The unexpected upside of not having set foot inside of a live music venue for eight months has been rediscovering records that I had fallen out of touch with over the years. Sure, plenty of artists have chosen to release new music during the pandemic, but there’s something exhilarating about getting reacquainted with an album that you feel the rest of the universe missed out on the first time around.

For example, when the opportunity arose to speak with Martin Barre about his latest project commemorating 50 years of Jethro Tull, my mind immediately cited 1989’s “Rock Island” and 1991’s “Catfish Rising” as two works that were unfairly fossilized at a time when the mainstream’s attention was being seized by a certain city in the Pacific Northwest. Having an album come out 14 days before “Nevermind” would be the commercial kiss of death for any band, let alone one whose style was still very much rooted in the classic rock of the 1970s, so the latter never really had a chance.

I asked Barre about that record and more during our recent conversation, and, if you’ve been missing the feel of a crowd as much as I have, maybe his upcoming collection of Tull classics can fill the void until we’re able to see him grace The Sportsmen’s Tavern stage once again.

MNOD: The last time we spoke was in September of 2018 when you were coming to Buffalo on the Roads Less Travelled tour, so it’s great to hear from you again.

MB: I appreciate you getting the word out about the new CD. Yes, at the Sportsmen’s. That’s always a great venue and we hope to get back there soon. Hopefully, it survives, because they’ve always been good to us.

MNOD: How have you fared thus far throughout the pandemic?

MB: I’ve stayed busy. I had a summer off for the first time in 50 years, which was nice, but I’ve still been working on some things. I’ve done a little writing and I’m getting ready to release a DVD around Christmas. I’m never bored. To be able to spend 4, 5, or 6 hours alone with my guitar on any given day has been great, as well.

MNOD: Live music has taken what many consider to be an irreparable hit this year. What would it take for you to get back out on the road at this point?

MB: It would have to be under the right circumstances. Some people have said they won’t tour until there’s widespread immediate testing and others have said that they won’t be doing anything until there’s a vaccine. It’s not a simple yes or no answer, because it’s a complex question. Even if they allow audiences, people are going to be uncomfortable for a long time, so we really need to think about how we’re going to approach getting back to concerts again. Of all the ideas out there at the moment, I haven’t seen one that feels like the solution yet. Venues like the Sportsmen’s are fighting to survive and I wonder if they will.

MNOD: What have you been doing in your downtime?

MB: I play in a table tennis league and I have a robot trainer, which is amazing. I also like running and playing tennis, so I have a lot of hobbies in my spare time. Being able to spend time playing guitar just for fun has been a pleasure.

MNOD: Celebrating 50 years of Jethro Tull in the middle of a pandemic feels anticlimactic, but being able to revisit the band’s catalog in lieu of live music has given me a deeper sense of appreciation for the later albums. How do you feel about the band’s legacy in 2020?

MB: I’d like the band to be remembered for the way it is right now. Our longevity speaks for itself and we always tried to do the right thing. We were polite and we had a work ethic that ensured that there would always be a place for us in the history of rock ‘n’ roll. There was a magazine in the UK that did a poll of the Top 200 prog musicians ever and I think everyone from Jethro Tull made the list at one spot or another. We weren’t the greatest band, but we weren’t the worst, either. Of course, it’s not up to me, because music is such a subjective thing.

MNOD: How did you ultimately decide which songs made it onto the new CD?

MB: Mostly, I went with ones that work really well on stage or ones that the other guys in my band enjoy playing. With Tull, we played to primarily rock audience in the early ’70s, so I wanted songs that have a powerful guitar presence. It ended up being a pleasurable process, because digging back into the catalog was quite fun.

MNOD: “Crest of a Knave,” “Rock Island,” and “Catfish Rising” are a few later works that contain a lot of great material yet often get overlooked. Did you find yourself being surprised at all by songs that you may have forgotten about?

