Tag Archive | "ian anderson"

Backstage Pass: Jethro Tull’s Ian Anderson


(Chrysalis/Brian Cooke, March 1978)

By  Peter Braidis

As the wild-eyed, flute-toting frontman for Jethro Tull, Ian Anderson has always been … well, a little different.

In this classic interview from 2002, the always-entertaining Anderson regales us with, among other things, tales of cleaning toilets, winning a controversial Grammy, his interactions with Black Sabbath’s Tony Iommi and Ozzy Osbourne, and the days of “Jethro Toe.”

Well actually I’m going to start with something that I was curious about that I read once. I believe you used to clean toilets way back when, and you kept one of the urinals in your house as a memento. Is that true?

Ian Anderson: Yeah, I did for a short time. When I first tried to become a professional musician, I did take a job as a cleaner in a movie theater in the South of England, and unfortunately, it was my job to clean out the toilets, which was a particularly unsavory part of the job. I don’t know if it’s the same today, but for some reason when people go to the movie theater they seem to have their minds on other things and their point of aim is somewhat distracted. (Laughs) So it was a messy job.

Yeah, I don’t think times have changed.

IA: No. Well, perhaps not. In Europe if you go on the trains in Germany, there’s a little sign telling men that it is advisable to sit down on the toilet to have a pee in order that they don’t wet the seat or the area around for subsequent customers.

I’m not sure how many men obey that, but it certainly seems quite a good idea.

But the urinal that I liberated from the store in the cinema was a slightly cracked, damaged, chipped porcelain urinal and it certainly wasn’t anything they were going to use, because it had a little chip out the side. So I liberated this from the store and I took it back to my little one-room, cold-water apartment, and I kept it for a year or two. But when I got married it was decided it wasn’t quite the thing to have around the first marital home. So it didn’t make the transition to the rest of my life.

I was just wondering what you’ve done with your Grammy.

IA: I wish I could answer the question. I’ve really no idea. I talked to my wife about this a few weeks ago. I said, “You remember that Grammy thing — that sort of horrible, plastic-y thing that came on little wooden splints?” I said, “Whatever happened to that?”

She said, “I really don’t know. It’s around somewhere.”

But you know, no one knows where it is. That shouldn’t be taken as a sign of disrespect for the Grammy Award system, or, indeed, the accolade of winning a Grammy, because after all, it’s not just a bunch of drunken bums from the world of records, radio or even the press that makes these decisions … but the problem is, I’m just not a keeper, a hoarder of trophies and reminders of things. I don’t have any gold albums.

Regarding the Grammy itself, how shocked were you when you found out you were nominated in the Hard Rock/Heavy Metal category?

IA: Well, I was very shocked that we were nominated. That was very surprising when I heard that we had been nominated. I was truly, truly surprised and questioned this with the record company. I said, “Look, this is a kind of weird thing to happen. We’re not really hard rock or heavy metal,” and the record company said, yeah, well we just kind of put your name up for nomination because, well, frankly there wasn’t another category that we thought of. This was actually the first year for this new category…

It was announced in the Grammy system. But prior to that, there really hadn’t been a category in which they felt it was worth putting us forward. I mean I was never going to win Best Male Vocalist or we weren’t going to win Best Group, because you know, that’s usually reserved for more popular, pop music kind of acts. And they didn’t have a category for best one-legged flute player, so I guess the record company just shoved us into this new category and figured, what the hell, let’s give it a spin.

And then strangely, of course, it was accepted, and I suppose the fact that we were the unlikely nominees alongside, if memory serves, Metallica, Iggy Pop, Jane’s Addiction — whatever they were — and one or two more that I can’t remember the names of. But at that point, I said, “Hey look, we’ve been nominated and that’s pretty weird. Maybe, maybe it’s not so unlikely that we might actually win,” because apart from Metallica, who were the hot shots around town in terms of hard rock and that kind of metal approach, it was early in their careers. And I thought, well, for all we know, the voters might think, oh good old Jethro Tull, they’ve been around for a while and no one ever gave them a Grammy before, so perhaps we’ll favor them.

