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Rating: I'm standing in line in front of the Sheperd's Bush, I'm 17, my friend is 18, we look around... we are probably the only ones under 40: all "oldies" nostalgic who couldn't wait for Ian and company to decide to take a trip back in time and, by playing their entire "Aqualung" and a handful of classics, bring them back on the puff of the locomotive, the locomotive that can't slow down.
The place is kind of a baroque theater, or whatever it is, I'm not so knowledgeable, but it definitely makes an impression, a great setting for a concert of this kind. Sold out, of course. The atmosphere is very warm, yes, it really feels like being in the Seventies, or at least that's how I imagine concerts of bands like this were in that period, intellectual climate, widespread joy, the singer entertaining the crowd during intervals between songs, almost niche environment (I mean niche more for the atmosphere than for the number of people present). It's a true Seventies revival.
The start is entrusted to the acoustics and Ian's voice in “Life Is A Long Song,” alone on stage, then all the rest of the instrumentation joins in, in a gradual crescendo like on the album. “It’s an honor to open for Jethro Tull,” he jokes at the end of the song; “this was from '71, now let’s move on to something new and fresh… from 1974…” and “Skating Away” starts, which honestly doesn’t thrill me much even in the original, perhaps because of that annoying and heavy accordion. Anyway, it’s clear from the start that Ian is in great shape, and throughout the evening he lives up to expectations: he never spares his playful irony, through anecdotes and jokes, and also, which is the fundamental thing, he plays, dances, mimes, sings, manhandles his flute in all sorts of ways, both following the original scores and improvising with exceptional solos... Okay, you might say, everyone knows he's a wizard with the flute, but I just want to emphasize how highly impressed I am by his skill and charisma live, me seeing him here for the first time.
However, sometimes, maybe due to an excess of theatricality or desire to vary pieces he must have played millions of times, there's a tendency to emphasize words and accentuate the theatrical tone in the singing, resulting in some verses being slower and less impactful than if they were sung more briskly. So I'd say: flute a 9 and voice a 7-. The same consideration applies to Martin Barre, the guitarist (by the way, the only one along with Ian from the '71 lineup), who, for example, in the solo of Aqualung changes a few notes and improvises, while in my opinion it would have been better to play it exactly like the original, leaving it in its immortal perfection.
The first part of the concert favors slow, classical-leaning songs, so after a few songs, a guest star joins, a certain Lucia Micarelli, an American violinist Ian wanted to bring along after the recent “orchestral” tour. The girl, besides making a great “visual” impression, shows excellent technical skills but mostly interpretative; it seems indeed that instead of a violin she plays an electric guitar, for the amount of violence and anger she puts into each note, especially in a Violin Concerto by Sibelius played solo. Violin-rock could define her style. Then applause-worthy is the performance of the duo “Cheap Day Return”-“Mother Goose” with the band, halfway between classical and folk, and the duet with Anderson’s flute in “Griminelli’s Lament,” a two-voice composition by an Italian flutist (whom Ian then teases by telling some love misfortunes), a very “lamenting,” indeed, and melancholic melody.
The first part of the concert thus closes with a classic, the “Bourée” borrowed from Bach, featuring another masterful performance by Anderson, more and more frenzied, and increasingly “one” with his flute. Small negative note: the bassist doesn’t perform the entire central bass solo, only the first part... what a pity... the usual mania of changing things for the sake of it? (Or maybe the bassist is too young and doesn’t know how to play it?)
The highlight of the show, however, is in my opinion the second, more electric part. It opens with two excellent covers, “Bohemian Rhapsody” by Queen (in which fortunately Anderson doesn’t make the mistake of trying to imitate Mercury’s voice, leaving the singing part to the violin instead) and “Kashmir” by Led Zeppelin, both powerful enough to heat up the atmosphere.
Here then is the impetuosity of “Cross-eyed Mary” and “Hymn 43,” the guitar virtuosos of “Morris Minus,” an instrumental penned by Barre dedicated to his cat, but above all, a spectacular and adrenaline-pumping rendition of “My God,” probably the best of the whole concert, worth the ticket price alone. Perfect. From the acoustic, anticipation-filled beginning to the entrance of the electric guitar, up to the legendary dialogue between Barre and Ian’s flute, the emotional peak of the show, continuing through Ian’s even more frenzied solo surrounded by “Gregorian” voices (performed on the keyboard), then ending in the electric discharge of the guitar and the sweet closure once again entrusted to the now calm and pleasant flute.
Next is “Budapest,” definitely better than the version on disc, epic and melancholic, with an additional crescendo closing, ending in the noise of all the instrumentation... The heat is through the roof, the atmosphere is filled with excitement, applause, and whistles of approval resonate throughout the hall... But the acclamations aren’t over yet when the riff of “Aqualung” starts... At this point, the frenzy erupts, I feel chills all over my body, Ian’s angry voice and pulsating riff convey an overflowing energy, it almost feels like I can no longer hold myself in this ephemeral body, such is the emotional power of the music...
But unfortunately, everything has to end...
But not before the encore... After returning backstage, the pianist comes out and plays the first notes of “Wind up,” followed by everyone else. Excellent performance. Still energy. I'm about to explode... Not long left. In fact, the explosion comes with the next song... The moment I’ve been waiting for the whole concert, and which perhaps many others have been eagerly waiting for. I won't even say the title of the piece... The jazzy piano intro, a splendid duel between piano and guitar, endlessly lengthened with improvisations by the various instruments, Anderson directing the last closing notes like a possessed orchestra conductor. Two seconds of silence. The drummer marks the time with sticks and... Go! We’re off... One of the most impressive attacks in music history, pure musical orgasm... I'm completely out of my mind now, I'm transcending the corporeality of the place to board the puffing locomotive... on the train that will never stop... In no way... No way to slow down!
The only other thing I feel like saying is thanks to Ian, thank you for granting such a show to us who couldn't follow you in the '70s, thank you for letting us live emotions from a past era in another time... But on the other hand, are certain works limited by the tight temporal constraint? Don't they remain there, forever, indestructible?
PS: On May 8th they’ll be in Florence, on the 9th in Rome, on the 10th in Milan... Don’t miss them!
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