So it is really no surprise that Jethro Tull visionary Ian Anderson, a student of all musical styles from baroque to Elizabethan folk, jazz to jingle, has concocted his own classical conceit, and although he may have more musical imperative than most to attempt this kind of schtick, he might nonetheless have been well-advised to leave well enough alone.

It is true, as he says in the liner notes, that Anderson approached the
performance of these Tull classics not with an eye to replicate all the orchestral rock projects that have flooded the market in the last decade or so, but more as a solo acoustic musician on flute and vocals, accompanied by a group of mostly other acoustic musicians. The classical contingent is part of the Frankfurt Neue Philharmonic Orchestra, conducted by John O'Hara, with James Duncan on drums, David Goodier on bass and glockenspiel, Florian Ophahle on acoustic and electric guitars and O'Hara on keyboards and accordion.

Jethro Tull and indeed nearly all of Ian Anderson's music held a remarkable maverick thrall over ‘70s rock; the flamingo-legged flautist, both socialist and snob, melded rock and classical in one integral form or another better than anyone, but this album is really treading over old ground, not chartering new. Some of the performances are indeed winsome and heartfelt, but others veer perilously close to Muzak or, worse, tedium.

The first annoying aspect, although it is indeed a live album, is Anderson’s blithe chitchat. He introduces pretty much every song, and the introductions are not really interesting or amusing. He’s always been a bit of a smartass, which is fine; he has the right, but talented musical genius that he is, the
smarmy commentary smacks more of snobbery than the social graces.

Musically, Anderson has always been capable of creating some wonderful textures in his songs, but somehow the added orchestration only serves to dilute that marvelous dynamism in lengthy discourses on such classics as “Aqualung” and “Locomotive Breath.”

If you want to hear Jethro Tull in all their glory, buy the first four albums, where many of the original versions of these songs reside; half of the Aqualung album is revisited here – quite honestly, to no good purpose.

For a lot of old Tull wonks, this might get them in their middle-aged noodles, if not their desiccating bones, but that’s only because they haven’t played the originals lately.

Sound
Hey, it sounds fine. Strong and crisp, the recordings are a true reflection of these concerts performed over the last three years. There’s a warmth and a room sound, with audience response on occasion that adds to a sense of intimacy, but by the same token, this only tends to amplify the revisionist sense of covering these tracks one more time, with strings no less, thereby losing the original passion in the play.