So I remember actually saying to the folks at the record company, “Well, who knows? We might actually win this. Maybe Metallica will do it, but it wouldn’t surprise me.” However, the record company didn’t feel the same way. They thought it was completely unlikely, and we were lucky to be nominated and they sort of felt pretty sure that Metallica was going to win, and they didn’t want pay for me or any other members of Jethro Tull to fly to Los Angeles for the Grammy Ceremony. They said well, we’ve got Pat Benatar and Huey Lewis going, and that’s as far as the budget would stretch.

That’s right, this was Chrysalis Records.

IA: Right. So they didn’t want us to go. And we were basically working in the studio that evening when there was a phone call very late at night, and our publicist in the record company rang us up and said, “You won’t believe this, but you won the Grammy.” And I said, “Oh great, great, I’ll tell the other guys, thanks very much,” and that was it. That was all that happened really, no big deal at all.

Until the next day when we found that it had been, to put it mildly, a controversial win. And then having subsequently seen a tape of the show, poor old Alice Cooper had to hold up the Grammy with no one coming to collect it and to be greeted with resounding boos (laughs) from the rafters from both the Metallica fans, who were mightily pissed off that their heroes hadn’t won, and, indeed, from all the press contingent who were outraged that Jethro Tull had won this Grammy.

And I thought that was very weird because at the point when we were nominated, there wasn’t a peep.

No one said a word. Because, I guess we were considered such unlikely people no one got upset at that time. But when we actually won, (laughs) they got their knickers in a real twist. It was something that upset them greatly, and it was at that point that I thought, “Damn, I wish I’d been there. It would have been so fantastic to be out there at the Grammys and have everybody boo when I walked out there.”

It would have been like a “Spinal Tap” moment.

IA: To walk out at this showbiz award type of thing and have just a wall of people booing would have been unbelievable, and I’m sure some pissy and utterly wicked comment might have parted my lips (laughs).

I believe you would have been capable of that. Here’s a question for you. Your very first single, I think it was anyway, “Sunshine Day” …

IA: It was actually made prior to Jethro Tull being Jethro Tull. It was a demo, actually.

Yeah, they just kind of threw it out there. Did they not actually list you as Jethro Toe?

IA: Yeah, and we were never really sure why, whether it was an genuine typo or whether the producer at the time, in some hope that he might circumvent actually having to pay us or run foul of our management — because it was released without any real approval — he just went ahead and did it, and we were called Jethro Tull at that point. But he put this thing out calling it Jethro Toe, which sounds like he might have been trying to capitalize on the name, whilst legally saying no, that’s just a coincidence, that has nothing to do with Jethro Tull.

But whatever it was, it really didn’t matter. It only sold about 23 copies (laughs) — just a collector’s piece for those strange folks who go to those strange occasions called record fairs and actually buy pieces of scratchy old vinyl and take them home to hoard in the privacy of their own homes, into a world of a … I don’t know what kind of disease would go with collecting vinyl.

Your song “One Brown Mouse,” which is actually my favorite Jethro Tull song, although it’s a bit obscure, I think I read that it was inspired by a Robert Burns poem. Is that right?

IA: Well, that’s right. There’s been more than one mouse that was the hero of penned ditties. So it was Robert Burns, the famous Scottish poet who wrote [the] ode, “To A Mouse.”

I had a mouse when I was a little boy, and I used to sit and watch it and wonder what went on in that tiny little brain as it sat there in its little cage, playing on one of those wheels for exercise. But Syd Barrett, in the early days of Pink Floyd, I think he had a song … he had the words, “I’ve got a … I’ve got a…”

“Bike”?

IA: It was a song called “Bike” yeah. “I’ve got a mouse, and he doesn’t have a house, and I don’t know why I called him Gerald, he’s getting rather old, but he’s a good mouse.” So that’s a silly non sequitur, but that’s Syd Barrett for you! (laughs) But that’s another same kind of thing. I think the mouse is the villain of the domestic animal world, you know, someone who infiltrates our houses as a rather unwelcome guest. But I guess we all have that soft spot for that little mouse who kind of hides under the floorboards and in the rafters.

