Ian Anderson non sembra più lui. Il 1984 è un anno tragico, perché esce 'Under Wraps'. Il carismatico leader dei Jethro Tull, dopo aver prodotto l’ottimo "Broadsword and the beast", compie forse il primo passo falso della sua carriera (che non è "A Passion Play", come molti ingiustamente sostengono, mannaggia!).
"Under Wraps" è il disco peggiore dei Jethro Tull: freddo, troppo tecnologico, poco acustico, poco melodico e soprattutto carente di quel flauto che ha reso grande la band. Molte sono le cose che colpiscono: il co-writing con il tastierista Peter-John Wettese e Barre (che firma per la prima volta un paio di tracce, quale triste esordio!), la batteria quasi tutta elettronica (triste esordio anche per il grandioso batterista Doane Perry!), un sound ben lontano da 'Aqualung', 'Stand Up' o 'Thick As A Brick', fatto di sintetizzatori, campionatori e altre diavolerie elettroniche.
Persino il logo della band cambia (ma questo è carino, dai, ve lo concedo!). Vettese, che già aveva dato un assaggio delle sue doti in 'Walk into light' di Ian Anderson, è il primo ed unico membro dei Jethro Tull di origine italiana e non riesce a tenere alto l’onore di una nazione creativa come la nostra. Non lo discuto come tastierista, ma come compositore.
Ma molti fan, soprattutto i più sfegatati, non smettono comunque di sostenerli: 'Under Wraps' arriva al numero 18 (!) della classifica inglese, mentre gli americani saranno meno clementi, con un misero numero 76. Già dalla grigia copertina si può intravedere il grigiore dei brani. Later that same evening, Radio free Moskow, Paparazzi, Nobody’s Car, Apogee e Astronomy sono pezzi orrendi che si fa fatica ad ascoltare fino in fondo.
Ẻ ufficiale: la canzone più orripilante che i Jethro abbiano mai scritto è General Crossing, un pezzo inutile, che non comunica niente, a parte forse i suoni fastidiosi. Meno peggio risultano forse Automotive Engeneering, Under Wraps # 1, il riff di Saboteur, Heat (con un intro di flauto che promette bene) e l’aggressiva Tundra. Lap of Luxury fu concepita come canzone commerciale e quindi lanciata ottimisticamente come singolo (numero 70 nelle charts). Non sarebbe neanche malaccio come canzone. Ne esiste anche un videoclip, disponibile nella versione rimasterizzata del Cd.
Ma c’è anche un altro lato del disco: una nicchia di vecchi Jethro come piacciono a me e difatti la si trova negli unici due pezzi firmati esclusivamente da Anderson. European Legacy è un pezzo esaltante con un bel cantato, il ritorno della chitarra acustica e un intermezzo di flauto (seguito però dai synth). La perla acustica degna di essere incorniciata assieme a pezzi come Wondering Aloud e Only Solitarie é Under Wraps # 2. Bellissima.
Ma due pezzi non servono a salvare un album a mio giudizio piatto come una sogliola. La produzione di quest’album durerà nove mesi, al termine del quale persino il fedele Martin Barre confesserà di essersi stancato. L’unico ad essere però veramente scontento dell’album sarà il bassista Dave Pegg, non a caso l’anima folk del gruppo durante gli anni ’80.
Si dice che in quest’ album Ian Anderson abbia sbagliato completamente le tonalità dei cantati (ascoltare Under Wraps # 1 per credere), troppo diversi dal suo modo abituale di cantare. Non a caso si prenderà un anno di pausa, per poi ritornare (o forse dovrei dire rinascere) nell’86 con un disco di classici riproposto con l’orchestra e poi nel 1987 con l’ottimo 'Crest of a Knave'. Ma la voce di Ian non sarà più la stessa ed è anche per questo forse che odio questo album.
Paradossalmente, alla fine di questo mastodontico lavoro, Ian Anderson, Martin Barre, Dave Pegg e il batterista Gerry Conway, si ritroveranno a scrivere con David (oggi Dee, sigh!) Palmer la canzone che diviene poi colonna sonora della serie di documentari “The Blood of the British”: l’epica, folkloristica, magniloquente Coronach.
Ma questa è tutta un’altra musica.
Elenco tracce e testi
01 Lap of Luxury (03:36)
The money won't last forever ---
rent man called twice today.
I hope some day you'll find me
in the lap of luxury.
Searched for a new apartment
but they don't grow on trees.
Just want to lay my head
in the lap of luxury.
Stepped out on a new horizon ---
felt a new spring in my feet.
Found a job, it could set me up
dangling in the lap of luxury.
And the gaffer is a man of substance ---
drives a jag and takes high tea.
Lives beyond the industrial wasteland,
laughing in the lap of luxury.
I need money, now, to soothe my heart!
Buy me a Datsun or Toyota ---
get the tax man to agree
all expenses I can muster
from the lap of luxury.
03 European Legacy (03:22)
She smiles at me
from beyond the eastern sea-shore.
Flashing jewelled eyes,
she hoists her skirts so high.
