Jethro Tull
Under Wraps

THE REVIEW

Ian Anderson no longer seems like himself. 1984 is a tragic year because 'Under Wraps' is released. The charismatic leader of Jethro Tull, after having produced the excellent "Broadsword and the Beast," perhaps makes the first misstep of his career (which is not "A Passion Play," as many unjustly claim, damn it!).

"Under Wraps" is Jethro Tull's worst album: cold, too technological, not acoustic enough, not melodic enough, and especially lacking the flute that made the band famous. Many things stand out: the co-writing with keyboardist Peter-John Vettese and Barre (who signs a couple of tracks for the first time, what a sad debut!), the almost entirely electronic drumming (a sad debut also for the great drummer Doane Perry!), a sound far removed from 'Aqualung,' 'Stand Up,' or 'Thick As A Brick,' made up of synthesizers, samplers, and other electronic gimmicks.
Even the band's logo changes (but this is nice, come on, I'll give you that!). Vettese, who had already shown his skills in Ian Anderson's 'Walk into Light,' is the first and only member of Jethro Tull of Italian origin and fails to uphold the honor of such a creative nation as ours. I don't dispute him as a keyboardist, but as a composer.

But many fans, especially the die-hard ones, still continue to support them: 'Under Wraps' reaches number 18 (!) in the UK charts, while the Americans are less lenient, with a meager number 76. Already from the gray cover, you can glimpse the dullness of the tracks. Later that Same Evening, Radio Free Moscow, Paparazzi, Nobody’s Car, Apogee and Astronomy are dreadful pieces that are hard to listen to all the way through.
It's official: the most horrendous song Jethro has ever written is General Crossing, a pointless piece that communicates nothing, except perhaps annoying sounds. Slightly better are perhaps Automotive Engineering, Under Wraps #1, the riff of Saboteur, Heat (with a flute intro that promises well) and the aggressive Tundra. Lap of Luxury was conceived as a commercial song and thus optimistically launched as a single (number 70 in the charts). It wouldn't even be a bad song. There's also a music video available in the remastered version of the CD.

But there's also another side to the album: a niche of old Jethro as I like it, and indeed it's found in the only two pieces exclusively signed by Anderson. European Legacy is an exciting piece with a beautiful vocal, the return of the acoustic guitar, and a flute interlude (followed, however, by synths). The acoustic gem worthy of being framed alongside pieces like Wondering Aloud and Only Solitaire is Under Wraps #2. Beautiful.
But two pieces aren't enough to save an album that, in my opinion, is as flat as a sole. The production of this album lasts nine months, at the end of which even the faithful Martin Barre will confess to having grown tired. The only one truly unhappy with the album, however, will be bassist Dave Pegg, unsurprisingly the folk soul of the group during the '80s.

It's said that in this album Ian Anderson completely got the tones of the songs wrong (listen to Under Wraps #1 to believe it), too different from his usual way of singing. Unsurprisingly, he will take a year's break before returning (or perhaps I should say being reborn) in '86 with an album of classics presented with the orchestra and then in 1987 with the excellent 'Crest of a Knave.' But Ian's voice will never be the same again, and maybe that's also why I hate this album.
Paradoxically, at the end of this massive work, Ian Anderson, Martin Barre, Dave Pegg, and drummer Gerry Conway will find themselves writing with David (now Dee, sigh!) Palmer the song that becomes the soundtrack for the documentary series "The Blood of the British": the epic, folkloristic, magniloquent Coronach.

But that's a whole different music.