An introduction to
"Warchild"
The 'Warchild' album was released in
1974 and was the result of a filmproject. The basic
theme of the film would have been: the possible
choices to be faced after death and was in that sense
a continuation of the so heavily criticized 'A
Passion Play'. Rees (10, p. 64) states, that the main
characters in the abandoned film "were to have
been the not insignificant personifications of God
and The Devil, with the possible controversial
premise that somehow their two roles might be
interchangeable!", or, as Ian Anderson has put
it: "I was trying to say that it's not
necessarily always the case that God is good and the
Devil is bad. God was not averse to turning people
into pillars of salt, whereas the Devil has often
given people a good time, with the odd Pagan festival
here and there! I'm not a Satanist or anything like
that, but it seemed like an interesting concept for a
film. The album dealt with similar ideas, but without
the film to back it up it seemed sensible to wash
over the concept and let the music stand on it's own.
The music was initially built around the film, so the
songs had to be constructed in more orthodox lenghts
as opposed to the lengthy Passion Play
structure" (10, p. 64). "The overall theme
of 'Warchild' is that all of us have a very
aggressive instinct which is something we're
occasionally able to use for the betterment of
ourselves. At other times, aggression at its worst is
used as a very destructive element. When it's not at
its worst it remains merely comical. I don't think
that aggression is such an evil thing."(11).
(From: Circus Raves Magazine, vol.
1# 9, November 1974.
The integral text of this article can be found on Dave
Gerber's site. Thanks Dave!)
David Palmer had written orchestral
music for a film of which parts were recorded but got
unfortunately lost in the BBC-studios. Martin Barre
wrote some acoustic material. John Cleese was
attracted as 'humor advisor', Sir Frederick Ashton
for the choreography and Bryan Forbes as director.
However there were severe problem getting the
financial means together and when the American film
industry was approached for financial support they
made so many severe conditions, that Ian - partly
because the new American tour was about to start -
called the project off. Warchild originally was meant
as a soundtrack album. The album was a return to the
single song format. Two songs were added from the
aborted Château d'Herouville sessions: 'Only
Solitaire' and 'Skating Away On The Thin Ice Of The
New Day'.
The album itself was very well sold and
got a reasonable press reaction. The Warchild tour
was very succesfull and continued through most of
1975. A single was drawn from the album, 'Bungle In
The Jungle', which became to Ian's surprise a big hit
in the USA!
A concert poster from the WarChild
tour announcing Jethro Tull's gig at the Los Angeles
Forum. John Glasscock's band Carmen was the
supporting act. John would join Jethro Tull as a bass
player one year later.
In the introduction to the 'Aqualung' we
described contradictional elements in Ian's music and
stage presentation. Among other things we have seen
his first original compositions as acoustic-oriented
music, and the possibility of his themes deriving
meaning from historical context. We have seen his
sardonic humor combined with serious, sometimes even
moralizing statements (both in plain and in symbolic
verselines). At this point in his artistic
development he is both entertainer and critic - both
insightful and tastelessly vulgar. And he claims that
his stage presence is his physical manifestation of
all of this. Is it possible to link all aspects of
his music? Is it possible to place all aspects of
performance and composition into one framework that
will reconcile the contradictions? And can a
framework be found to place the music in a historical
context? I think the answer is found in Ian's
re-invention of the 'minstrel-like' jester, that
comes to the fore in his lyrics, in his music (esp.
in the acoustic, ballad-like songs) and in his stage
persona as well.
The figure of the minstrel as he is
commonly shown is misleading. The languid lute-player
in the Swan Lake suit was not the representative of
his craft in the fourteenth century; rather we should
think of the sly jester of, say, Shakespeare plays,
sardonic, irreverent, plebeian-oriented, outrageously
subversive (Lloyd, 111). The evolution of the image
of the minstrel in the music and in the stage antics
of Jethro Tull is essential to placing the music into
the kind of historical context that will allow
insight into its apparent paradoxes. 'Warchild' was
the first album to consciously make the connection
between Tull and the court jester.
Ian recognized this album as marking the
time when the band "came together" in terms
of sound, and also in terms of the relationship
between the live show and the music (Anderson 7-8).
Hardy sums this up rather succinctly: "In 1974
the group returned to performing their peculiar brand
of rock, theater, and puerile comedy" (237). But
this time around, the stage show was brighter and
happier, and the band members were dressed in
colorful costumes (with Ian's costume lurking ever
closer to the mideval) (Sims 12). Anderson describes
the lyrics to Warchild as suggestive and not
definitive. He also reasserts that his process of
creation is an exploratory process of self-awareness
and self-evaluation. Having recently emerged from the
successes of two U.S. number 1 albums, (the second of
which, Passion Play, received more than its share of
criticism) he was disillusioned about the life of the
rock star. In watching his band spend their newfound
wealth, (most bought houses in the country or cars)
he asserts that he was reminded of "all the
things [I] despise about all the other rock
performers" (Sims, 12). The lyrics on this album
not only present the oblique cultural criticisms of
the laughing jester, but there also is the first
evidence of the bemoaning of the lack of a sense of
history and place in the modern world.