Now I’m a huge, huge Black Sabbath fan, and even though it was only for a few weeks, I know Tony Iommi filled in for you guys for a while in the late ’60s …

IA: Well, let me put that one in perspective. Tony met us … actually, when, I’m not sure. There might have been other guys who became part of Black Sabbath, when Black Sabbath was actually Black Sabbath, but in a band that supported Jethro Tull, towards the end of 1968.

Tony Iommi was there playing with whoever, and we sort of talked to him. He was a very nice guy, and when Mick Abrahams departed from the band at the end of ’68, amongst about, I don’t know, four or five other guitar players that we … I don’t want to use the word auditioned.

When Tony came … he and a few other guitar players, we just kind of got together for a couple of hours — three hours, four hours, whatever — in the afternoon and just played a few things. And I ran a few new ideas by them to see how they reacted, but it wasn’t like a formal audition. It was more just like people that you met: David O’List from The Nice — if you remember a band called The Nice, featuring Keith Emerson in his pre-Emerson, Lake & Palmer days — came along, you know, and we played together for a while, in my little room for an afternoon. Martin Barre came along. He didn’t get the job, but he did later, and Tony was one of those folks.

The only time he was really sort of involved in the band, professionally speaking, was when we were asked to “The Rolling Stones Rock And Roll Circus.” We didn’t have a guitar player, and Tony kind of came along and stood in on guitar — not actually playing, he was miming to the backing track. I was singing and playing live, but the other guys were on tape. So that was Tony’s only appearance with Jethro Tull. It was literally as someone we met before and was a nice guy, but he wasn’t really right for Jethro Tull. He knew that and I knew that. It was, well we played together for … I recall being in a rehearsal room somewhere in London, but I know we spent an afternoon together and played two or three things.

Tony was great at doing some things, but there was some other stuff, particularly amongst the new songs that we were writing, that weren’t really up his street. It wasn’t stuff he felt really comfortable with and so, you know, it was a moment that came and went really. And I’m sure from Tony’s point of view it was the best bit of luck he had all that day, that he didn’t end up joining Jethro Tull. Otherwise, (laughing) he wouldn’t have gone on to enjoying the position he did with Black Sabbath. In many ways Tony became the prototype of the heavy-metal riffer.

And there’s the irony, that you guys won the Metal Grammy before they did.

IA: Oh well, there you go. I guess looking back on it he too probably feels rightfully quite proud of the role that he played, you know, back in the early days of Black Sabbath. They actually played with us in America. I don’t think they did very much because the guy, Ozzy Osbourne, inclined sometimes not to manage doing the show (laughs). I remember going to his dressing room and saying, “Well, aren’t you gonna bloody get up there and play?” And he’d say, “No, I can’t sing tonight. I have no voice. I can’t do this.”

Anyway, I guess in the early days Ozzy was the kind of — I don’t know — probably not as important a figure as the musical substance in particular that came from Tony. It more or less evolved, this style of playing these monophonic riffs. There was no rhythmic part. It was just doom-laden, monophonic unison riffs with the bass, although people like Cream had made a living out of doing bluesy based riffs.

This thing that Black Sabbath did was somewhat different. It didn’t really owe much to the blues. It was more of a kind of statement out there in the gothic land of metal before anybody really knew what the term meant. Not that I’m sure what they mean now. I think Tony was very much a key man. In fact, it was my great pleasure a few years ago when I was asked to present Tony with an award, at the Kerrang! Awards in London. And so it was good to see Tony again after a few years and give him whatever it was that, if he’s like me, he’s left in a closet somewhere (laughs) where he can’t put his hands on it.

I saw a car commercial not too long ago using “Thick As A Brick.” How did that come about?

IA: Well, [that was] through my publishers, Chrysalis Music, who phoned me up and said there’s this company, Hyundai, and they want to do an ad using some music from “Thick As A Brick” and they need your permission. And I said, “Well, I don’t have a problem with that,” but given that they wanted to re-record a sort of 30- or 60-second version of it, I said, “Well fine, but if they’re going to re-record it, maybe they want me to do it for them, because I can do that pretty quickly.”
So we agreed that I would re-record it, and they sent me a story board and specific timings, and I had a pretty good idea of how the ad was going to run. I just put together a couple of different versions and sent it back to them. And then they tore them apart and put them back together in a slightly different order, which wasn’t actually the way I intended it to be anyway. But, for whatever reason, they edited it the way they wanted it run, but it’s me playing. They left off all the nice flute-y bits at the end, which was the best bit, but it is actually me playing. So I took about three hours to play a few different instruments on that and put it together.

