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 Альбом с оригинальным названием “А” (хорошо еще, что не “А – А”) демонстрирует явный крен в сторону арт-рока с ведущими клавишными. Вероятно, Андерсону вдруг захотелось сотворить чего-то новенького… Ну, что ж, цель была достигнута – в результате, если сравнить этот альбом с начальным периодом творчества группы, то может создаться впечатление, что это две разные группы. От акваланговского «средневекового рока» не осталось и следа. На певый план вылезли синтезаторы. Все остальное (включая даже фирменную фишку группы – флейту) задвинуто куда-то назад. Собственно флейты на этом альбоме почти нет – она здесь только в качестве фона. В результате ощущение от альбома какое-то неопределенное: звучит некий арт, напичканный синтезаторами, а когда где-то там вдруг зазвучит флейта, на ум приходит мысль – «ах, да, я и забыл – ведь это JETHRO TULL!». А что касается знаменитых флейтовых соло, то их здесь нет вовсе… И это кстати, вполне логично: концепция альбома (отчетливо видная в его обормлении) не позволяет активно использовать этот старинный инструмент, более подходящий для пастушеских песен. Из всех композиций лишь “4.W.D. (Low Ratio)” (8), а также инструментал “The Pine Marten’s Jig” (9) напоминают прежний стиль, за счет более активного использования флейты, а также пианино. А с другой стороны, есть флейта – нет флейты – какая разница? Я так полагаю, главное, чтоб музыка была хорошей. Так что, может быть, такая перемена и сошла бы Андерсону с рук, если бы альбом содержал бы массу сильных хитов. Однако с этим проблемы… Не то что бы материал был совсем плох, просто ни одной вещи, достаточно сильной, чтобы поставить рядом с хитами начала 70-х я здесь не вижу. Кроме того, вокал Андерсона в сравнении даже с предыдущим альбомом звучит как-то слабо.
Тем не менее, нельзя сказать, что альбом плох, играют вполне профессиолнально, очень качественная запись, мелодии, в общем, ничего так – раз эдак на третий начинают откладываться… Но до шедевра ему чрезвычайно далеко. Возможно, поклонникам Марилион он и понравился бы, но для любителей старого доброго харда он явно не подходит.
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( 1 )
Caught in the crossfire on Princes Gate Avenue
In go the windows and out go the lights
Call me a doctor, fetch me a policeman
I'm down on the floor in one hell of a fight
I'm just a soul with an innocent face
A regular boy dressed in blue
Conducting myself in a proper way
As befitting the job that I do
They came down on me like a ton of bricks
Swept off my feet, knocked about
There's nothing for it but to sit and wait
For the hard men to get me out
Caught in the crossfire on Princes Gate Avenue
In go the windows and out go the lights
Call me a doctor, fetch me a policeman
I'm down on the floor in one hell of a fight
Calm reason floats from the street below
And the slow fuse burns through the night
Everyone's tried to talk it through
But they can't seem to get the deal right
Somewhere there are Brownings in a two hand hold
Cocked and locked, one up the spout
There's nothing for it but to sit and wait
For the hard men to get me out
I'm caught in the crossfire on Princes Gate Avenue
In go the windows and out go the lights
Call me a doctor, fetch me a policeman
I'm down on the floor in one hell of a fight
Fylingdale flyer
(Anderson)
Through clear skies tracking lightly from far down the line
No fanfare, just a blip on the screen
No quick conclusions now, everything will be fine
Short circuit glitch and not what it seems
Fylingdale flyer
You're only half way there
Green screen liar
For a second or so we were running scared
On late shift, feeling drowsy, eyes glued to the display
Dead cert alert, lit match to the straw
One last quick game of bowls, we can still win the day
Fail safe, forget the things that you saw
Fylingdale flyer
You're only half way there
Green screen liar
For a second or so we were running scared
They checked the systems through and they read "A Ok"
Some tiny fuse has probably blown
Sit back, relax and soon it will just go away
Keep your hands off that red telephone
Fylingdale flyer
You're only half way there
Green screen liar
For a second or so we were running scared
Working John, working Joe
(Anderson)
When I was a young man, as all good tales begin
I was taught to hold out my hand
And for my pay I worked an honest day
And took what pittance I could win
Now I'm a working John and I'm a working Joe
And I'm doing what I know
For God and the economy
Big brother watches over me
And the state protects and feeds me
And my conscience never leaves me
And I'm loyal to the unions
Who protect me at all levels
And as I grew, the winds of fortune blew
And the bank smiled down upon me
And mortgaged to the hilt I threw
The breeze of caution behind me
Now I'm a working John and I'm a working Joe
And I'm good at what I know
And God and the economy
Have blessed me with equality
Now I'm equal to the best of you
And better than the rest of you
Who would criticise my success?
