c o n r a d

How well I remember it. The Grammys were to present their first award for "Best Heavy Metal / Hard Rock Album". Everybody expected Metallica to win, but I had my fingers crossed for Jethro Tull. When it turned out that Crest of a Knave had won the inaugural award, there was naturally an uproar. The people who this award was supposed to represent weren't having their tastes represented. MTV did an article panning the Grammys in which they showed how silly it was to consider Crest of a Knave Heavy Metal by playing part of a particularly soft piece by Tull from another album. Whatever. I thought Crest of a Knave was the best of the albums nominated, even though their record company thought they had no chance of winning and so wouldn't pay for the airfare. It must be admitted, though, that the album is not a particularly heavy one. There are a couple of moments of heavy guitar work from Martin Barre, but for the most part the style is reminiscent of Dire Straits. Both Barre's guitar and Ian Anderson's vocals have a heavy Mark Knopfler influence on them at times. Aside from the controversies of style this album creates, it's the renewed quality of the songwriting here that makes Crest of a Knave memorable. There are two genuinely classic Tull tracks here. "Farm on the Freeway" mixes Barre's Knopfler-influenced guitar with Andeson's flute highly effectively, and the band uses a two chord sequence masterfully to build suspense. The song builds up and we're treated to one of Barre's best guitar solos with Tull before the song return to its quieter and still not quite resolved beginnings. "Mountain Men" is another song which builds up from a slow beginning. The highlights here are the composed guitar riffs which are comparable with some of Steve Hackett's early contributions to Genesis. The rest of the tracks on this album are generally solid, if not spectacular. As with most of Jethro Tull's albums, the lyrics stand out for their ironic perspective on life. Alongside the more serious observations are two pieces about Eastern European women he chatted up on tour, and completely failed to get into bed. And who could remember the Thatcher era and not smile at the line "Hey Mrs. Maggie won't you come on over. Hook me up to the power lines of your love"? This is easily one of Jethro Tull's best albums from the eighties, and even gives a number of Tull's seventies releases a run for their money. Ian Anderson does both fun and serious with equal aplomb, and once you get over the fact that the sound is seriously derivative of Dire Straits, the album is a great listen. Oh, and if this hadn't won the Grammy, I would personally liked to have seen it go to Jane's Addiction. Just in case there are any Metallica fans reading this. review by Conrad Leviston — 11-16-03 —

j o e

In 1987, the CD was still catching on as a new format and most record shops were still firmly dedicated to stocking and selling LPs. That autumn, I would head down after school to a record shop and enthusiastically rummage through the bins. What attracted my particular attention were new albums by three of my favorite bands at the time: Big Generator by Yes, Hold Your Fire by Rush, and Crest of a Knave by Jethro Tull. I remember picking all three up at around the same time, each with a simple iconography strewn across the gloriously huge space offered to the cover for the LP format. As it would turn out, sadly, all three albums would be disappointments of varying degrees. In the case of the latter two, I had heard rumors from other fans at my school word-of-mouth (remember, this was long before the days of the WWW and fan forums) that these albums would be a return to 'classic form,' away from the pop and synth-driven tendencies that had spread through their recent albums. This, of course, turned out to be crap. As a teenage boy whose main previous exposure to Jethro Tull was their classic stuff, I wasn't quite prepared for the mostly laid back offerings that greeted me here. Where were the contrapuntal bass runs? The Hammond organ? Did I pick up a Dire Straits album by mistake (not that there's anything wrong with that)? Returning to Crest of a Knave all these years later, I am quickly reminded about what really bugged me about the album then. The worst things remain the thin, late 80s production and the icky drum programming, neither of which have worn well. The album's most popular track, the generic "Steel Monkey," would have generated a lot more heat with a real drummer, but even when there is a real drummer present, they seem to be there strictly for the paycheck. That being said, as a mellow grown-up I find that myself enjoying this album much, much more. From a lyric-writing standpoint, Ian Anderson was stronger than ever. With his inimitable turn of phrase and irony, Anderson weaves vivid pictures with his words, particularly on the placid offerings that are, yes, a dead ringer for Mark Knopfler's band ("Said She Was a Dancer," "Budapest," "Mountain Men") but also on the grittier numbers ("Steel Monkey," "Jump Start"), all of which tended to go over my head back then. Like many other prog albums first explored as a teenager and exasperatingly filed away, Crest of a Knave is one with which I find myself fully reconciled. Though I wouldn't call it a classic by any stretch of the imagination, it is a decent effort worthy of some respect. review by Joe McGlinchey — 7-18-04 —