters.

How great is “Aqualung,” the song?  A terrific riff, a gentle middle section, a rocking section, some great bass lines all with some wild acoustic guitar and those lyrics–so graphic, so descriptive.  I am always taken with the drums–little thumps and a cymbal throughout the rocking verse.

It’s followed by the flute intro of “Cross-Eyed Mary.”  There’s rocking guitars and another complex riff with Anderson’s snarling vocals (echos on everything).  “Cheap Day Return” opens with a pretty classical-esque acoustic guitar intro and then Anderson’s more gentle vocals.  It’s a 90 second song that segues into the fairy tale melody of the flute for “Mother Goose.”  There’s some very nice harmonies on this song.

“Wond’ring Aloud” is all folk and the laughing that bounces around the headphones before the great riff of “Up to Me” on both guitar and piano.  And how neat that the lead guitar is circling around in one ear while the flute and vocals are down the middle of the song.

“My God” opens with a lengthy acoustic guitar display.  It’s quite pretty until the minor chords come in.  It’s followed by the piano and that distinctive voice.  Two minutes in, the guitar joins and the vocals get louder and more sneering.  There’s a terrific flute solo (complete with him giving a “yea” in the middle of it) and then a choral accompaniment that adds a whole new level of pious and impiety.

“Hymn 43” has a great heavy riff, chugging guitars and Anderson’s snarling lyrics (and so many whirling guitars solos and even a flute solo throughout).

It’s followed by the minute-long “Slipstream,” a pretty acoustic guitar song with gentle strings and more lyrics obliquely about god.  The song ends with some woozy up and down sliding on the strings which segue into the lengthy classical sounding piano intro of “Locomotive Breath.”

There’s a distant guitar solo under the piano before the guitars get louder and louder for the great chugging riff of the song.

The disc ends with “Wind Up,” a quiet intro on acoustic guitar and vocals that gets slowly louder;  and then the song rocks a swinging beat as he sings of excommunication and being packed off to school.  There’s a wild solo (different in each ear) in the middle of the song, which

and then the end where a jaunty piano accompanies these straightforward lyrics:

[READ: July 1, 2016] Aqualung

I have often thought I should read this series.  Of course, the last time I thought about it, there were 50-some books in the series and that seemed like way too many.  Well as of June 2017, there are 120 books in the series, which is an insane series to jump into.

But at work, four of the books came across my desk and if that’s not an invitation to read something, I don’t now what is.  So I’ve decided to read these four and we’ll see if that leads to more.

This was the third book in the series that I’d read.  The first (Colin Meloy’s) was a personal take on one of his favorite records, The Replacement’s Let It Be.  The second (Steve Matteo’s) was a detailed look at the recording sessions of The Beatles’ Let It Be.  This book is all about interpretation–Allan Moore’s take on an album that has fascinated him since his brother bought it over 30 years ago.  He is quick to point out that right and wrong interpretations of art are kinda impossible, but that won’t stop him.  Ian Anderson has written “What listeners get from the lyrics is theirs, what the lyrics are for me is mine.”

Moore breaks the book up into sections–the first situates the album at the time of its release, the rest looks at various songs (including bonus tracks on new releases).

When this album came out in 1971 society was not happy with itself.  Hendrix and Joplin had died, Crimson had released In the Court of the Crimson King,  Moore says that Aqualung was there to rebel against “whatever there was to rebel against, and yet not with the unfocused mindlessness of youth, but with the compassion that potentially recognizes each of us in those who do not have the wherewithal to rebel.”

The vinyl was presented as two distinct sides: Aqualung and My God.

Drop the needle on “Aqualung” and “that short little phrase is fierce.”  Listen to Martin Barre hacking the guitar: “strumming the strings rhythmically, but by lightly touching them with the left hand…so that it is only the percussive attack that is picked up.”

Moore gets a little musical on us: “The opening riff is in G-minor the switch 11 seconds in (“eyeing little girls”) is to D flat major, further away in musical terms you cannot get.”  This is known as a tritone.  Moor also dissects the lyrics: “just listen to the way the word ‘nose’ is squeezed out form the side of Anderson’s mouth–almost enacting the dripping of Aqualung’s snot.”

