As soon as the tinkling piano gives way to the unmistakable swirl of flute, it could only be Jethro Tull. Few, if any, wield the flute like a weapon quite like Ian Anderson, and opener “The Puppet and Puppet Master” wastes no time in asserting that trademark sound. It’s the quintessential Tull moment – all flute-led bravado, with the organ and lead guitar dancing around it like familiar old friends.
Album number 24, Curious Ruminant, continues the band’s late-career renaissance with grace, confidence, and more than a few surprises. There’s something gloriously overblown and poetic about the title track – rich in imagery and wit – while “Dunsinae Hill” is a warm Sunday afternoon stroll of a thing, wrapped in gentle folk charm.
Much of this record is drawn from unfinished instrumental demos made some years ago, yet there’s no disjointedness or sense of patchwork. Instead, there’s cohesion – helped along by the expert hand of Anderson and the introduction of new guitarist Jack Clark, who slips seamlessly into the fold. His playing brings energy and nuance, most notably on “The Tipu House,” which brims with vitality.
The instrumentation broadens the Tull palette, with accordion, mandolin, acoustic, and tenor guitars scattered across the record, all providing a subtle backdrop that harks back to the band’s golden ’70s folk-rock era. “Savannah Of Paddington Green,” for instance, couldn’t sound more quintessentially British if it was served with scones and clotted cream – whimsical, grounded, and charmingly idiosyncratic.
“Stygian Hand” brings a slightly unsettling tone, almost sea-shanty flavoured – the kind of thing that might make Seth Lakeman do a double take – while “Over Jerusalem” embraces the band’s progressive instincts with a sprawling arrangement that twists and turns with the confidence of a band that still very much has something to say.
But it’s “Drink From The Same Well” that truly steals the show. A 17-minute epic that doesn’t even bother with lyrics until nearly the eight-minute mark, it’s a piece of utter, glorious madness. Prog fans will adore it – it’s bold, unpredictable, and completely Tull.
And as the spoken word closer “Interim Sleep” eases the record to a gentle conclusion, it becomes clear that the poetic thread running through Curious Ruminant finds its most distilled form here. A fitting end to an album that, while often ruminative, is never less than compelling.
Jethro Tull may be decades into their journey, but Curious Ruminant shows there are still plenty of curious ideas and brilliant moments left in them yet.