In times of national unrest
Now I own my horseless carriage
In its central heated garage
And I commute eighty miles a day
Up at seven to make it pay
I direct ten limited companies
With seeming consummate expertise
Two ulcers and a heart disease
A trembling feeling in both knees
And I'm a working John and I'm a working Joe
And I'm doing what I know
For God and the economy
Big brother watches over me
And the state protects and feeds me
And my conscience never leaves me
And I'm loyal to the unions
Who protect me at all levels
Black sunday
(Anderson)
Tomorrow is the one day I would change for a monday
With freezing rains melting and no trains running
And sad eyes passing in windows flimsy
And my seat rocking from legs not quite matching
Got passport, credit cards, a plane that I'm catching
Black sunday falls one day too soon
The taxi that takes me will be moving so quickly
My suitcases is simply too full for the closing
Of pants, shirts and kisses all packed in a hurry
Two best selling paperbacks chosen at random
No sign of sales persons to whom I might hand them
Black sunday falls one day too soon
And down at the airport are probably waiting
A few thousand passengers, overbooked seating
Time long suspended in transit lounge traumas
Connections broken and special branch watching
Conspicuously standing in holiday clothing
Black sunday falls one day too soon
Pick up my feet and kick off my lethargy
Down to the gate with the old mood upon me
Get out and chase the small immortality
Born in the minute of my next returning
Impatient feet tapping and cigarette burning
Homecoming one day too soon
And back at the house, there's a grey sky a tumbling
Milk bottles piling on door steps a crumbling
Curtains all drawn and cold water plumbing
Notepaper scribbles, I read unbelieving
Saying how sorry, how sad was the leaving
One day too soon
Protect and survive
(Anderson)
They said protect and you'll survive
But our postman didn't call
Eight LBS of over pressure wave
Seemed to glue him to the wall
They said protect and you'll survive
E.M.P. took out the radio
And our milkman didn't call
Flash blinded by the pretty lights
Didn't see his bottles fall
Or feel the warm black rain arrive
Big friendly cloud builds in the west
And our dust men haven't called
They left the dual carriageway
At a hundred miles an hour
A tail wind chasing them away
And in deep shelters lurk below
Subregional control
Who sympathise but cannot help
To mend your body or your soul
Self appointed guardians of the race
With egg upon their face
When steady sirens sing all clear
They pop up, find nobody here
And so I watch two new suns spin
Our paper man doesn't call
Burnt shadow printed on the road
Now there's nothing there at all
They said protect and you'll survive
Batteries not included
(Anderson)
Six o'clock in the morning
Wake up by the bed
There sits a new japanese toy
And I like it!
See the name on the wrapping
Can't read yet but I know
It's made for me, lucky boy!
And I want it!
Lights that flash, wheels that go 'round
Digital display
Fresh silicon chips to enjoy
And I need them!
Where's the batteries?
Where's the batteries?
Sitting silent and empty
Wish I could breathe life
In my new friend who's terribly still
And I like him!
Just like me, perhaps he's hungry
Six volts make him smile
And twelve volts would probably kill
How I like him!
"Daddy, where's the batteries?
I can't find my batteries
There's no batteries..."
Where's the batteries?
Where's the batteries?
Seven o'clock in the morning
They find me by the bed
With my friend, the japanese toy
I am with him!
Mommy, Daddy, can't see you, hear you
Batteries not included in this little boy
Where's my batteries?
Where's my batteries?
Uniform
(Anderson)
See black, see yellow with little notebooks drawn
See grey stripes bowling down the street
Silver streaks and T-shirts so precisely torn
Strange foreign chaps in white bed sheets
Uniforms
Uniforms
See golden halo'd men of high renown
Prance to the politician's beat
Well tailored in unswerving elegance
With shoes by Gucci on their feet
Uniforms
Uniforms
How do you know who the hell you are?
Wake up each day under a different star
Dressed to the nines, meet yourself going home
Like a clone, smartly dressed in your pressed uniform
Uniforms
Uniforms
White battle dress on green pitch, proud eleven
Beneath the swelling box so neat
The teeming millions of the future fly
The spinning cricket ball to cheat
They're all uniform
Uniform
4.W.D. (low ratio)
(Anderson)
Met a man just the other day, said his name was Jim
Boy, won't you take a look?
Got a car for you, it's a real steal, cleaned it right down
New brakes, clutch and here's the hook!
Yes, it's a four wheel drive (low ratio)
Four wheel drive
Four wheel drive (low ratio)
Four wheel drive
Cash to Jim, I took it home through the deep mud
Plugged happy as a boy in sand
Fitted wide tyres, spotlight, a winch as well
And some brush bars up front to complete the plan
Now it's really a four wheel drive (low ratio)
Four wheel drive
Four wheel drive (low ratio)
Four wheel drive
Take you down to the edge of town where the road stops
We start to hold the ground
Well, I'm blessed! Got traction in a special way
Hold the roll bar, slide back, feel me pull it 'round
Let me show you my four wheel drive (low ratio)
Four wheel drive
Four wheel drive (low ratio)
Four wheel drive
The pine marten's jig
(Anderson)
Instrumental track
And further on
(Anderson)
We saw the heavens break
And all the world go down to sleep
And rocks on mossy banks
Drip acid rain from craggy steeps
Saw fiery angels kiss the dawn
Wish you goodbye 'till further on
Will you still be there further on?
And troubled dynasties
Like legions lost, have blown away
Hounds hard upon their heels
Call to their quarry, wait and play
Before the last faint light has gone
Wish you goodbye 'till further on
Will you still be there further on?
The angry waves grow high
Cut icy teeth on northern shores
Brave fires that flicker, cough
Give way to winds through broken doors
And with the last line almost drawn
Wish you goodbye 'till further on
Will you still be there further on?