Then, there’s a third part.  He asks which is the verse, which is the chorus and then what’s this acoustic guitar gently strummed with his voice at a distance.

He goes into much greater detail than I’m willing to recount, but it’s all a great set up for the rest of the album.

He talks of “Cross Eye Mary” which people took to be part of a concept album–she is watched by Aqualung.  Although neither of them appear again, their presence is certainly felt.  He dissects this song musically and lyrically and even talks about others’ criticism (positive and negative) of the song.

He says “Cheap Day Return” is pure introspection, like it’s from Anderson himself and not “Jethro,” who is clearly singing the first songs.

I defy you to sing the melody of the song without the words to guide you.  It’s simply an embarrassment an intrusion of the real Jethro into an album that has so far distanced us from the intimate experience of the harshness of what has been described.  Up til this point we’ve been on the winning side, a side that has enabled us to jeer or to show compassion, but where we have had the choice to do so.  Here that choice is taken away.

Then its on to “Mother Goose” whom he encounters in a real setting.  There’s bongos and recorders.  He speaks of his identities–a school boy, a pirate, and he believes that if the schoolgirls knew who he was they would have shied away.  The bearded lady warns him against misbehaving.  No one is who they make themselves out to be in this song.  A chicken fancier is someone who pursues underage sex and his sister is weird for having a male job truck driver (hear the deep voiced mmm at 1 minute 40 seconds).

“Wond’ring Aloud” is in a comfortable domestic setting–smelling butter melting on toast.

“Up to Me” has a halting riff like the chorus “of Cross Eyed Mary,” doubled on flute, bass and acoustic guitar.  Moore looks at the wordplay of the title “Up to Me”and how each verse consists of three rhymes or near rhymes delivered at a speed that makes recognition of them inescapable even on a fairly cursory listening.  This song is an exercise in lyrical construction as much as story.

Side two has the four longest songs on it and Anderson has side he was having a go at people who misled him, like parents and schoolteachers and religious figures.  You can also see the way religion is mocked in the way the gatefold opens up to see the spoof of the Gospel written in fancy lettering.

We must take “My God” seriously as a song because of its complicated structure–no simple verse chorus verse.  It is also sarcastic bitter and hateful.  Moore dissects this song in great detail.  He even talks about he way the flute solo is schizophrenically multiplied at one point.

Whereas My God ha moments of reparation, relief and uncertainty (the acoustic introduction, the chanting interlude,) the ensuing song “Hymn 43” pulls no punches.  It’s got a powerful guitar melody and more hacking from Barre.

“Slipsteam” is a change of mood from the hard rock declamation to the lyrical.  He says the lyrics are deliberately oblique: God’s waiter hands you the bill.

Moore speaks of trainspotters at the introduction of “Locomotive Breath.”  There is of course symbolism for the meaning of trains in dreams and art.  This is all intro to the song driven by a riff that falls into two parts–a four note pattern followed by a bar of hacking–with a high harmonic audible.  Four characters appear to ride the train: the all-time loser, the all-time winner, Charlie and God but the “he” is ambiguous.  There’s some great analysis of the song in here, with much detail about the symbolism.

He loves the puns in “Wind Up” as well.  The song winds up the album, a wind up is a way of making fun of someone and of course the way it is stated in the song: “the kind of god you have to wind up on Sundays.”

It begins as confessional outburst “I didn’t mind, I left, I asked, you can excommunicate me….”

Listen to the tone he achieves on the pronoun I as the 4 beat bars returns (4 minute 55 seconds) the smile is evident in the voice which… almost indicates something like a long-suffering… oh well, have to continue anyway.

Moore talks about a CD reissue in 1988 which he describes as a lost opportunity to include great lost bonus tracks.  He also talks about various live versions of the songs and how they have changed the style of play.

He ends by asking if the music is any good and cites the popularity of the album even if the band is not popular.

If you like the album (which I do) this essay is really fascinating–great to read while you’re listening along so you can pick out all of the details that Moore mentions.