MB: There were a few songs that I was pleasantly surprised to rediscover. The Tull catalog is so vast that I never had to worry about running out of material. The thing about the Tull albums is that they all had something about them to enjoy. When I started playing my solo sets, I would include all Tull, but, later on, I would find the right mixture between Tull classics and my own songs. I started cutting out a few that I didn’t enjoy as much. When we won the Grammy for “Crest of a Knave,” I think everyone knew that the metal category was wrong, but we were honored to get the recognition. The category didn’t matter. That’s the thing about music. When an album is special like that, the genre is unimportant. “Still Loving You Tonight” is a song from “Catfish Rising” that I included on this release, but it’s not a song that was fresh in my mind. I listened to it again for the first time in a long time and enjoyed the guitar parts.

MNOD: Is there a lineup of Jethro Tull that sticks out in your mind as being your favorite?

MB: We never had a bad band. I really liked the lineup with John Glascock on bass, but they were all great in their own way. Of course, I think the band I’m playing with now is the best, but I’m biased.

MNOD: Now that you’ve had some time to go back through the catalog, is there an album that you feel deserves to be reevaluated?

MB: “Under Wraps” is an album that I don’t think got enough credit at the time of its release. The use of electronic drums was a mistake, but there are a lot of good songs on there that I think would have a different feel if re-recorded. The songs were good and the playing was good.

MNOD: You mentioned earlier that you were writing some new music. Are there plans to turn it into something down the line?

MB: Not right now. I won’t go any further with it until early next year, because I’m still waiting to see what happens with everything.

“50 Years of Jethro Tull” will be released on Nov. 6. Do us all a favor and pay for a physical copy.

Visit http://www.martinbarre.com for further details.

“Everything dies, baby, that’s a fact, but maybe everything that dies someday comes back.” – Bruce Springsteen, “Atlantic City” (1982)

In her 1963 book, “Not Quite Posthumous Letter to My Daughter,” author Caitlin Thomas set out to write a manifesto in which every morsel of matriarchal wisdom that her 50-year-old self had accumulated up to that point would be passed on to the next generation. Despite being a product of both its time and situation (i.e. Thomas’s toxic marriage to poet Dylan Thomas), the desire to steer her child in the right direction is something that anyone with daughters can relate to, because she essentially created a survival guide for girls looking to succeed in a world that has yet to universally recognize a woman’s worth outside the home.

I discovered her book as an 18-year-old university student with no expectation of ever getting married or having kids, but, as writer and cartoonist Allen Saunders once said, “life is what happens to us while we are making other plans.” In other words, my days of being single were numbered and everything that I never envisioned for myself ended up filling a void that I never knew existed.

When my wife and I found out that we were going to have a girl earlier this year, my mind began to assemble its own version of Thomas’s book before we even had a chance to process the news with each other. I was as excited as I had been at any other stage of my life and couldn’t wait for her to arrive. There was always the question of why anyone would to choose to have another child given how ugly this country’s political climate has gotten on all sides, but I never bought into that defeatist bullshit.

As parents, we have a duty to introduce our children to the warts-and-all reality of America in hopes that they’ll be inspired enough to learn from the past and continue fighting to make a better future, and I was ready to impart that outlook to my daughter.

Alas, my optimism was fleeting, because my wife experienced what the doctors referred to as a “late-term miscarriage,” and, on August 28, was put in the unenviable position of having to fully deliver a baby that had no heartbeat.

In the immediate aftermath, she had people reach out with their condolences, but the truth is that there was no way to adequately express how we were all feeling at that moment. The truth is that no amount of “It’s not your fault” or “I had a miscarriage, too” was going to make her feel better, because the image of a lifeless yet fully-formed baby girl named Cadence was still so fresh in our minds. People are often unsure of what to say when it comes to consoling someone in a time of crisis, so I don’t blame anyone for trying to make her feel as if she wasn’t alone. They tried their best to make a shitty situation less so and we’re eternally grateful for the support.

