STAND UP

When Ian Anderson decided to go solo, and abandon the group format following This Was, merely surrounding himself with virtual session musicians, albums like Stand Up should have prepared us for what lay ahead. Always charming vocals, quirky tunes, and lively flute, but cold meat on the bones, control substituting for fluidity, priceless arrangements instead of precious songs, perhaps peaking on Benefit, or arguably, Aqualung, before teetering off into vague projects and idiosyncratic obsessions that only fans could hang on to the caravan for.

Stand Up still seems to carry some of that original band flavour, a whiff of the ghost of Abrahams still pervading the atmosphere, though without the warmth or truth that Mick could bring to the party. Ian is a national treasure, but he who holds the winged joy does the winged life destroy.