Nouvelle cuisine or an oyster bar ---
it's really up to her.
I'll write every cheque she brings to me.
I shoot on sight ---
it's my European legacy.
Round the castle walls ---
about the Highlands and the Islands
the faint reminders stand.
A visitor who took a hand
a thousand years ago, or so ---
stranded high and dry by tides ---
washed up a new identity.
The channel's wide ---
but it's their European legacy.
I strain my eyes
against the southern light advancing.
On whiter cliffs I'm high.
The sea birds roll and tumble as they fly.
I hear distant mainland music echo
in my island ears.
My feet begin to move instinctively
to the warmer beat of my European legacy.
She smiles at me
from beyond the eastern sea-shore.
Flashing jewelled eyes,
she hoists her skirts so high.
Nouvelle cuisine or an oyster bar ---
it's really up to her.
I'll write every cheque she brings to me.
She shoots on sight ---
it's her European legacy.
05 Saboteur (03:32)
In and out of shady places ---
walking on cold corners of the maze.
Following the trace you leave unwittingly.
I wanna be no Saboteur.
Oh, no, me no Saboteur.
Painted ducks across your landscape ---
happy in your domesticity (it don't come free).
Misfortune, like a Sparrow Hawk, hangs over you.
Wanna be no Saboteur.
No, no, me no Saboteur.
Deepest regrets I humbly offer you
as I cut into your life.
With clean precision, all is simplified ---
pass the hat and pass the knife.
By now you must be worried, wondering
who is me and what lies behind my art.
I'm only removing broken sea-shells from the beach ---
oh, no, me no Saboteur.
There's at least one of me inside your ranks
in your factory or school.
I anticipate a cleansing opportunity
to take the horns by the bull.
History forever writing
pages to be cut or painted grey,
or celebrated like Jesus in his
temple rage
as he chased the money-men away.
I wanna be no Saboteur.
Be no, be no Saboteur.
07 Astronomy (03:38)
The middle lane has trapped my car in red-light claustrophobia. I slip the shackles, cut the rope --- stand naked with a telescope as the cat walks alone under a big sky. Against the dark so thin and white --- gonna be a big sky night. Miss Galileo, come with me and view the new Astronomy. Black hole dressing on salad plate --- quasar at the kissing gate. Now the cat, he walks alone under a big sky. Umbrella dome pin-pricked in lights --- gonna be a big sky night. My spectacles, my white lab coat --- my coffee, thermos and my notes. I pat my pockets. I got the keys to the secrets of the observatory. And closing the door, I feel a new dawn as the darker slides align --- you to yours and me to mine. And now you stand, assisting me --- I can touch what I can see, see, see. I look in wonder, I feel no shame --- see the consequences of the game. Expand the universe. Head for the Big Bang. Reach for my switch and shout --- gonna turn the big sky out. There's got to be astronomy. Astronomy.
08 Tundra (03:41)
Short Arctic desert day ---
and someone left their snow-shoes in the tundra.
Look around every which way
but I can't see just where the footprints go.
Is it a casual disappearance? ---
Plucked from the middle atmosphere
like straw wind-blown.
No speck on the horizon ---
no simple message scrawled
upon the snow.
Unearthly visitation ---
someone left their snow-shoes in the tundra.
Hungry buzzard flier
circling round and round
rattling death's tambourine.
Have to run it down the cold wire ---
late insertion in tomorrow's lost and found.
Should I spread out searching?
But I'm a little thin upon the ground.
So I raise my lips to coax
the last drop of brandy from the bottle.
Rest my feet and contemplate
the mystery that's haunting
this Siberian space.
Show-shoes they bind me down ---
I'm just one more parasite of the surface layer.
I begin to get the feeling
I've been on this stage before
and I'm the only player.
One more Arctic desert day ---
another set of shoes out in the tundra snow.
I make my fade to white-out
and you can't see me where my footprints go.
09 Nobody's Car (04:08)
Black Volga following me ---
Nobody's car.
Mr. No-one at the wheel of
Nobody's car.
Wet pavements, thin apartments ---
quiet dissent from darkened doorways.
I want out alive.
Speak up for me if you can.
So, careful how you drive
in tourist city.
Slap in front of my hotel ---
it's Nobody's car.
Is that my limousine?
No, it's Nobody's car.
Are you on routine assignment?
Plastic shades on black-browed eye-hole.
I read this book before.
I even saw the film.
How did the ending go?
(Intourist city.)
Black out.
It's a weird scenario.
I've seen a thousand times before
but only on my video.
Feel my steps quick in the headlights
of Nobody's car.
Down cobbled alley with no exit from
Nobody's car.
Doors slam, two figures silhouette ---
somewhere before, I feel we've met.
Can't tell you any more.
I agreed to go along with all they asked of me.
Intourist city.
I drive Nobody's car.
10 Heat (05:37)
When the rats are running
and the boys are gunning
for heads on a tin plate ---
you can hear the footfall
softly in the back yard.
And the black jack is called
face up on the last card.
You'd better call your witness
in your dirty business.
Trop tard sera le cri.
Better run while you can ---
better set the tall sail.
