Prog pied piper

>> Jethro Tull’s Ian Anderson reflects on
Zappa, the Stones, Johnny Rotten and
the nasty pricks of journalism

by CHRIS BARRY

It’s just so tempting to make fun of Jethro Tull. In fact, it’s so easy that I will refrain from doing so. Besides, despite producing a couple of remarkably pretentious records over the years-listen to A Passion Play sometime-by and large Jethro Tull have always been a class act. Not to be dismissed as yet another opportunistic “classic rock” band looking to pick up a few extra bucks on the nostalgia circuit, Ian Anderson and Jethro Tull have consistently been making records since 1968, selling somewhere close to 60 million of ’em in the process. The Mirror spoke to Anderson, the pied piper of prog, over the phone from L.A. earlier this week.

Mirror: Is the title of your new record, Living With the Past, meant to be profound or just a nifty little wordplay referencing Tull’s 1972 Living in the Past album?
Ian Anderson: No, it’s just a play on words. Because one of the few questions that I get asked a lot-particularly by European journalists-along with, “Hey, is Jethro Tull too old to rock and roll?” is “Tell me, what’s it like to be living in the past?” You know, it’s one of those smart questions that’s meant to provoke and unsettle the poor interviewee. I kind of gently yawn and give them the standard answer which has been, “Well, I’m not living in the past because that’s nostalgia; living with the past is a healthy appreciation of your own track record, your own history, which is a kind of benchmark for what you do in the future.” I’m not really one for memorabilia or nostalgia.

M: A lot of nasty pricks go into music journalism, as I’m sure you know.
IA: That’s what journalists are supposed to be. If I were a journalist, I’d be one mean son of a bitch. God, I’d be out for blood if I could get Elton John or Rod Stewart or Michael Jackson on the other end of the line.

Folkies on flutes

M: Do you ever look at stuff you did like “The Story of the Hare Who Lost Its Spectacles” and think, “Oh my, I was certainly an ambitious and earnest young man back then?”
IA: Well yes, I guess I have. Some of the music that we did back then was complex, adventurous and sometimes a little obtuse. But there’s a lot of fun in there too. I think that’s probably the thing that strikes me most about the music we produced in that period, the sense of fun and kind of revelling in musical ideas that, for us, were very new. Albeit some scholarly musical gent might have said, “Oh yes, I know what they’re doing there, they’re just politely imitating Beethoven or Miles Davis.” I can hear lots of influences, some that are perhaps a little too overt.

M: Yeah, where?
IA: I can hear it in my contemporary English folk singer voice and in certain guitar phrases that I played. Probably the only thing where I feel I’m out on my own is as a flute player, because there really wasn’t anybody to copy at the time. The nearest point of reference that I had as a flute player was Eric Clapton, because I took my flute and used it in a way that was more reminiscent of guitar and soloing riffs.

M: Did it hurt your feelings in the late ’70s when all the punk bands were citing Jethro Tull as the antithesis of rock ’n’ roll? Like, hey, why me?
IA: It didn’t upset me particularly when Johnny Rotten lumped Jethro Tull together with a bunch of other things that he despised at the time. In recent years I’ve heard he says “Aqualung” is one of his all time favourite records, so who knows? It upset me more in the early ’70s when Frank Zappa said he didn’t like us. I was quite a fan of Zappa’s music, I admired and revered him as a contemporary, and yeah, having him turn around and suddenly slap us down obviously hurt a little bit.

It made it that much more difficult a few years ago when I got a message from his son saying that Frank, who was terminally ill at the time, would really like me to call him and left me his home phone number. I sat and looked at this number, I even dialed it a few times and hung up, because I just didn’t know what you would say to a dying man, especially one who was on record as not liking my work. But I wanted to speak to him, I just found it really difficult. Then I heard on the news one day that he’d died. I felt a profound sense of loss and deep regret that I had never made that call. I would have liked to have spoken to him, just for a minute.

Classic rock clowns

M: Do you have fond memories of participating in the Stones Rock and Roll Circus TV show back in the late ’60s?
IA: I have memories, I wouldn’t say they’re very fond. You know, working in this rather camp scenario that Mick Jagger and his director had built up-this kind of a circus tent atmosphere with clowns and various things-was all faintly embarrassing. I mean, the rest of the Stones weren’t really into it. It was a bit like, “Mick wants to do this so we better go along with it,” that’s the impression they gave. And poor old Brian Jones was, by that stage, not in good shape. He was very charming, very nice, I spoke to him, but he was clearly no longer really part of the band in the functioning sense. They pretty well just ignored him. He was just kind of there, propped up in a corner strumming the guitar when he was able, which was not a lot of the time. That had an impact on all the Stones. There was definitely a sadness and a very awkward sense of there being something not right with them. So no, it wasn’t a joyous occasion. It was a rather strange and uncomfortable self-conscious gathering of people trying to make a program which, for 30 years, never got seen.

M: So pretty well everyone recognized that the Rock and Roll Circus was kind of goofy except Sir Mick?
IA: I think so, yeah. Jagger had a huge amount of energy and commitment. During rehearsals, he was really pushing the other guys on and creating a lot of dynamic energy, which, by the time we got to the final taping, was almost overdone. Maybe he tried too hard in rehearsals and lost his voice a bit by the final taping. Whereas the Who just kind of bowled in and did their thing, off the wall, rough and ready. It was said at the time that the Who had stolen the show and that’s why the Stones didn’t want to put this thing out. But I think it was more out of embarrassment, guilt and respect-probably in that order-that they felt for the then recently departed Brian Jones. He died pretty soon after that. :

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