On Aggression

IT'S HARD TO believe that an established rock personality would let himself be harrowed by a wave of bad reviews. After the critics unanimously panned Jethro Tull's Passion Play, the band's leader Ian Anderson threw up his hands in disgust and disbanded one of rock's most illustrious combos. The percentage of the record-buying public influenced by reviews, though, is so insignificant that Anderson's self-mortification was astounding.

There is something to be said in defense, however, of Anderson's reaction to his loss of face in the critic's circle. Although he viewed his disparagement as unwarranted, it was actually the logical end to a series of overworked and monotonous albums which beat such dead horses as religious hypocrisy and dollar-chasing. Passion Play, a banal declaration of the existence of good and evil in the world, was only the straw that broke the critics' back. Not being able to satisfy the critics, Anderson decided to satisfy himself instead. And now, eight months later. Anderson has left his "retirement" with a recognition that aggression is man's most predominant drive. His deliberations on this subject were set to music, forming the nucleus of Jethro Tull's latest album, War Child.

Anderson thinks that aggression is not necessarily an evil force and can ultimately be used for self-betterment. Since aggression is a part of man's lot, at least for the foreseeable future, it might as well be accepted with some degree of good cheer. The title cut kicks things off with air-raid sirens sounding, bombs exploding, and machine guns firing mixed over a breakfast conversation between husband and wife. Anderson on alto sax joins pianist John Evan to lend a madrigal-like impression to the opening few measures. The tune progresses as it deals with war's romantic side, a romanticism evoked musically by the coupling of a flowing melody (played by the strings) and a series of ascending and descending runs (banged out an Evan's piano).

"Queen and Country" is a tale of the adventurous life a sailor encounters during the sack and pillage of enemy nations. Eventually the sailor tires of the women and treasures exotic lands can offer and reappraises his own self worth and allegiance to his country.

They build schools and they build factories

With the spoils of battles won

And we remain their pretty sailor boys--

Hold our heads up to the gun

Of Queen and Country in the long dying day

And it's been this way for five long years

Since we signed our souls away.

This tune reflects the stylistic homogeneity of Benefit, the album which established the band's musical identity.

"Ladies" is a heart-felt ballad of fallen women whose flute and guitar lines immediately call to mind "Sossity: You're a Woman," the final song of the Benefit sessions. The chorus is also reminiscent of the Sossity refrain and is polyphonically mixed to give a dreamy portrayal of the ladies' allure. The tune closes with an upbeat rhythm phrase bolstered by the orchestra's solid horn section.

"Back Door Angels" is a well-arranged piece featuring the impressive electric guitar work of Martin Barre interspersed with melodious embellishments like harp glissandos and synthesizer frivolities. While Barre's guitar predominates throughout, it is especially interesting during his solo, which contains three strains, each of which ends with a rather long hold and then gives way to a variation on the preceding strain. The effect is a dynamic one in that just as one expects the composition to end, it returns, invigorated.

THE FIRST SIDE closes with a statement of what an entertainer has to do to please his audience. The idea of "topping the last performance" becomes so taxing to the performer's imagination that in the end he is left to the mercy of the crowd. Anderson's retort to the critics is made obvious by his allusions to Passion Play, while the carnival-like refrains imply the capriciousness of a crowd that determines the musician's fate.

"Bungle in the Jungle," the album's single, represents human nature by personifications of the animal kingdom, much like Simon and Garfunkel's "At the Zoo." Here Anderson's reflections on aggression are most plainly presented:

I'll write on your tombstone, "I thank you for dinner."

This game that we animals play is a winner.

Towards the end of the song, Anderson can't resist mentioning the chaotic state of the world and the pleasure of the king, who day after day, flips the switch as play is resumed. The track is well constructed, beginning with flute, guitar and sundry animal growlings hinting at a safari into the darkest depths of Africa. The beat is promptly established allowing the glass-like quality of Barre's guitar to cut through the string section's forceful countermelody.

In "The Third Hoorah," Anderson rejoices in his Scottish heritage. Employing every instrument from baritone to synthesizer, this is the catchiest melody on the record. He even enlists the help of a couple of bagpipe players (found, he says, outside the entrance of a London department store honking merrily away) which give the air of a Scottish reel to the piece.

"Two Fingers" concludes the album much in the way "Wind-Up" did on Aqualung. By and large, it's a pretty pessimistic conclusion, portraying us well as Aqualungs on the final day of judgement. "Two Fingers" is musically very similar to "Wind-Up" although greater emphasis is placed on its up-tempo portions.

Despite Ian Anderson's new stand toward's the critics in general, he seems to have take to heart some of their objections. War Child is divided into a series of ten songs instead of being one continuous composition. And, reflecting critical influence even more strongly, its musical foundations are taken directly from the Benefit album--Tull's most critically-acclaimed work. War Child, then, is not only musically enjoyable, but gives credence to the concept of constructive criticism as well.