• Voto:
Nel 1987 i Jethro Tull avevano pubblicato ciò che, probabilmente, rimane il loro capolavoro degli '80: un disco solido, con ottime canzoni come "Budapest" o "Farm On The Freeway", che amo definire come "l'ultimo della quaterna elettronica" (A, The Broadsword And The Beast, Under Wraps e il suddetto Crest Of A Knave).
Già in 'Crest', effettivamente, l'elettronica andava ad assumere uno spazio minore rispetto ai precedenti dischi (basti dire che l'unica batteria elettrica si trovava in "Dogs In The Midwinter"), preludendo ad un ritorno ad un sound più classico; ed è questo, infatti, che è 'Rock Island'. Già il ritorno a sonorità più classiche si nota nelle prime due canzoni, i due buoni hard rock "Kissing Willie" e "The Rattlesnake Trail" (nella seconda è Anderson a suonare la batteria), che possono vantare una buona base musicale ed una voce che torna ad evocare i tempi d'oro. Poi v'è un po' di emulazione del disco precedente, rappresentata da "Ears Of Tin", che tende a riprendere le atmosfere serenamente epiche di "Mountain Men", sebbene con livelli inferiori. Non potevano nemmeno mancare le consuete canzoni di durata superiore ai 5 minuti e, quindi, eccoci arrivare la title track e "The Waler's Dues", canzoni piuttosto solenni e tendenti allo hard rock, ma di risultati differenti: la prima, infatti, riesce abbastanza bene, con atmosfere rarefatte ma non fastidiose, una linea melodica ed una progressione non male, mentre la seconda risulta fin troppo monotona.
Ci sono, poi, anche canzoni appena sufficienti, quale è "Heavy Water", hard rock che si porta dietro alcuni degli ultimi strascichi di elettronica, mentre il capolavoro dell'album è, a mio alquanto modesto parere, "Strange Avenues", un semi strumentale piuttosto evocativo, che riporta veramente la memoria ai tempi d'oro assieme alla seconda canzone per bellezza, "Big Riff And Mando". Purtroppo, in quest'album troviamo anche due indegne cadute: "Another Christmas Song", lentone d'atmosfera con alcune buone intuizioni, ma troppo stucchevole per i miei gusti, sebbene piacevole da ascoltare, e "Undressed To Kill", probabilmente la peggiore canzone dell'album, un altro hard rock ripetitivo e stanco.
Dunque, alla fine, 'Rock Island' si rivela un disco piacevole, inferiore magari al predecessore, ma per niente brutto, con il ritorno, finalmente (ma era nell'aria dell'epoca, grazie al grunge), a sonorità non elettroniche. Un consiglio? Fatevelo prestare (comprarlo è un po' troppo!).
Elenco tracce testi e samples
01 Kissing Willie (03:32)
Breaking hearts in a market town. She eats filet of sole
and washes it down with sparkling wine.
Nice girl, but a bad girl's better. Qualifies in both ways
to my mind. But now she's kissing Willie.
She shows a leg --- shows it damn well. Knows how to drive a man
right back to being a child.
Well, she's a --- nice girl, but her bad girl's better. I can read
it in her cheating eyes and know that in a while --- Well,
she'll be kissing Willie. (My best friend, Willie.)
Willie stands and Willie falls. Willie bangs his head
behind grey factory walls.
She's a --- nice girl, but her bad girl's better. Me and Willie
just can't help come, when she calls.
Now she's kissing Willie. (My best friend, Willie.)
02 The Rattlesnake Trail (04:01)
Got a hair shirt round my shoulder. Got a cold stew in my spoon.
And I'm falling on my head, lifting feet of lead ---
now it's got me baying at the moon.
Well, there's a race on for tomorrow. I'm stretching out
for what might have been.
Going to come out from the night, got my second sight ---
play rough --- you know what I mean.
I'm going for the kill. I'm going tooth and nail
up that dusty hill --- on the rattlesnake trail.
Got the law laid down to the left of me. Got the real world to the right.
Heading up through the middle with my cat and my fiddle ---
yeah, looking for a fight.
Going to ride hard in bandit country --- on the blind side of the bend.
Keep my nose to the wind while the rabbit's skinned ---
bed down at the journey's end. (Be a rattlesnake.)
I'm going for the kill. I'm going tooth and nail
up that dusty hill --- on the rattlesnake trail.
The rattlesnake trail.
I'm going on the rattlesnake trail.
Going to be with wolves in winter --- run in angry packs by day.
But when you give a dog a bone, he has to be alone ---
growl, keep the other dogs away.
See that thin moon on the mountain. See that cold star in the sky.
Going to bring them down --- shake them to the ground ---
put that apple in the pie. (Be a rattlesnake.)
I'm going for the kill. I'm going tooth and nail
up that dusty hill --- on the rattlesnake trail.
03 Ears of Tin (04:55)
In the late hours of a sunset rendezvous ---
chill breeze against tide, that carries me from you.
Got a job in a southern city --- got some lead-free in my tank.
Now I must whisper goodbye --- I'm bound for the mainland.
Island in the city, Cut by a cold sea.
People moving on an ocean. Groundswell of humanity.
Now the sum breaks through rain as I climb Glen Shiel
on the trail of those old cattlemen who drove their bargain south again.
