The first clue that last night's Jethro Tull concert wasn't your usual rock 'n' roll event came when the ubiquitous Bear DJ came on stage and was greeted not with cheers but with indifference.
Once the hapless radio man announced himself, a collective "feh" seemed to rise from the soldout Jubilee Auditorium audience. Poor guy. Based on bizarre melange of musical mysticism (or was it mystical musicianship?) that followed - a sort of pagan display of art rock - it's hard to believe Jethro Tull ever got played on the radio. This wasn't classic rock. This was classical rock, classical music for rock fans, in other words. Just one tune, sorry, "piece" the band played last night had actually made it to No. 1 - but it was on the classical crossover charts, "whatever the f--- those are," said satyr-like frontman Ian Anderson.
The crowd of 2,700 was a curious mix of young alternative types who weren't even born when Aqualung was released and older folks from the hippie generation who bought into Tull's esoteric English prog rock when it first came out in ... whoa, was it that long ago?
To give you an idea, the band opened with Song for Jeffrey, from 1968, and then lurched into the unmistakable riffs of Aqualung, from 1971. After the standing ovation that followed, Anderson said, "Let's shake off the cobwebs and do something more up to date. This is from 1972." The opening chords of Thick as a Brick drowned out the laughter. From subtle beginnings, the song soon became a rambling, bombastic rock opera that got even wilder when it segued into a more recent track (from 1995!), Dangerous Veils. The musicianship was top-notch, however, thanks to Tull veteran Martin Barre on guitar, Andrew Giddings on keyboards, Doane Perry on drums and Jonathan Noyce on bass. (Noyce, by the way, was born by the time Aqualung came out, though he was only six months old.)
Quite a lot weirder than the band's last trip out, Jethro Tull is a group that hardcore fans can safely refer to as "him" (don't try this with Pink Floyd), since Anderson is its heart. He was certainly entertaining. He emoted like Richard Burton doing Macbeth when he was singing, which, it must be said, is the band's weak link. His vocals were both out of tune and out of time (maybe his fancy earphone monitor wasn't working properly).
From addressing the crowd like a charming English gentleman, Anderson was comical when he was dancing, sometimes striking his classic "stork" pose, sometimes goofing around like George Carlin impersonating Ian Anderson. Most impressive was his flute work. I don't know how he'd stack up against a classical virtuoso, but any flautist who can compete for volume with an electric guitar and double fast lines on a synthesizer is a man to be reckoned with.
Overall, the show would've made a perfect soundtrack to an animated fantasy film made by Ralph Bakshi. You could almost see the dancing gnomes. Oh, wait, that was Anderson.
In this classic rock week, a comparison with Burton Cummings is in order. The Guess Who singer literally rested on his laurels at the Winspear on Monday night, playing nothing but his old hits with no variations. Jethro Tull, on the other hand, doesn't have many laurels to rest on, few actual "hits" that the mass public remembers. The band can therefore experiment with relative abandon. It helps that they have both the skill and passion to do it. The difference is often more bewildering than a mere classic rock rehash, but it's ultimately more gratifying. I can't wait to hear what twists Jethro Tull will put on his tunes when he comes back in 2001.
