Jethro Tull: Minstrel In The Gallery - 1975

 

The orchestrated strings used in 1974's War Child had gone on this critically-praised offering, replaced by acoustic guitars and a string quartet, merged with chunky heavy guitars, harking back to the band's 1970-71 sound, using folky acoustic and rock electric ones, either together or varying between tracks. 

This album is very much half rock, half folk. The lyrics, as with all Anderson's writings, are typically obscure - "Indian restaurants that curry my brain..". There is some fantastic rock to be found on this album but, as with most of Tull's post-1971 output, it stands alone, culturally, not really like any of its contemporaries. Whatever, once again, I find myself really liking it.

Minstrel In the Gallery begins in slow acoustic guitar and vocal fashion, before breaking out into some superbly heavy riffage. The guitar and drums interplay at four minutes in is excellent, augmented perfectly by Ian Anderson's trademark flute. This is a fine example of strong Jethro Tull rock, showcasing their very uniqueness, one of their finest tracks, for me. It sounds far more 1970-71 than it does 1975, however. 

Cold Wind To Valhalla is another superb mix of folk and rock - flute, guitar and drums floating and pounding all over the place. Once again, it is really solid stuff that I can listen to over and over. 

Black Satin Dancer is a slow folky, sometimes Elton John-esque ballad, initially, although some big, bassy, thumping rock kicks in half way through - what a super guitar solo too. Instrumentally, this is superb fare. Jethro Tull really were quite underrated, weren't they? Never spoken about among the greats  - why not?

Now for two folky numbers, split by the old side one and side two. Requiem is a gentle, acoustic number that has Anderson sounding a little like David Bowie on his late sixties/early seventies acoustic material. The same that was said about Requiem can be said of the strangely-titled One White Duck/0^10+ Nothing At All. Both these veer strongly towards the folky side of Tull. 

We also get the album's only concession to the old prog days with the suite of several short songs that is the seventeen-minute Baker St. Muse. The first part is engagingly melodious and Ian Anderson sounds like Neil Diamond on occasions and thereafter we continue in a largely rocky vein, the suite is Tull's best extended composition since Part One of Thick as A Brick, for me. It really is a tour de force, a triumph on a most unique album. 

A short piece of ambience in Grace ends proceedings. 

Beneath the album's rock veneer, there were those strong folky influences coming to the surface once more, something that would continue.