Annotations
WarChild
WarChild seems to be an
anti-war song. The word WarChild seems to
bemoan the fact that such young men are taken
away to die in battle. The song sarcastically
glosses over war with phrases like "bright city mile", (lit
up by explosions) "all
of the pleasure and none of the pain", "dance the days and
dance the nights away",
(sure, war is all fun & games) and "let me dance in your
teacup and you shall swim in mine", (as
though they still stop for tea during war --
see also the sound effect in the beginning: "would you
like a cup of tea, dear?").
The comical (to me anyway) explosion sound
effects behind the music heighten the sarcasm
of the premise. The final verse seems to say
that even though we mean well defending a
country at war, we overdo it ("open your windows and
I'll walk through your doors") and
then overstay our welcome ("let me live in your
country, let me sleep on your shores"). This
may have been a criticism of America's
participation in Vietnam, but I don't know if
Ian was concerned with that at all -- he was
more concerned with England, in general.
* Ian MacFarland
It is very easy to look at War Child as a comment on the military exploits of our various governments, coming on the heels, as it did, of America’s exploits in Vietnam. This view is supported by the title of the album itself, along with such songs as “Queen and Country,” the title of which is a reference to the loyalties expected of a soldier in Great Britain. But closer consideration reveals a conflict nearer to home, and when War Child is taken in the larger context of other Tull albums, a picture of the daily warfare that working men and women everywhere wage against the drudgery of life makes more
sense.
Anderson’s lyrics are often words of rebellion; in his earlier albums against the arbitrary justice of his family (as in “Son,” “Back to the Family,” and “For a Thousand Mothers” for example), but already in Benefit, we see the target of his displeasure starting to move toward the duplicity of society, as in “Sossity, You’re a Woman.” Though in “Sossity,” Anderson criticizes the deceptive face society puts on for the world, his target gradually changes to the daily defeats we all experience in the workaday world of the office. His criticism of society in general reached a high point in Thick as a Brick, but developed into some of his most pointed criticism of the work place through the lyrics in War Child. (Though this theme continues in later albums, in such songs as “Pussy Willow,” “Working John, Working Joe,” “The Clasp,” and most obviously in “Black Sunday” where the anticipation of the return to work spoils all pleasure he may obtain from the last day of the weekend.)
Anderson always displays a distrust of the culture of money and anger at what has amounted to white-collar enslavement. The voice in the title track is that of the faceless corporate officer taking control of the lives of his employees (“I’ll take you down.”) The “bright city mile” refers to the commercial district of any large city of the world, a place that is completely dedicated to the generation of wealth, at the expense of the common citizen. It is a place that is open for business 24/7, a place that is bright with ever-burning lights.
Though this is the voice of the corporation owner in War Child, the song is clearly addressed to those of us who have no choice but to support this capitalist structure. As the people who make this structure work, we dare not show our dissatisfaction with it. The first transformation forced upon us by society is “to powder [our] sweet face[s] and paint on a smile.” Though we suffer under the daily grind of the workplace, be that office (Anderson’s favorite target) or factory, we are not permitted to show our displeasure. We must pretend that we are happy with our lot.
The explosions and games referred to in the next line are the goals of corporations. No matter how damaging the consequences of corporate wealth creation are, “you will join my explosion,” War Child, and you will “play with my games.” The explosion refers not only to the destructive nature of our industrial products, but also to the unbridled growth of corporations, as they invade ever more areas of all our lives. And we are required to use (“play with my games”) the products our corporations produce. This seems to be more relevant today than ever, as we realize how little choice we actually have when purchasing products that may have chemical components that are harmful to us or to our environment. Though there are safe alternatives, many cannot afford to use them or cannot find them in the stores we shop in, and the larger corporations have done everything they can to crush opposition to their own goods.
“And, you, Warchild, will dance,” says the corporate world. “You will ‘dance the days, and dance the nights away.’” The basic message here is that as long as the corporate world goes on 24/7, so will the warchild.
Unlike in an actual war, there is no way to get off the merry-go-round. You can’t surrender no matter what you are willing to give up; you must continue to produce (“no unconditional surrender, no armistice day”). In a war, the soldier can surrender, and though he ends up in a POW camp, the fighting is at least over. But not in the business world. There is no way out, no calling it quits. In the most scathing criticism of “War Child,” Anderson observes that the owner of all this will die contented. He alone has the life of leisure, while taking even the grave of this poor worker who has given his life to put the owner in the lap of luxury. “You ‘bring me water,’ supplying my needs, while I’ll ‘give you wine,’” in this context a mere opiate to keep the worker in a state where he cannot rebel.