Better make deep cover
before the boys have you nailed.
There's just one chance to get away ---
I'll catch up with you another day.
I'll close my eyes and count to ten
and come right after you again.
Grab your credit cards ---
cash in on your resources.
Take your passport from the drawer,
don't stop to change the horses.
Get out of the heat.
Now can you feel the pressure?
Have you got the measure
of being a wanted man?
Cold drink in your hand ---
hot sweat on your brow.
And there's no understanding
going to help you now.
Grab your credit cards ---
cash in on your resources.
Take your passport from the drawer,
don't stop to change the horses.
Notify all parties
of an earlier vacation.
No use trying to board the train
after it's left the station.
Get out of the heat.
11 Under Wraps #2 (02:14)
Keep it quiet. (go slow.)
Circulate. need to know.
Stamp the date upon your file ---
Masquerade, but well worth while.
Wrapped in the warmth of you ---
Wrapped up in your smile.
Wrapped in the folds of your attention.
Wear an air --- (keep mum)
Of casual indifference.
Careful how you go
About your usual business.
Wrapped in daydreams of you ---
Wrapped up by your eyes.
Wrapped in the folds of your attention.
Under wraps! i've got you under wraps.
Tell you when --- (not yet)
Soon the great unveiling.
Bless my boots! upon my soul!
Secrecy, it is my failing.
Wrapped in your summer night ---
Wrapped in your autumn leaves.
Wrapped in the winter of your sleeping.
12 Paparazzi (03:47)
Paparazzi, can't make the man.
Paparazzi, can't break the man.
Next to the transit lounge
see the Paparazzi tears.
No-one came in today
from Boston or Tangiers.
And in departures ---
only faceless trippers trip,
loaded with duty free
held in white knuckle grip.
Snap it up, flash away ---
steal a camel for a day.
Break the story in heavy type ---
the news is running late tonight.
Be-decked with Nikon necklaces
hear the Paparazzi cries.
Under their noses walk
the famous in disguise.
Conspicuously huddled there
but no-one stops to look.
They've got their crayons out
to colour in the book.
Snap it up, flash away ---
steal a camel for a day.
Break the story in heavy type ---
Paparazzi won't be home tonight.
Paparazzi --- write it down.
Paparazzi --- turn it around.
Paparazzi --- take it, fake it,
break it.
`Cos it's a story.
Now someone's cut the lines
communication's down.
All photo film is fogged.
Celebrities surround
and jab their fingers at me.
They kiss but I can't tell.
Even poor Paparazzi
must have privacy as well.
Snap it up, flash away ---
steal a camel for a day.
Break the story in heavy type ---
the news is running late tonight.
Snap it up, flash away ---
steal a camel for a day.
Break the story in heavy type ---
Paparazzi won't be home tonight.
13 Apogee (05:29)
Sailing round the true-blue sphere---
is it too late to bale out of here?
Well, there has to be some better way
to turn back the night,
spin on to yesterday.
The old man and his crew---
after all these years,
it's apogee.
Pilot training and remorse---
spirit friends fly too,
at apogee.
Apogee --- solar bright.
Apogee --- through the night.
Apogee --- overground.
Don't think I'll be coming down.
Screened for a stable mate
with nerves of ice we flew,
at apogee.
No creativity allowed
to pass through stainless veins of steel,
at apogee.
Apogee --- put the kettle on.
Tight-lipped --- soldier on.
High point --- communicate.
Don't forget to urinate.
So glad they put this window in.
How to explain, how to begin?
See! Tennyson and Wordsworth there
waiting for me in the cold, thin air.
Beware a host of unearthly daffodils
drifting golden, turned up loud.
Tell the boys back home,
I'm gonna get some.
The Wrong Stuff's loose in here ---
I'm climbing up the walls,
at apogee.
So hoist the skull and bones ---
death and glory's free,
at apogee.
A stranger wind, a solar breeze ---
I'm walking out upon the starry seas.
See pyramids, see standing stones ---
pink cotton undies and blue telephones.
Goodbye, cruel world that was my home ---
there's a cleaner space out there to roam.
Put my feet up on the moons of Mars ---
sit back, relax and count the stars.
14 Automotive Engineering (04:05)
In the hands of science ---
the complete appliance.
We're moved to motor.
Do you fly a Spitfire?
Do you slide on a tea-tray?
Or walk on a short trip (Sundays).
Or drive come what may (enjoy).
Automotive science and engineering.
When big was better ---
and fast was chic,
the oil was cheaper ---
now we're up the creek.
But the Japs are coming
and everyone's turbo'd
and carbon fibre
is the way to go, go.
Down at the robot factory
things are humming.
New radical suspension ---
no humans testing.
(Wind it up, wind it up.)
Take a trip
in your Freudian slip.
Doctor Ferdinand (Ferdie)
has you in his grip.
Carico i commenti... con calma
Altre recensioni
Di v8interceptor
Quello che forse non sapevano era la reazione dei fan ma anche della critica.
L’ultimo progetto della band, da Crest of a Knave in poi la band non aggiungerà nulla diventando una cover band di se stessa.