Well, it’s aired quite a bit over here, for what it’s worth. I don’t even remember what car it is.

IA: Well, they could have sent me the money or maybe about seven cars! (Laughs)

Or maybe a wheel?

IA: Well you see the joke’s on us, because Hyundai and, let it be put on record here, in terms of competitive professional motor sports was one of the top rallying cars in international off-road rallying last year, tremendously successful. I mean absolutely the peak of professional motor-sport vehicle, absolutely a winner, Hyundai. But not obviously the same car you get for about $15,000 or whatever you buy one for in America and travel to the mall with. This was their factory, specially prepared, super powerful, amazing off-road rally car.

Now, I know you love cats, as do I. I went on the website and saw what you’re doing for certain species. How did you get involved in all that?

IA: Well, I’ve always loved cats even as a child and some people grow up being doggy people and some people like cats. I mean the majority of cat lovers are women rather than men but so are the majority of flute players also women rather than men, which goes to demonstrate in at least part of my life, I show my feminine side. But that’s about as close as it gets, guys. I’m quite happy to recognize my more feminine traits as long as I don’t have to get in bed with your brother. (Laughs) Because I haven’t actually managed to have had a homosexual experience, which I’m a little bit disappointed about because somewhere along the line it would have been nice to been seriously propositioned, but sadly, I’ve never had a proposition, and I’m a bit pissed off about it really. I mean, what the hell’s wrong with me?

But even when I was a youth, I didn’t get any of those dirty old men trying to middle up to me on a park bench or put their hand on my knee on whatever. Yet, I’ve been around gay people for a lot of my life, I mean people I worked with or met, yes, loads of gay people and yet, they don’t seem to fancy me. It’s a bit depressing really. I mean in a way, I’m quite relaxed about it in the sense that they didn’t put me in a situation where I would have to offend somebody by spurning their advances, but it would have been quite nice to have been asked to the party.

Yeah, for the ego. Well do you know the Meow Mix song? You know for the cat food.

IA: No, I don’t believe we have that over here.

I was hoping you’d do an unplugged version of that some day. Something to think about anyway.

IA: Oh yes.

Well, now as far as the new live record, Living With The Past,  I just received it yesterday but I listened to …

IA: Well, you’re a lucky guy. I haven’t received it at all, I still haven’t got one — well let me see, no, no, I managed to download two-thirds of the artwork for some last-minute tweaks that the European company needs to do.

Well, the artwork’s pretty cool.

IA: Of course I’ve got a master copy of the record because I was there (laughs). I mean, I produced it and mastered it, but I don’t have an official pressing, as it were. But I’m looking forward to getting my copy.

Well you should because the sound quality and the production is just fantastic. It’s really cool to hear you doing stuff from every part of your career, from “Roots To Branches” to “Sweet Dream” and of course “Aqualung” and stuff like that.

IA: Yeah we tried on the CD not to just make it a part of the soundtrack of the DVD. We tried to, you know, include a few extra and sort of off-the-wall kind of things from other performances. The CD and the DVD kind of have their own identities although they basically show the same essential artwork and are very close cousins. But the CD was kind of fun, because it was mastering all the DVD material, which was two hours worth of music, and I got that done first. Then I went back to pluck from that, and find some other sources of material for the CD, you know, for the audio product. So it was pretty fun. I kind of listened to snippets of old recordings to find five or six pieces that were going to be something, not too ancient, but live performances of a different sort and I came across some stuff I had done a couple of years ago and got a couple of pieces, from about ten years ago that must have been done for radio. They were as you would describe, unplugged and more acoustic rendition of  things that were fun to do.

