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Rating:
So, before the EVIL (just kidding, he already said he wouldn't take it from me) Pibroch snatches this review too, I've decided to write it. The year is 1987; the decline of great bands like Deep Purple, Genesis et al. is confirmed, but not all the greats have fallen: Jethro Tull, as confirmed by this 'Crest Of A Knave', are still alive and kicking, even if not quite as inspired as in the past.
"Steel Monkey" is the first song and, to be honest, it's not very good, in fact, I'd even say it's bad: a kind of exhausted hard rock glazed with very annoying electronic keyboards, despite a good guitar impact. Well, as an opening, it's not looking good at all... but luckily we are rescued by "Farm On The Freeway", a song that can still be defined in '87 as progressive. An intro with keyboards providing a fantastic atmosphere, a decidedly non-trivial singing (sorry for the pun), and a nice instrumental section make this song one of the best tracks on the album. "Jump Start" and "She Said She Was A Dancer" are two typical Tull folk rock pieces, the former is nice, although not exceptional, while the latter turns out to be a rather clichéd and boring mood ballad (and in certain passages, sugary).
"Dogs In The Midwinter" leaves me perplexed; it's a fairly nice song, more than decent, somewhere between """"pop"""" and rock, absolutely coherent, but with something missing (could be the electronic drums, could be the rhythm that doesn't feel at all like Tull, perhaps a certain underlying compositional fatigue... who knows!). "Budapest" clears all doubts about the album: it's a stunning song, the masterpiece of the record, with its amazing riff that sticks in your mind forever, the solemnity, the very length of the song (10:07), the inherent sadness of the song, which, however, never even comes close to being sugary, the majestic progression of the instrumental... "Mountain Men" starts with crystalline atmospheres, then leads into the vocals, which turn out to be epic, after a shaky start, with absolute cohesion between voice and instruments. Perhaps the song is overused in its structure, but it is simply beautiful. "The Waking Edge", on the other hand, is a rather dull song, almost like a cookie commercial, on par with "She Said She Was A Dancer". Little or nothing to say. "Raising Steam" closes the album with a hard rock similar to "Steel Monkey", but manages to be at least decent or, at least, better developed.
So, what is 'Crest Of A Knave'? Simply an album. The Tull manage to condense in this album several well-developed good ideas and the slips in style are tolerable (we are in '87, after all), creating an album that may not be a masterpiece, but manages at least to stay afloat.
Fuck Scaruffi.
Tracklist Lyrics and Samples
01 Steel Monkey (03:39)
As the moon slips up, the sun slips down,
I'm a highrise jockey, and I'm heaven bound.
Do the woorkboot shuffle, loose brains from brawn.
I'm a monkey puzzle and the lid is on.
Can you guess my name? Can you guess my trade?
I'm going to catch you anyway.
You might be right. I'll give you guesses three.
Feel me climbing up your knee
Guess what I am. I'm a steel monkey.
Now some men hustle and some just think.
and some go running before you blink.
Some look up and some look down
from three hundred feet above the ground.
Can you guess my name? And can you guess my trade?
Well, I won't rest before the world is made.
Arm in arm the angels fly.
Keep me from falling out the sky.
Steel monkey. (x3)
I work in the thunder and i work in the rain.
I work at my drinking, and I feel no pain.
I work on women, if they want me to.
You can have me a climb all over you.
Now, have you guessed my name?
And have you guessed my trade?
I'm cheap at the money I get paid.
In the sulphur city, where men are men,
we bolt those beamsthen climb again.
Steel monkey
03 Jump Start (04:55)
In the dark of the city backwoods, something stirs then slips away.
Law and order in darkest Knightsbridge. Crime and punishment at play.
Hey, Mr. Policeman won't you come on over. Hook me up to the power lines
of your love.
Jump start, or tow me away.
And through the bruised machinery, the smoking haze of industry.
Another day with ball and chain. I do my time, then home again.
Hey, Mrs. Maggie won't you come on over. Hook me up to the power lines
of your love.
Jump start, or tow me away.
Well, should I blame the officers? Or maybe, I should blame the priest?
Or should I blame the poor foot soldier
who's left to make the most from least?
Hey, Jack Ripper won't you come on over. Hook me up to the power lines
of your love.
Jump start, or tow me away.
You can blame the newsman talking at you on the satellite T.V.
And if you're fighting for your shipyards, you might as well just blame the sea.
Hey, Mr. Weatherman come on over. Hook me up to the power lines
of your love.
Jump start, or tow me away.
05 Dogs in the Midwinter (04:37)
You ever had a day like I had today,
when things are stacked up bad?
You look around and every face you see
seems guaranteed to send you mad.
