Published on Jul 26, 2004
After three albums with their roots firmly planted in folk, Ian
Anderson had branched out to a more electronic sound on
A, the disc which was supposed to be his solo debut but
ended up being the next Jethro Tull record. I swear, I must be the
only person on the face of the earth who liked this record.
Anderson had to have thought that a synthesizer-driven sound was
the next route to go.
Broadsword And The Beast, the 1982 release from Jethro Tull,
mostly eschewed the folk sound the group had recently been known
for and featured, thanks to Peter-John Vettesse, a sound more
reliant on synthesizers than guitar. This, it turned out, was a bad
move, and Jethro Tull had created their worst disc since the
abominable
A Passion Play.
Granted, the fault isn’t totally with the reliance on
synthesizers — that would become a problem on
Under Wraps, but that was one album away. Yes, this overall
sound for Tull made it seem like the band was wildly flaying around
for a sound (never mind the fact that synthesizer-driven rock was
all the rage for the first half of the ’80s). Instead, the problem
was with songwriting. Most of the tracks on this disc sound like
ideas which were only partially through their development phases,
only to be committed to tape before they could be finished.
This, it turns out, is the tragic flaw of
Broadsword And The Beast. Sure, the chanting of the song
title on “Beastie” makes it sound ridiculous, but songs like this
one, “Flying Colours,” “Fallen On Hard Times” and “Slow Marching
Band” all sound like they’re just not complete. (A better version
of “Fallen On Hard Times” can be found on the box set
20 Years Of Jethro Tull.) Had Anderson spent some more time
fleshing out these tracks, the quality of
Broadsword And The Beast would have increased
significantly.
Alas, we’re left with what we have. And while Jethro Tull tries
to recapture some of their past glory on tracks like “Pussy
Willow,” “Broadsword” and “Seal Driver,” that magic is nowhere to
be found.
It wasn’t that Jethro Tull wasn’t ready for the world of
electronic rock; they had shown they were capable of merging the
worlds of keyboards and electric guitars on A rather well. It’s
just that, after a two-year gap between albums (the longest Tull
had gone to that point between discs), they just sounded very
tired. Indeed, even for underdeveloped tracks, the bulk of
Broadsword And The Beast sounds like the band is going
through the motions. It would have been better to have worked out
all of the kinks with this incarnation of the band and polished up
the songs, then released an album that would have been many levels
above what we have now. (I will admit, though, not all the fans
would still have been pleased — the thrills of the fickle finger
of fate. But at least you couldn’t have blamed Anderson for
trying.)
Broadsword And The Beast is an album whose edge is
incredibly dulled, and whose music shows no fire in the belly. In
short, it just doesn’t cut it.