FURTHER READING: IAN ANDERSON’S TEN ALBUMS THAT CHANGED HIS LIFE


MORE RESOURCES FOR MUSIC COLLECTORS

*Great Books, CDs, Price Guides & More
*Share YOUR Thoughts in the Goldmine Forums
*Check out our FREE Online Classified Ads
*Sign up for your FREE Goldminemag.com email newsletter

Click here to check out the latest price guides from Goldmine

Related Posts:

Posted in Articles, Backstage PassComments (0)

The 10 albums that changed Ian Anderson’s life


by Peter Lindblad

Not surprisingly, Ian Anderson, the charismatic leader of British progressive-rock folkies Jethro Tull, has eclectic tastes in music. The 10 albums that changed his life bear that out.

Captain Beefheart: Trout Mask Replica
Don Van Vliet and his Magic Band were our support act in 1972. We were fans of the man and the Trout Mask Replica album already and the songs from Trout Mask and the then-current The Spotlight Kid album were the basis of their show with Tull. Don’s pseudo poetry and näive musical inventiveness are sorely missed.

The Graham Bond Organization: The Sound of ’65
This was the seminal album for anyone in the U.K. nurturing early jazz-rock pretensions. Two pre-Cream members (Jack Bruce and Ginger Baker) plus the renegade jazzman Bond give sturdy renditions of classic jazz, blues and home-grown compositions which fired a generation of Brit bands of the late ’60s/early ’70s.

Blind Faith: Blind Faith
I was living in Kentish Town, London when I heard this, just at the the time when Tull was getting started. They gave me the courage to develop improvisation and extended song development.

Roy Harper: Come Out Fighting Genghis Khan
Roy was an ex-Blackpool contemporary folk musician, having escaped earlier than I did. He showed me the way to acoustic guitar and songwriting in a more poetic and enigmatic way.

J.B. Lenoir: Alabama Blues
Re-released these days as Passionate Blues. Taught me the difference between white man’s blues and black man’s blues. Lenoir sang about race riots, lynchings, beatings and the plight of black Americans in the early ’60s.

Beethoven: The Ninth Symphony
I first really took notice of [this] in the 1971 [Stanley] Kubrick classic, “A Clockwork Orange.” The scherzo was played on early synthesisers by the then Walter (later Wendy) Carlos. I wasn’t too keen on the synths but got hold of the Berlin Philharmonic’s version conducted by Von Karajan on the Deutsche Grammophon label. At the time, I was buying a Spanish motocross racer bike, the Ossa Phantom, and so that machine and Beethoven were forever oddly linked in my memory.

Mose Allison: Swingin’ Machine
Mose was a favorite of early R&B and jazz/blues pioneers in the U.K. But this album, much more sophisticated and featuring a small brass contingent, lit up my life as a teenager with laconic vocals and post-be-bop jazz credentials.

Led Zeppelin: Led Zeppelin
This album showed us that you could be a huge success in the U.S.A. without singles, hype and showbiz clout. The music stood and still stands up for itself.

Jimi Hendrix: Are You Experienced?
A lesson in sadness and madness! Jimi was the wild Eric of his day, and we played  alongside him on a few occasions until his tragic death following the Isle Of Wight Fest in 1970.

John Mayall: Bluesbreakers With Eric Clapton
This was the record which persuaded me to give up notions of guitar-playing excellence and toot the flute instead.

Related Posts:

Posted in 10 Albums, ArticlesComments (2)

Ian Anderson goes orchestral with Jethro Tull’s music


By  Todd Whitesel

Ian Anderson is known to rock fans worldwide as the demonstrative flutist and singer of Jethro Tull. Although Tull’s music is frequently lumped into the hard rock, and even heavy metal, genre, Anderson is most comfortable performing music in an acoustic vein.

The longtime Tull frontman’s most recent project, Ian Anderson Plays The Orchestral Jethro Tull, finds him reworking classic tunes, including “Aqualung” and “Locomotive Breath,” with the Frankfurt Symphony Orchestra.

Goldmine spoke with Anderson from his home in Scotland about playing with a classically trained ensemble and the challenges and rewards that come from it.