And you peer into those hallowed institutions.
And they bark at you from every side.
But the bite goes wide.
I see them running with their tails hanging low
like dogs in the midwinter.
The prophets and the wise men and the hard politicos
are all dogs in the midwinter.
Let the breath from the mountain still the pain,
clear water from the fountain run sweeter than the rain.
Dogs in the midwinter.
The boss man and the tax man and the moneylenders growl...
like dogs in the midwinter.
The weaker of the herd can feel their eyes and hear them howl
like dogs in the midwinter.
Though the fox and the rabbit are at peace,
cold doggies in the manger turn last suppers into feasts.
Dogs in the midwinter.
You ever had a day like i had today ---
dogs in the midwinter.
You look around and every face you see ---
dogs in the midwinter.
And you peer into those hallowed institutions.
And they bark at you from every side.
But the bite goes wide.
We're all running on a tightrope, wearing slippers in the snow...
we're all dogs in the midwinter.
The ice is ever thinner. Be careful how you go
like dogs in the midwinter.
And it's hard to find true equilibrium
when you're looking at each other down the muzzle of a gun.
Dogs in the midwinter.
06 Budapest (10:05)
I think she was a middle-distance runner...
(the translation wasn't clear).
Could be a budding stately hero.
International competition in a year.
She was a good enough reason for a party...
(well, you couldn't keep up on a hard track mile)
while she ran a perfect circle.
And she wore a perfect smile
in Budapest... hot night in Budapest.
We had to cozzy up in the old gymnasium...
dusting off the mandolins and checking on the gear.
She was helping out at the back-stage...
stopping hearts and chilling beer.
Yes, and her legs went on for ever.
Like staring up at infinity
through a wisp of cotton panty
along a skin of satin sea.
Hot night in Budapest.
You could cut the heat, peel it back with the wrong side of a knife.
Feel it blowing from the sidefills. Feel like you were playing for your life
(if not the money).
Hot night in Budapest.
She bent down to fill the ice box
and stuffed some more warm white wine in
like some weird unearthly vision
wearing only T-shirt, pants and skin.
You know, it rippled, just a hint of muscle.
But the boys and me were heading west
so we left her to the late crew
and a hot night in Budapest.
It was a hot night in Budapest.
She didn't speak much English language...
(she didn't speak much anyway).
She wouldn't make love, but she could make good sandwich
and she poured sweet wine before we played.
Hey, Budapest, cha, cha, cha. Let's watch her now.
I thought I saw her at the late night restaurant.
She would have sent blue shivers down the wall.
But she didn't grace our table.
In fact, she wasn't there at all.
Yes, and her legs went on forever.
Like staring up at infinity.
Her heart was spinning to the west-lands
and she didn't care to be
that night in Budapest.
Hot night in Budapest.
08 The Waking Edge (04:49)
As I wake up in a room somewhere...
dawn light not yet showing.
There's just a thin horizon between me and her...
the edge of a half-dream glowing.
Well, you know, I felt her in my dream last night.
Strange how the sheets are warm beside me.
Now, how do I catch the waking edge?
As it slips to the far and wide of me.
Didn't I try to hold it down?
Freeze on the picture, hang sharp on the sound.
Catch the waking edge
another time.
Familiar shadows in my hotel room
are still here for the taking.
They seem to linger on as the street lights fade
and the empty dawn is breaking.
Private movie showing in my head...
which button do I press for re-run?
And how do I catch the waking edge?
The edge of a dream about someone.
Well, you know, I felt her in my dream last night...
now the sheets are cold beside me.
09 Raising Steam (04:06)
Over high plains, through the snow...
roll those tracks out, don't you know
I'm raising steam.
Thin vein creeping; hot blood flow...
spill a little where the new towns grow.
I got my whole life hanging in a sack,
heading out into that wide world wide.
You got your locomotive sitting on your track
and I don't care which way I ride.
I may not be coming back.
Left a lady with a heart
all in pieces come apart
raising steam.
That engine up front must
have a heart big enough for the both of us.
Riding shotgun on the sunset, stare it in the eye,
rocking on my heels out to the west.
Funny how the whole world, historically,
feels the urge to chase the sun to rest.
We may not be coming back.
Let me be your engineer...
have you smiling ear to ear
raising steam.
And will you tell me how it feels
when you're up and rolling on your driving wheels?
I got my whole life hanging in a sack,
heading out into that wide world wide.
I'll be your locomotive blowing off its stack
and I don't care which way I ride.
I may not be coming back.
Raising steam.
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By v8interceptor
The band dismantled Metallica by being served a Grammy for Best Hard Rock Album of that year.
Crest Of a Knave is a decent album with good songs, sometimes liberatingly fun.
