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Rating: Yes...this is a controversial album, the true transitional album of the band, from here on the band will give up something.
Jeff Hammond, co-responsible for the irreverent streak and the various jokey antics with which he, together with Anderson, kept the audience smiling,
amicably leaves to freely pursue his first love, painting.
The 24-year-old John Glascock arrives from Carmen, who needs time to learn the pieces, time that Anderson uses to create a theatrical work...
New songs, therefore, with an orchestral flavor, for this he relies on David Palmer...today Mrs. Desy and Jethro Tull incognito from the first album.
It's pointless to beat around the bush, but this album lacks the rock soul of the rest of the group...just like with WAR CHILD, even this time the funds run out, and the songs are inserted into the new album of the band...
Beware, I believe that part of this album is responsible for Anderson's vocal decline, divided into two parts, presenting rhythm'n' blues songs along with others with a new Glam, Glitter flavor.
From a Dead Beat to an Old Greaser, the title track, but also The Chequered Flag (this one, yes, a good song), present very low parts combined with a new singing style for Anderson... It's a painfully pop record, by the time the rest of the band could have had a hand in it, it was already too late, however, it's worth a listen.
The progressive becomes increasingly lukewarm, but Anderson himself insists on considering the album as a record and not a biography, since by then the proggers were considered cumbersome and punk was about to emerge...
What to say... Jethro Tull here glosses the sound... Martin Barre, delightful guitarist, has not a single riff here, John Evan blissfully on vacation approaches the acoustic piano, both will build their sound with flanger Chorus, the string quartet of previous albums turns into a real orchestra, while bassist John Glascock uses a Precision Bass unlike Hammond who at least in the studio preferred the Jazz...An album without instrumental interludes that offers very few memorable cues, (Crazed Institution, at least) the rest shows how the work did not even excite Anderson much because perhaps no longer being the theatrical work he had in mind it turns into a patched-up record.
In the charts, it flies low even in America and opens up to the band's continuous quest that will momentarily resurface (even in the charts) with Songs From The Wood.
It will not be a coincidence that in 1976, only 23 concerts were realized, with all that actually needed to be done even the sessions don't generate much movement, 2 unpublished tracks at least Strip Cartoon, which isn't better than the album and the excellent Commercial Traveller, this one, a great song.
At the end of 2000, David Palmer, through an infiltration in a garage, will manage to recover a sheet containing the chords and part of the lyrics of another piece titled Six o'clock,
a piece that Anderson claims not to remember, so never recorded and surely never tried... a few words also on the production, the album seems recorded with the left hand, the sound is not powerful, overall little conviction on all fronts, little success live for this album, as far as I know on the tour only the title track (mystery on how Anderson made it one of the most important pieces of the discography) and Crazed Institution featured with RHODES piano and not acoustic piano... Definitely an inferior record to listen to just to escape the band's classic routine. Nothing more.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
01 Quizz Kid (05:11)
Cut along the dotted line --- slip in and seal the flap.
Postal competition crazy, though you wear the dunce's cap. W
in a fortnight in Ibiza --- line up for the big hand out.
You'll never know unless you try --- what winning's all about --- be a quizz kid.
Be a whizz kid.
Six days later there's a rush telegram Drop everything and telephone this number if you can.
It's a free trip down to London for a weekend of high life.
They'll wine you; dine you; undermine you --- better not bring the wife --- be a quizz kid.
Be a whizz kid.
It's a try out for a quizz show that millions watch each week.
Following the fate and fortunes of contestants as they speak.
Answerable to everyone; responsible to all; publicity dissected ---
brain cells splattered on the walls of encyclopaedic knowledge.
May be barbaric but it's fun. As the clock ticks away a lifetime,
hold your head up to the gun of a million cathode ray tubes aimed at your tiny skull.
May you find sweet inspiration --- may your memory not be dull. May you rise to dizzy success.
May your wit be quick and strong. May you constantly amaze us.
May your answers not be wrong. May your head be on your shoulders.
May your tongue be in your cheek. And most of all we pray that you may come back next week!
Be a quizz kid.
Be a whizz kid.
02 Crazed Institution (04:46)
Just a little touch of make-up, just a little touch of bull,
Just a little 3-chord trick embedded in your platform soul.
You can wear a gold Piaget on your Semaphore wrist,
You can dance the old adage with a dapper new twist.
And you can ring a crown of roses round your cranium,
Live and die upon your cross of platinum.
Join the crazed institution of the stars.
Be the man that you think you really are.
Crawl inside your major triad, curl up and laugh
As your agent scores another front page photograph.
Is it them or is it you throwing dice inside the loo
Awaiting someone else to pull the chain?
Well grab the old bog-handle, hold your breath, and light a candle;
Clear your throat, and pray for rain to irrigate the corridors that echo in your brain
Filled with empty nothingness, empty hunger pains.
And you can ring a crown of roses round your cranium,
Live and die upon your cross of platinum.
Join the crazed institution of the stars.
Be the man that you know you really are.
03 Salamander (02:52)
Salamander --- born in the sun-kissed flame.
Who was it lit your candle --- branded you with your name?
I see you walking by my window in your Kensington haze.
Salamander, burn for me and I'll burn for you.
04 Taxi Grab (03:58)
Shake a leg, it's the big rush, can't find a taxi can't find a bus.
Bodies jammed in the underground evacuating London town.
Nowhere to put your feet as the big store shoppers and the pavements meet.
Red lights --- pin stripes --- short step shuffle into the night.
Tea time calls --- the Bingo Halls open at seven in the old front stalls.
How about a Taxi Grab.
There's an empty cab by the taxi stand driver's in the café washing his hands.
Big diesel idles --- the keys inside --- c'mon Sally let's take a ride.
Flag down --- uptown --- no sweat. For rush hour travel, it's the best bet yet.
Taxi Grab.
09 Pied Piper (04:35)
Now if you think Ray blew it, there was nothing to it. They patched him up as good as new. You can see him every day --- riding down the queen's highway, handing out his small cigars to the kids from school. And all the little girls with their bleached blond curls clump up on their platform soles. And they say ``Hey Ray --- let's ride away downtown where we can roll some alley bowls.'' And Ray grins from ear to here, and whispers... So follow me. Trail along. my leather jacket's buttoned up. And my four-stroke song will pick you up when your last class ends; and you can tell all your friends: The Pied Piper pulled you, The mad biker fooled you, I'll do what you want to: If you ride with me on a Friday anything goes. So follow me, hold on tight. My school girl fancy's flowing in free flight. I've a tenner in my skin tight jeans. You can touch it if your hands are clean. The Pied Piper pulled you, the mad biker folled you, I'll do what you want to: If you ride with me on a Friday anything goes.
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