Goldmine: In the CD liners you wrote that you tried to approach this project by meeting the instruments of the symphonic orchestra as a fellow acoustic musician, rather than just slapping a rock band on top of an orchestra. Some other bands have done that, but I believe your approach is more interesting.

Ian Anderson: That’s very kind of you. That’s what I try to do by, I suppose, coming to it from a different background. A rock band is a rock band. I’m always stuck and ever uncomfortable when asked what kind of music I play, because I can’t think of a better way to describe it then to say, “Well I play in a sort-of rock band called Jethro Tull.” Because the word “rock” seems to be the all-encompassing terminology for relatively loud amplified music — spans the period from the ’60s through today. But I’m uncomfortable with it because so much of Jethro Tull’s material over the years — particularly on big-selling albums like Aqualung and Thick As A Brick — there’s a lot of acoustic music in there.

I can’t call Jethro Tull an acoustic band; I can’t call it an acoustic-rock band or folk band or whatever kind of band because we do so much different sort of stuff. And I play in the company of loud electric musicians and a loud drummer, so I’m the unplugged guy in a rock band — that’s basically what I do. But I’ve been doing it for 37 years, apart from those occasions when I do the more acoustic music off stage, either with Jethro Tull or as a solo performer or with orchestra. Doing the kind of music I do and playing the songs and instruments I play, it is a much more natural and easy fit for me to play with my fellow orchestral musicians than it is to play with other loud rock bands. I’m not a comfortable rock musician, never have been. Even within the context of Jethro Tull — it’s a lot of fun for a while — but I wouldn’t like to be on stage for two hours playing just nothing but loud rock music. That would drive me nuts.

This setting not only gives you the opportunity to re-evaluate your music, but it sounds like there’s a real comfort factor for you to play in this environment.

It is much more comfortable because you hear much more detail. Obviously we play with an amplified orchestra in the venues where we have to pitch them up above the level they would play at in a small, traditional concert hall. We’re playing, quite often, in rather bigger venues, rock-size venues. I mean you have to amplify an orchestra even for a classical concert — that’s pretty much standard in most big classical concert halls these days. Usually just with two microphones hanging over the orchestra but just to give it that little bit of a lift, maybe just raise it up to the level of 70-75 dB, which sounds loud for an orchestra. For a rock concert 85-90 is sort of relatively quiet. [laughs]

I think it’s always been the case that music can be powerful and exciting without actually having to be ear-splittingly 747 loud. It can have power and drama and really make you feel moved in quite a physical way without brute force.

You’ve stated that you’re very bad about collaborating on songwriting. How are you when it comes to collaborating on arrangements?

That’s quite enjoyable to do if working with the right people. It’s kind of a different matter, because it’s something you’ve already written. Therefore it’s looking at other ways to present it and ways of dividing up available musical lines among different instruments and different voicings and being aware of the scope of the different instruments — the limitations of the range of the instruments, where they sound good, what combination of instruments works. These are things people go to college to study for years and years; bearing in mind that I neither read nor write music or have been to college to study anything other than drawing and painting, I’m not the man who really can orchestrate for that number of musicians and present them with finished material. On the other hand, I’ve usually got a reasonable working knowledge of how to go about it; I just happen to collaborate with people who have the skills to put it together and finally — working with me — come to an arrangement that makes sense.

Elizabeth Purnell collaborated with you on what I’ll call the “big four” — “Aqualung,” “Locomotive Breath,” “My God” and “Budapest.” Who is she?

She’s a trombone player by training and does sort of television music working out of a town in the west country of England called Bristol. Bristol is a big center for a lot of television drama and documentary stuff to be done.

You’ve said you never get tired of playing “Aqualung,” but for listeners it’s nice to hear a new spin on it.

That was one that was pretty much all me. On “My God,” Elizabeth did some interesting lines that were her own creative addition to some parts of that song. There’s one bit of music in the “Aqualung” track where she did a 16-bar orchestral piece that was not of my origination. But that’s collaboration; you toss in ideas, and you give people some breathing space to come up with ideas and lines and thoughts of their own. If they work they work. If they don’t then you think of a way to diplomatically advise that it’s probably not quite what you want.

