Whatever Ian Anderson is sprinkling on his porridge is working. Curious Ruminant is the third Jethro Tull album since he resurrected the name for 2022’s The Zealot Gene. Calling that album and its follow-up, 2023’s RökFlöte, a late-career hot streak seems a little unbecoming for a someone as donnish as Anderson, but it suggested there was a renewed vigour or underlying urgency to the 70-something frontman. Or maybe both.
That vigour is evident on the latest release, another great album from a band in the autumn of their career. Its two predecessors presented a relatively tough version of Tull, with some prominent guitar lending them a modern edge. But Curious Ruminant heads off down a different path.
The guitars are still here, courtesy of new member Jack Clark, who dances around Anderson’s vibrant, vivid flute playing on Puppet And The Puppet Master and adds both colour and two impressive solos to the vivid title track.
But elsewhere, greater space is afforded to the accordion, provided by keyboard player/multi-instrumentalist John O’Hara. He weaves in and out of The Tipu House and the Macbeth-referencing Dunsinane Hill, and lends a Celtic air to Savannah Of Paddington Green, the latter finding Anderson addressing urban growth, climate change and the passage of human time. It lends Curious Ruminant the same rustic feel as Songs From The Wood or Heavy Horses – not a spiritual successor, but certainly cut from the same woad-dyed tunic.
Disappointingly, the abum title isn’t a sly synonym for ‘Nosy Cow’
Of course, any Tull album is a benevolent dictatorship with Anderson as President For Life, and it’s his voice, flute and words that define the band. What the former lacks in the acrobatic theatricality of old, his words make up for in vividness.
Disappointingly, the abum title isn’t a sly synonym for ‘Nosy Cow’ – the ruminations of the title are more meditative. Over Jerusalem is a prime example: a twisting drone’s eye view of the ancient city that expresses both love for the region and sadness at its current situation.
The sole disappointment here is penultimate track Drink From The Same Well. At 16 minutes, it’s the longest Tull song since the mid-70s; but there are few twists, turns or surprises to justify its running time. Anderson conceived it years ago as a collaboration with Indian bamboo flautist Hariprasad Chaurasia, and it still bears the whiff of new age meditation retreats.
Thankfully it’s followed by Interim Sleep, a genuinely moving spoken-word piece that finds the singer considering the possibility of existence and reunion after a bereavement. Autobiographical? He says not, but it reaffirms that sense of urgency that surrounds both the man and his band.
Curious Ruminant is on sale now via InsideOut.
