There’s a simple message on the screen after “Locomotive Breath”. One word. “Cheerio.”
And somehow, that is perfect. Warm, understated, gently eccentric, and entirely in keeping with the conviviality of a genuinely lovely, peculiarly British evening in Birmingham.
The show was split into two halves, and it was clear from the off that this was a set built with care. Not just a nostalgia trip, not just a “here’s the hits, thanks for coming” job, but something constructed to tell a story. Their story, really. One that now stretches nearly six decades, from scruffy blues beginnings to the zany world of prog rock and right up to a present that feels far more alive than it has any right to.
“It’s 1968,” says Ian Anderson before “Some Day The Sun Won’t Shine For You”, and that opening run takes them back to the days when, in Anderson’s words, they were “a little blues band”. He plays harmonica, talks, smiles, controls the room, and you remember that whatever else Tull became, the roots were always there. “Beggar’s Farm” follows, then “A Song For Jeffrey”, complete with a video-screen message from former member Jeffrey Hammond-Hammond.
Then, as Anderson puts it, they begin “embracing the zany world of prog rock”, and “Thick As A Brick” does what “Thick As A Brick” always does: reminds you that nobody else ever sounded quite like this lot. “Fat Man” is a folkier thing, with Scott Hammond on bongos and Jack Clark adding tin whistle, before “Curious Ruminant”, from last year’s sensational record, brings things right up to date. “Living In The Past” reaches back to the 1970s, while “Bourrée”, Anderson’s unique take on Johann Sebastian Bach, underlines something that probably doesn’t get said enough: the way he rocks a flute is still utterly his own.
After the interval, “My God” brings a sense of mischief, Anderson pretending to be too old for all this, when in truth he is incredibly sprightly and appears to be loving every second. “The Zealot Gene”, the title track from what had been their first album in two decades, is aided by stunning visuals telling the story of a world in thrall to social media.
Then comes “The Donkey And The Drum”, and with three of the current band hailing from Bristol, a song about one of that city’s notorious old watering holes makes perfect sense. It is exactly the sort of thing Tull do better than anyone: half history lesson, half folk tale, half pub yarn. Yes, that is three halves, but then this is Jethro Tull, so normal maths need not apply.
“Over Jerusalem” is the other new song, written for a city Anderson clearly loves, before “Budapest”, almost 40 years old now, remains gorgeous, helped by visuals that are incredible throughout. Then “Aqualung” arrives, and what really stands out is how heavy Tull can be. They had hinted at it all night, but here Jack Clark properly shines.
The encore the aforementioned, “….Breath”, sees phones allowed out for the first time, and people film and photograph with relish. But the energy in the room is all Anderson. He really is magnetic. Magnificent too.
And so are this band: Anderson, bassist David Goodier, keyboardist John O’Hara, drummer Scott Hammond and guitarist Jack Clark. Quite unlike any other, and without serious peer.
With three albums in three years, and live shows as fresh as this, even at nearly 79 Ian Anderson appears ready to make the most of what amounts to a second wind.
Cheerio, then. But hopefully not goodbye.