Were many of the orchestra members familiar with your music before this project? What do you think they learned about Tull’s music?

I get a feeling pretty much with every orchestra I’ve played with — I’ve played with quite a lot in different countries — it’s usually the case that between ? and ? of them know who I am and have heard some of the music. There are usually quite a lot of CDs that are produced at the end of the first rehearsal period that they’ve brought along for me to sign — either their own or for friends. It’s very rare that an orchestra doesn’t know me at all. It has happened in the case of some orchestras from the former U.S.S.R. or Eastern Europe, where they’ve really lived in a vacuum and classical music is all they’ve ever listened to. In Western orchestras there will be always be some people who are familiar with Jethro Tull music.

I think what they would learn, within the first 10 minutes of rehearsal, is that it’s not going to be an easy ride. The music is quite deliberately, and I hope reasonably skillfully, written to provide a musical challenge to the best of orchestras and also, given the time restraints of rehearsal, to make some of the music pretty easy for them in as much as they can play it through once. By the time we get to play it through a second time, 90 percent of what they need to know about that piece of music they’ve got. Maybe we just have to run over a few bars here and there that aren’t quite gluing together.

That would account for maybe 30-40 percent of the music they have to play is very easy for them — very deliberately written so that it is. Then we have to concentrate on the more difficult stuff, which takes up most of the rehearsal time. I would say that probably 25 percent of the music takes 60 percent of the available time, because it does have to be repeated, repeated, and we have to get to the bottom of why things aren’t working out. It usually has more to do with rhythmic issues, because most classical players are relying totally on a conductor to keep them going in terms of tempo and also for their entries and dynamics. Whereas we expect them to be able to follow and play ensemble, together with, particularly, the drummer. That’s something that’s quite difficult for many of them to do; they’re not used to listening to specific instruments and playing with them. And some of them are just rhythmically not very capable people, because it’s not the backbone of classical music to have a metronomic sense of time. However, in rock and pop music you’ve got to be a pretty good timekeeper otherwise you sound stupid, and you won’t get a job [laughs] or keep it very long. Classical musicians are a little short on rhythmic accuracy and phrasing, particularly with time signatures and with rhythmic feels, which are not common in classical music. What we call “swing” — something that has a dotted crotchet or quaver feel to it — that can cause problems.

There are inherent difficulties in some of the music we play, which does ask the orchestra to step across the line into that world of syncopation and swing. It’s quite tricky to do. Some of them get it; some of them don’t. Some will never, ever ever be able to do it. You have to accept that they get as close as they can, and that’s as good as you’re going to get. So it’s never entirely successful, this experience. It’s always a question of degree, trying to get close to this point where you do collectively work as a unit, and you do collectively embrace some musical idea. That doesn’t stop me from trying or enjoying it. I just have to be realistic and never expect it to be perfect.

Are you self-conscious of your flute playing or singing when playing with classically trained musicians?

I’m not self conscious of my singing, because I don’t think of myself as a singer. I sing because nobody else in the band could ever sing; I’m the singer for that reason. It never embarrasses me if I’m getting up to do it for a job — singing in a concert or rehearsal doesn’t embarrass me at all. I know my limitations much better than anyone else.

As a flute player, of course, I’m having to get up there in front of the principal flutist of, sometimes, a name orchestra or to play with some other people who are famous flute soloists. Then, I’m very much aware that they’re sort of anticipating and wondering what I’m going to do. I don’t ever feel that I’m going to be compared with them in the sense of the technical skills that they have or indeed the quality of sound that they produce, because my way of playing — being completely self-taught — my way of playing is somewhat different to theirs. The major difference is rhythmic and more percussive use of breath and embouchure to produce notes that you certainly wouldn’t be asked to do in classical music, and you would be very much discouraged from doing it if a conductor found you doing it.

I’m doing a lot of stuff classical musicians don’t do or aren’t allowed to do. I think they know in a short space of time that I do what I do probably better than they can. But I’m not going to try and compete with them playing intricate scale-based motifs from a Mozart flute concerto. As much as I admire and enjoy listening to that music sometimes, it’s not what I particularly want to do or learn to do; I think we have our own separate worlds.

