38. Jethro Tull – Thick as a Brick
Thick as Brick earns a coveted place on the Mellotron Sounds 50 Albums List not because it’s so important musically (even though it is) or because I love it (even though I do), but more because of what it represents.
A near-45 minute epic, all one singular track, the arrangement transitions often, from acoustic elements to electric, organs to flutes, guitars to xylophones, putting to tape one of the most committed concept albums ever recorded—one, we’d only find out later, is actually a satire.
Straight from the horse’s mouth (the horse is Tull frontman Ian Anderson):
“Thick as a Brick was written as a spoof, as a send-up of a concept album. The record preceding it, Aqualung, had been viewed by some critics as a concept album, which I disagreed with…. So I said, “OK, let’s give them the mother of all concept albums.” An integral part of that was to pretend the lyrics had been written by an eight-year-old boy, a preposterous, sort of precocious child who came up with these convoluted and vague-sounding lyrics all set to a continuous flow of music. It was a lot of fun to do. I wasn’t trying to deceive people. I just thought everybody would get the gag.”
So that explains the lyrics*. But Thick as a Brick is a musical spoof the same way Edgar Wright’s movies (Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz, Scott Pilgrim) are cinematic ones—which is to say, it really isn’t.
*Some lyrics:
“So! Where the hell was Biggles when you needed him last Saturday?
And where were all the sportsmen who always pulled you through?
They’re all resting down in Cornwall –
writing up their memoirs for a paperback edition
of the Boy Scout Manual”
Most people would be lying if, through all of the movements, the flute-work and drawn-out instrumentals, they told you this album never feels bombastic. I’ll be the first to admit, at times the bridges get a bit long and the passages a bit redundant. But where a lot of satires set out to strictly mock, Thick as Brick—the same as Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz or Scott Pilgrim—is sort of co-conscious, allowing itself the space to get lost in the form that it’s supposedly making fun of. This kind of send-up isn’t biting or elitist. It’s a hat-tip, with the satirist in full appreciation of what gives its subject power in the first place.
Edgar Wright doesn’t hate zombie movies or action movies or comics/video games, he loves them. It’s just that he’s smart enough to acknowledge, and play off of, their clichés. That’s what makes his films worth watching and not all snickers and nudges. I’d bet there’s a part of Ian Anderson that feels the same away about prog, even if he does resent the classification.
I’ve always seen directors like Edgar Wright as sort of kids in candy stores. With every topic he centers his films around, with every frame, you can see a grown-up giddiness peaking through the seams, thrilled just to be there, a part of the magic he’s been so in awe of since he was a kid. And I truly believe that capturing and contributing to that magic is why he, and in turn, Jethro Tull, do what they do. The genre doesn’t matter; these guys are magicians, pushing the boundaries of their respective mediums to advance the affect of the greater “music/film experience.” And even if they’re doing it with a smirk, each are creating/have created media worth paying attention to. Because it’s genuinely passionate.
You can’t fake art. Force it and people will notice, even hate you for it. So in the end Thick as a Brick really does do serious work, in contributing to the “progressive rock” concept catalog and in being flat-out volatile. Anderson’s voice is sweet when it wants to be, and the band can be pretty when it feels like it, but when that first transition comes, you realize that you’ve just been strapped in for a ride you weren’t anticipating. Then, somehow, it’s 45 minutes later and you’re right back where you started and it all made perfect sense.
No matter what the inspiration, it’s impossible not to respect a piece that goes this far, takes this many chances. It’s this ownership over the form that fascinates me about musicians and directors, the claiming of a piece of “theirs,” taking a leap that guarantees that at a project’s end one person (or small group of people) will take full credit for success the same as they will blame for failure. With that in mind, it seems ridiculous for showmen like Jethro Tull to decide on a “satire” and not lace it with heart and honest ambition. If Thick as a Brick is really joke, I think maybe Anderson and the guys got distracted in the set-up. The punchline, then, would have to be the realization that they’d actually made a beautiful, complex and memorable record.
It isn’t funny ha-ha but, hey—they’re laughing.
Listen/Watch (if only to see crazy Ian Anderson in action):
“Thick as a Brick” (live, abridged), Part I
Honorable Mention: Ayreon – The Human Equation
Speaking of ambition, Ayreon’s The Human Equation has got to be one of the most unique albums I’ve ever heard. To this day, I couldn’t honestly tell you how much I “love” the piece, but as a longer, crazier, more varied and more obsessively committed example of what a contemporary concept album can be, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t get under my skin.
Over the top, 2 discs and not in any way for everyone, The Human Equation is really more a musical than a “concept.” It’s about a man who’s slipped into a coma and is digging through his past in order to find a little peace. But here’s the kicker: all of the emotions he’s sifting through are performed by guest musicians—Me is played by Dream Theater’s James Labrie, metal frontmen (Devin Townsend, Mikael Akerfeldt) sing Fear and Rage, a woman sings Love, there’s even an opera singer playing the part of Pride.
And so there’s a real “prog community” element to it. I’ve joked before that all of these prog rock bands, it’s almost like they all live in the same neighborhood, see each other around town, make small talk and invite one another every now and then to collaborate. In the sphere of my current playlist, you can follow a pretty coherent web of exploration, what led to what and why: Dream Theater’s first keyboardist started bands called Chroma Key and OSI, the latter of which Porcupine Tree’s dummer performed with in one album. Porcupine Tree creator, Steven Wilson, has a couple other bands: No-Man and Blackfield. Dream Theater’s drummer performs in Neal Morse’s work, and Morse used to lead Spock’s Beard. Spock’s Beard’s drummer recently toured with Frost*. Morse and Portnoy also play together in Transatlantic, a band featuring the guitarist from the Flower Kings and the bassist from Marillion. Etc., etc.,….
To be sure, The Human Equation has it’s share of cheese and it sometimes doesn’t work. But it usually does, and it gets major points for originality. It’s an album almost impossible to describe. It’s insane. You just have to hear it.
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