As for me, I’m sad a lot and find myself unable to get as excited about things as I once did, but I’m hopeful that the tide will turn sooner rather than later.

Like Tony Soprano whacking Febby Petrulio while on a college tour with Meadow, we all crave certain things that make us feel alive, things that make us feel as if we’re existing beyond just the motions of fulfilling our daily responsibilities. For Tony, the thrill of physical altercation does the trick, but, in my case, writing has always been the one thing that external forces can’t take away. While I haven’t felt much like writing during the past month or so, I forced myself to crank this piece out in an attempt to recapture some semblance of normalcy and finally move on to the next chapter.

To everyone out there fearful of what else 2020 can possibly pile on in the next three months, all I can say is what Tony would have said:

Salut!

Calling a funeral home at 3:30 a.m. to arrange the cremation of your 17-week-old daughter is something that no human being should ever have to do, but I did it, and I’m still here. Despite feeling as if I’ll never be the same again, I’ve soldiered on in the face of inscrutable tragedy to reach a place where focusing on both familial and professional responsibilities is no longer an arduous task.

Because of this, there’s no better time than now to get back in the routine of writing on a regular basis. I need it, and I suspect that anyone out there struggling to make it through 2020 unscathed might need it, as well.

Rather than dive into the heavy stuff straight away, I decided to spin off from Rolling Stone’s list of the 500 greatest albums that was updated this week and offer up my own list of 50 that I consider essential. The following list was curated not so much as a representation of “the greatest” as it was a window into my tastes and personality, so don’t expect it to align with every other list you’ve seen.

While there’s no such thing as a definitive list given the level of subjectivity involved, the art of putting one together can be comforting in times of uncertainty.

Here are my “Fab 50” in no particular order:

Led Zeppelin – “Physical Graffiti”

Pink Floyd – “Wish You Were Here”

Pink Floyd – “The Dark Side of the Moon”

Rush – “2112”

John Coltrane – “A Love Supreme”

The Tragically Hip – “Day For Night”

Patti Smith – “Horses”

Van Morrison – “Moondance”

Tori Amos – “Under the Pink”

Roger Waters – “Amused to Death”

Public Enemy – “Fear of a Black Planet”

Todd Rundgren – “Something/Anything”

Black Sabbath – “Heaven and Hell”

Black Sabbath – “Master of Reality”

Megadeth – “Rust in Peace”

Nas – “Illmatic”

Soundgarden – “Superunknown”

Pearl Jam – “Ten”

Neil Young – “Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere”

The Beatles – “The Beatles”

The Who – “Quadrophenia”

Nina Simone – “Nina Simone Sings the Blues”

Miles Davis – “Bitches Brew”

U2 – “The Joshua Tree”

Buckingham Nicks – “Buckingham Nicks”

The Smiths – “The Queen is Dead”

Tool – “Fear Inoculum”

Elton John – “Honky Chateau”

Steven Wilson – “The Raven That Refused to Sing (And Other Stories)”

Lauryn Hill – “The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill”

Yes – “Close to the Edge”

Queensryche – “Operation: Mindcrime”

Kendrick Lamar – “To Pimp a Butterfly”

Joni Mitchell – “For the Roses”

Otis Redding – “Otis Blue: Otis Redding Sings Soul”

REM – “Automatic For the People”

Jackson Browne – “Late For the Sky”

The Cure – “Disintegration”

Warren Zevon – “Warren Zevon”

Smashing Pumpkins – “Siamese Dream”

Steely Dan – “Katy Lied”

Bob Dylan – “Highway 61 Revisited”

Bob Dylan – “Blood on the Tracks”

The Jesus and Mary Chain – “Darklands”

Aretha Franklin – “Amazing Grace”

Kate Bush – “Hounds of Love”

Stevie Wonder – “Innervisions”

The Rolling Stones – “Let it Bleed”

Bruce Springsteen – “Darkness on the Edge of Town”

Pixies – “Surfer Rosa”

“Race and racism continue to be important factors in American life, but we should not reduce every problem facing people of color to race and racism. That’s just part of the overall problem.” – William Julius Wilson

Harvard sociologist William Julius Wilson popularized the term “White Flight” in the mid-20th century as a way to describe the mass migration of white people from the cities to the suburbs. His work in the field was lauded by many and derided by others, but his ideas about poverty, job loss, and the effects of segregation on the Black community remain just as relevant today.