There’s some great flute players in the world of folk music and in other traditions like Indian classical music. I’ve played with the legendary Haripasad Chaurasia, India’s most famous living flute player. I guess he and I kind of circled each other like a Sopwith Camel and a Fokker Triplane in World War I, waiting to see who is going to put his finger on the gun button first; who’s going to fire the first round? There’s that sort of sense of it being potentially a bit of a duel. But you’ve got to get over that mentality very quickly whilst you stake out your own bit of territory; you then have to find the ways to bring your different worlds closer together. That’s quite hard if you’re two grizzly old guys — a bit of senile testosterone flying around. [laughs] After having done, I think, three concerts with Haripasad Chaurasia — he gave me a big hug in the end and gave me a very complimentary statement of his experience playing with me, which I was very humbled by. He’s someone who is considerably older than me and has been playing all of his life and is an undisputed master of his instrument — in a musically quite different style and technically a very different musical instrument to start with. It’s a great experience to do that; it’s a great experience to play with any musician, regardless of instrument, when you know that they are at the top of their tree.

I’ve played with some jazz musicians like Al DiMeola, the guitar player; with Bill Evans, the saxophone player; and Anthony Jackson and Victor Bailey, bass players. You’re playing with the people who are the best in the world. In some cases they are my age or younger. It’s always a sort of profound and very touching experience to do that, and you have to get over the sense of competitiveness and nervousness and just go with the flow. Once you settle down with it you can concentrate on finding the little moments that come, particularly when you’re working in improvised music. It becomes quite flirtatious between instruments, and that’s fun to do.

You include Gabriel Faure’s “Pavane” on this album, and Bach’s “Bouree” has long been part of your set. Are you comfortable interpreting other composers’ music?

I have a theory about doing other people’s stuff based on, really, my reaction to what happens when other people play my music. Going back quite a long way people have had a crack at doing the odd Jethro Tull song, and I suppose my first reaction if somebody does one of my songs is I’m flattered that they would spend the time and effort and indeed the money to record one of my songs. When I hear the end result — I could absolutely detest it — but that won’t take away from the fact that they took the time and trouble. But I’m much more likely to enjoy the end result and be even more flattered if they do my song in a way that’s totally different from the way I did it. So if they change the key and the time signature and even change the melody a bit — and although it may sound sacrosanct, even if they change a couple of words — that doesn’t bother me. In fact, it makes it much more interesting — the fact someone would put their creative juices to work interpreting a piece of music of mine in quite a different way. Then my ears perk up and I’m even more flattered. If, however, they do it the way I did it — just, perhaps, not as well [laughs] — then I might remain flattered but asking myself, “What’s the point? Why bother?” [laughs]

I think it’s more interesting to do something a little different. So when I take somebody else’s piece of music — and it’s usually classical or traditional or church music that I’ve done this with — I’m interested to see what I can do with a good tune. I believe you can’t destroy a good tune; you can dress it up pretty badly and put a pretty badly hanging suit of clothes on it, and you can take it to places where perhaps it’s not keeping good company. But you never actually destroy the real inherent nature of a good tune. I’m interested in taking that tune and taking it out for a walk in a different neighborhood, dressing it up a different way and introducing it to some new friends. That’s what I would do with Bach or Faure or the anonymous composers of some traditional folk pieces or church music, or as I’m about to do with some music by Mozart, who I’ve never played before. I’m certainly not wanting to poke fun at it — I absolutely revere and respect these fine tunes — I would like to do with those classical composers what I would like to see other people do when they play one of my tunes, have a go at making it their own.

Related Posts:

Posted in ArticlesComments (0)

EMAIL NEWSLETTER

Sign up to receive Goldmine's free weekly eNewsletter and get weekly updates on your favorite classic artists and the music collecting hobby!
Email:

FOLLOW US

Twitter Facebook Myspace YouTube

A LOOK INSIDE: The Spin Clean Record Washing System

Polls

Three years after Pink Floyd unveiled quadraphonic sound at a concert, the format finally arrived on records. What's your take on quadraphonic records?

View Results

Loading ... Loading ...

SPONSORS