And in the eyes of those five sisters of Kintail
there's a wink of seduction from the mainland.
Island in the city. Cut by a cold sea.
People moving on an ocean. Groundswell of humanity.
Storm-lashed on the high-rise --- their words are spray to the wind.
Blown like silent laughter. Falling on ears of tin.
Take my heart and take my brawn.
Take by stealth or take by storm ---
set my brain to cruise.
I can see the glow of the suburb lights.
I'm fresh from the out-world ---
singing the mainland blues.
There was a girl where I came from.
Seems a long time, long time gone by.
Wears the west wind in her hair.
She calls from the hill --- yeah, she calls
in my mainland blues.
There's a coast road that winds to heaven's door
where a fat ferry floats on muted diesel roar.
And there's a light on the hillside --- and there's a flame in her
eyes, but how cold the lights burn on the mainland.
Island in the city. Cut by a cold sea.
People moving on an ocean. Groundswell of humanity.
Storm-lashed on the high-rise --- their words are spray to the wind.
Blown like silent laughter. Falling on ears of tin
in my mainland blues.
04 Undressed to Kill (05:24)
Working on the late shift --- first drink of the day.
Pull a chair up to the table, have to look the other way.
What kind of place am I in? And who's this over here?
Shaking through the silver bubbles climbing through my beer.
Won't let it move me, but I can't sit still.
Could you meet the eyes of a working girl
undressed to kill?
Staring through the smoke haze --- plaid shirts in the night.
Well, I'm making sure that everything is zipped up tight.
Who's that jumping on the table? Putting tonic in my gin?
Brushing silken dollars on her cold white skin.
Won't let it move me, but I can't sit still.
Could you meet the eyes of a working girl
undressed to kill?
She could have been sweet seventeen. There again, well, so could I.
There was a tear drop sparkle on the inside of her thigh.
Going to fetch myself a cold beer. I've got to get a grip.
Find some place to touch down. Find a landing strip.
Won't let it move me, but I can't sit still.
Can you meet the eyes of a working girl
all undressed to kill?
Last one out is a cold duck. Padding down the road.
I wait outside, my motor running --- got a warm dream to unload.
Can I face her in the sunshine? In he harsh real light of day?
She walks out with recognition in her eyes --- I look away.
Won't let it move me, but I can't sit still.
Couldn't meet the eyes of a working girl
undressed to kill.
08 The Whaler's Dues (07:52)
Money speaks. Soft hearts lose. The truth only whispers.
It's the whaler's dues.
I've been running on diesel. Been running on coal.
Running on borrowed time, if truth's to be told.
Two whales in the ocean, cruising the night
search for each other before we turn out their light.
Been accused of deep murder on the North Atlantic swell
but I have three hungry children and a young wife as well.
And behind stand generations of hard hunting men
who raised a glass to the living, and went killing again.
Are you with me?
Money speaks, soft hearts lose. The truth only whispers.
Now pay the whaler's dues.
Can you forgive me?
Now I'm old and I sit land-locked in a back-country jail
to reflect on all of my sins and the death of the whale.
Send me back down the ages. Put me to sea once again
when the oceans were full --- yes, and men would be men.
Can you forgive me?
09 Big Riff and Mando (05:58)
Marty loved the sound of the stolen mandolin.
Somebody took it on a dare in the night-time.
Run up to the radio, calling out to the wind.
Now, bring it, bring it back at least an hour before flight time.
It was a souvenir, but it was a right arm missing.
Swap a woodwork rhythm for a humbucking top line.
Big Riff, rough boy, wants to be a singer in a band.
A little slow in the brain box, but he had a quick right hand.
Run left, run right --- everywhere he look ---
nobody watching, no, but that was
all he took last night.
Running on the power of a stolen mandolin.
Steal a little inspiration. Steal a little muscle.
Will he wake in the morning, wondering --- was it really worth it?
So make a little deal, Yeah, make a little hustle.
Ringing on the radio --- got a proposition for those English boys.
I'll make the sing-song --- you can make the background noise.
One, two, three, four --- one bar and in.
Give you back the mando, if you'll let this singer sing tonight.
Marty loved the sound of the stolen mandolin.
Big Riff took it on a dare in the night-time.
Now it's four o'clock, and we're waiting at the sound-check.
Looking for a face staring in from the sunshine.
We got two strong lawmen from the sheriff's office.
They're going to lift Big Riff before he plays the first line.
Big Riff, rough boy, wants to be a singer in a band.
Yeah, help him on the stage now, put that microphone in his hand.
Think hard, think right --- nothing in his mind ---
So Riff did a runner, but he left the mandolin behind.
10 Strange Avenues (04:09)
Strange avenues where you lose all sense of direction
and everywhere is Main Street in the winter sun.
The wino sleeps --- cold coat lined with he money section.
Looking like a a record cover from 1971.
And here am I --- warm feet and a limo waiting.
Shall I make us both feel good? And would a dollar do?
But in your streets, I have no credit rating
and it might not take a lot to be alone just like you.
Heading up and out now, from your rock island.
Really good to have had you here with me.
And somewhere in the crowd I think I hear a young girl whisper
``Are you ever lonely, just like me?''
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