In the ’90s, another “White Flight” of sorts took place when millions of white teenagers flocked to malls across America to score cool points as consumers of hip-hop, a phenomenon that has been analyzed to death by scholars seeking to sum the whole thing up as a form of cultural appropriation. Whether that’s accurate or not isn’t nearly as important as recognizing the link between the exodus of the ’50s and the record sales of the ’90s, because artists such as Wu-Tang Clan, Nas, and Jay-Z were all rapping about conditions that were arguably a direct result of the decay brought about by white people leaving major cities behind. Young, white suburbanites were fascinated by the ghetto concept being marketed to them by record companies, but they had little to no understanding of either the history or long-term implications of said marketing.

I knew plenty of kids growing up whose sole exposure to Black people came from Black Entertainment Television (BET) and the images it disseminated over the airways, which is unfortunate given that a lot of the racial animosity we’re experiencing in 2020 feels as if it’s stemming from decades of separation. You don’t have to be a self-loathing white person to appreciate the fact that we function better as a society when identity politics and racial division aren’t killing us on a daily basis. I shared the above quote from Wilson, because we’ve reached a dangerous peak where everything is viewed through a racial lens regardless of context.

For example, the death of Breonna Taylor was both tragic and preventable, but athletes and celebrities using it to further the narrative that every police officer in America is racist is irresponsible. Sure, it’s natural to want justice in these situations, but jumping to the conclusion that the shooting was racially motivated when it’s known that Taylor’s boyfriend fired his weapon first isn’t productive. Were the cops reckless when returning fire? Probably, but wanting a murder conviction and being able to prove it beyond a reasonable doubt are two totally different concepts.

If anything, this case should prompt people to rethink the execution of “no-knock” warrants and focus on allocating funds toward better police training. Operating under the assumption that all cops are racist is as senseless as thinking that all young, Black males are criminals, but, in a year where little else makes sense, what do you expect from people who wish to let emotions drive policy formation?

However, that isn’t likely to happen, because it doesn’t jell with the media’s ongoing mission to divide and conquer. In Shakespeare’s day, the play was the thing, but, in ours, social media is the thing and Twitter is king. Shaming people for opinions that deviate from the hive and establishing one’s brand through half-baked hot takes is the new normal, so don’t expect things to change any time soon. In fact, the upcoming election cycle will only amplify the hatred, because it’s essentially being framed as a good vs. evil contest despite neither party appearing interested in working together to bring this country back from the hell it has created for itself.

There’s a scene from Paul Thomas Anderson’s “There Will Be Blood” in which Daniel Plainview says “There are times when I look at people and I see nothing worth liking,” and I feel as if 2020 has aligned me with that outlook. I feel it every time I see someone get berated for wanting to send their child back to school. I feel it every time I see someone campaigning for social justice while wearing a Ché Guevara t-shirt. And, lately, I feel it every time I hear someone painting all police shootings with the same black-and-white color scheme, because jumping to conclusions is how destructive myths such as “Hands Up, Don’t Shoot” are born.

The death of intellectual disagreement is real and the American media’s obsession with race has gotten to the point where certain cultural commentators have suggested that white writers should be disallowed from reviewing anything that wasn’t created another white person. If that’s where we’re at as a society, I’m afraid that multiple people have failed us on multiple levels, because I couldn’t imagine not being able to express my appreciation for the work of John Coltrane, Nina Simone, Lauryn Hill, or Colson Whitehead in a written context.

It could just be me, but choosing who can discuss what based on anything other than the strength and and cogency of their work is antithetical to the whole anti-fascist philosophy, don’t ya think?

A few years ago, I got caught up in the belief that music could bring people of all backgrounds together and hatched an idea to write a book geared toward white parents dealing with how to teach their children about hip-hop. My basic premise was that unfamiliarity breeds fear and, if we want our children to learn to respect everyone of all races, creeds, religions, sexual orientations, socio-economic statuses etc., we have to expose them to cultures other than their own in a responsible way. If the only images of people different from themselves our children see are coming from external sources, it’s not difficult to see why rage, unease, and stereotypes persist.

I may still write that book one day, but, if things keep going the way that they’re going, I may be barred from doing so.

Joe Louis Walker has seen some shit. He made a name for himself within the Bay Area music scene when he was just 16-years-old and played alongside luminaries such as John Lee Hooker, Buddy Miles, and Muddy Waters, so, when he speaks his piece on how COVID-19 has decimated the industry, he knows what he’s talking about.

As Walker himself would say, he has “skin in the game” and is fearful of what the touring landscape will look like whenever things begin to resemble “normal” again.

His excellent new album, “Blues Comin’ On,” was released on June 5, but, given the current state of the world, our latest conversation ended up being about more than just songs and solos.

MNOD: How have you been dealing with the quarantine?

JLW: I’ve been dealing with the quarantine a lot better than the shutdown of the touring industry. I don’t take it personally, though, because I’m in the same boat as everyone else. No one has a crystal ball that can tell them when things will ever get back to normal, but hopefully things start to open up a bit soon.

MNOD: Did you feel hesitant at all about releasing a new album in the middle of a pandemic?

JLW: I talked it over with my record label, but you can only play the hand that you’re dealt. People need music in these times and I’ve had a lot of time to really get familiar with these songs during the past five years. Normally, the record would come out and I’d be playing a ton of shows, but now drive-in shows appears to be the immediate future. I’ve got a couple coming up in Plattsburgh, NY as well as in Derry, NH at a place called the Tupelo Music Hall. It’s great to have something to look forward to, because most shows were postponed and all of the festivals were pushed back until next year. The only thing about that is no one really knows what this planet is going to look like next year. It’s discouraging to read the article about Live Nation in Rolling Stone this morning, because what they’re proposing is terrible.

MNOD: “Feed the Poor” is a stunning way to open the record. Do you feel as if a lot of these songs fit the current social climate?

JLW: I think it definitely fits the time now. A friend of mine writes poetry and he wrote this one when he was 19-years-old. I read it and he was talking about people lying in the gutter and I said, ‘This is deep.’ I don’t like to get too preachy with songs, because I’m not Bob Geldof. I like him, but I’m not him. B.B. King had a song called “Help the Poor,” so he wanted to do his own version of that.

MNOD: You have an impressive lineup of musical guests on this album. How difficult was it to get everyone’s schedules to align?

JLW: That was the hardest thing to do. Everyone was busy with their own projects such as plays and having books written about them, but I was fortunate to get everyone to work with me. I had Dion and John Sebastian, who are both in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. I had Charlie Harper, Waddy Wachtel, and Mitch Ryder. Everyone who played on this record trusted me with the music and I was able to accentuate what each artist does best. The point wasn’t for me to bring them in just to play solos, because I wanted to have a song that fit each style without one person dominating the music. I remember playing with Billy Gibbons and Eric Gales before and thinking why should all three guys solo when one guy could get both feet wet and really dig in. Waddy was almost like a third producer on this album, because he would always help out whenever I had an issue with sound or technology.

MNOD: Was there anyone that you hadn’t worked with before?

JLW: I had never worked with Carla Cooke before. I had heard the name before. but, when I heard her sing, she sounded so good. She made me sound good.

MNOD: Given how volatile society has become as of late, do you feel as if music will play a significant role in the movement again?

JLW: I don’t know. I mean, music has always played a role in social movements. We had ‘We Shall Overcome’ and Bob Dylan singing before Dr. King’s speech in 1963. We had Stephen Stills with ‘For What It’s Worth.’ The difference between then and this moment is the fact that we can’t have concerts. Back then, we had events like the No Nukes Concert with Jackson Browne, Bruce Springsteen, and Bonnie Raitt to galvanize people, but today we can’t even gather together as a group due to the pandemic. Not being able to come together is terrible. Things are never going to be the same. We can’t even rehearse or do anything together. So many of these music clubs aren’t going to come back from this and that’s sad. Drive-In shows are the thing at the moment, but there are 200 drive-ins in the United States and Live Nation wants the buy them all and monopolize. They want to pay musicians 20% less, which is a way to kick people when they’re down. Back in San Francisco when I was younger, we had venues like the Fillmore Auditorium and Winterland Ballroom. Bill Graham had a vision, but he also had his favorites. You’d see the Grateful Dead one night, then Santana, then Jefferson Airplane, then Bo Diddley. Music has always been able to define a movement, but it doesn’t have the same effect when we can’t gather as a whole group. In San Francisco, we used to set up a flatbed truck with speakers and shut an entire street down almost like a block party. Any musician who says they’re not affected by this is lying, because music is our life and our life is music. My wife is out gardening right now, but you can only do so much gardening before you have to get back to doing what you do. I used to tell a lot of the younger kids I played with that they can’t get upset about things unless they truly have skin in the game. People of all backgrounds need something to come along to get everyone moving in the same direction, which is difficult in this country. You know that there’s going to a jailbreak for gigs once things start to open up, because, if Live Nation is offering 20% less, there will be someone willing to work for 50% less just to get a gig. People are discouraged right now and it’s pretty scary. We’re not the masters of our own fates. I’m 70-years-old and I’ve never known a situation where everyone had the rug pulled out from under them at the same time.

MNOD: As someone who lived through the protests of the ’60s, are you optimistic that the current uprising will bring about real change?

JLW: I am optimistic, because the young people are dedicated to the cause. They’re sick of the way things are and how the older people in power are leaving them with such a screwed up world. Change isn’t created in a vacuum and it ain’t going to be easy. We have Greta (Thunberg) making her voice heard on climate change and Malala fighting for an education after being shot in the head. They’re not backing down. We had two people, Ahmaud Arbery and George Floyd, get murdered and that’s not something that you can just get out of your head. Bob Marley didn’t become Bob Marley by going to school, he went to the University of Life. John Lennon went to the University of Life. He became who he became, because he played all those crazy places in Hamburg. I know, because I’ve played them, too. People are sick of being kicked around and beaten down. You have a 75-year-old guy pushed to the ground and he’s bleeding out of his ear, and all some people want to talk about is how he might be Antifa. In the ’60s, we had three students get killed in Mississippi for trying to fight against the system, so today’s young people need to stay the course and not get discouraged. How do any of these politicians expect to leave a positive legacy when children are being kept in cages just for being in this country? How can we hold them responsible for not being here legally when they’re just kids? All of these elections come down to fear. There’s always something to be afraid of. How many walls can you build? I hope and pray that young people stay the course and continue to have skin in the game. With 40 Million people out of work, who knows what things are going to look like later on? We have iconic venues like The Troubadour possibly closing for good and people being gassed and shot with rubber bullets for trying to fix a broken system. People need to put their thinking hats on, as John Lennon said, come together and fight the problem. Young people can’t fall for the divide and conquer tactic that so many politicians use.

“Blues Comin’ On” is available now wherever music is disseminated, but do us all a favor and pay for a physical copy.

http://www.joelouiswalker.com