The notion of the tea-cup in the next line is especially revealing, as it refers back to the dialog at the beginning of the song. Here, we hear a common, domestic exchange, as a wife prepares breakfast for her husband. The offer of a cup of tea is the offer of a small bit of comfort, which the husband cannot accept, because he’ll “be late for the office.” The corporate officer will “dance in your tea-cup,” smashing what happiness the employee has, while at the same time requiring him to “swim in mine,” a reference to the relative size of the cups. Corporate tea-cups are large enough to swim in, and likely drown in as well.
Though the worker will try his best to meet his tormenter half way (“open your windows”), this is not enough. The corporation ignores this gesture of welcome and walks in “through your doors,” appropriating at this point not only the grave of the worker, the small bit of happiness he may have in sharing breakfast with his wife, but now his home as well. And in a final shot, corporations begin to take over the whole country, ironically true thirty years later in post-9/11 America, where we have seen corporations doing everything they can to usurp the place of a national government, and seemingly with the blessing of that government.
But in the face of all this, as Anderson presciently saw long ago, we are helpless. We are still forced to dance to the tune called by the giant and unassailable corporations. We are all the War Child, dancing our days and nights away.
* Bruce Knoll
Queen And Country
Ever since 'Thick As A
Brick', we see how in the lyrics of Ian
Anderson more and more historical references,
images and notions are applied. In 'Queen And
Country' he uses the image of sailors who
sail the seas to obtain "gold
and ivory, rings of diamonds, strings of
pearls". The
verselines "for
Queen and Country" (and) "it's been this way for
five long years since we signed our souls
away"
suggest that these men signed a Royal Navy
contract. I suspect, that the historical
image Ian applies here is that of the
Elizabethan era, when the Royal Navy, under
the command of Sir Walter Raleigh, raided the
coasts of Central and South America,
committing piracy esp. in the Caribbean and
establishing strongholds. These precolonial
expeditions would over time lead to what was
later to be called The British Empire. At
first these actions were aimed at weakening
the hegemony of the Spanish fleet in in this
part of the world and were very lucrative
since the Spanish fleet transported large
amounts of gold and silver that was stolen
from Inca's, Aztecs and other Indian nations
to Spain.
The whole song is
written from the sailors' point of view. They
have little to choose since they "signed
their souls away" "for
five long years" at
least. Temptations and amusement have to
wait, duty comes first: "but we all
laugh so politely and we sail on just the
same". In
the words of the sailors the establishment is
criticised: "with
the spoils of battles won" the
government and others "can
have their social whirl" and
finance their policy: "they build schools and
they build factories". The
sailors take all the risks ("hold our heads up to
the gun") during
"the long
dying day" (there
is a double entendre here: 'dying' refers to
the nearing end of the day but also to the
loss of men). They face harsh conditions
aboard and do the dirty work that the
establishment profits from and as long as
they do so they "remain
their pretty sailor boys".
* Jan Voorbij
I think there might be
a bit more to this song. There seems to be a
little parallel between these sailors and a
band on the road. 'It's been this way for
five long years, since we signed our souls
away'. When Ian wrote this song Jethro Tull
had been touring for about five years.
'Schools and factories' were being built with
their tax money, while the band were abroad
for Queen and country. As many other fellow
rock stars they were advised to live in exile
and settle on the continent to avoid the
British taxman. Eventually they missed their
Mum's jam sarnies so dearly that they ran
back to Mother England, even if it meant they
had to brake off their recordings in the
'Chateau d'Isaster'. This took place shortly
before the War Child project, so I thought
there might be a little link here. What do
you think, could it be that the sailors serve
as a metaphor for the band on tour?
* Jeroen Louis
Sealion
One historical template
that Ian invokes in his critique of American
culture is that of carnival. In 'Time
Passages', George Lipsitz explains that there
are certain forms through which popular
culture can express a common memory, attain a
sense of history, and rework their
traditions. Carnival is one of those forms
(see Lipsitz 14). The carnival is
characterized by: passions of plenitude,
revelry, free speaking, hearty laughter and
most importantly, the inversion of the social
world and the overturning of convention and
propriety (15). In carnival, there is a
valorization of the street as the place for
creativity and society, and there is a sense
of "prestige from below" (Lipsitz
16). Lipsitz is also concerned with use of
the historical templates in pop culture as
possible tools for the attainment of hegemony
(16). Ian Anderson clearly expresses his
opinion on this in the song 'Sea Lion' from
Warchild. 'Aqualung' and 'Cross-Eyed Mary'
have already made clear Ian's attitudes
toward life in the street: he has portrayed
it as brutish and vulgar.
In 'Sea Lion', Ian
calls upon images of the carnival. "You balance the world
on the tip of your nose, Like a SeaLion with
a ball, at the carnival." (and) "You flip and you flop
under the Big White Top". These
invoke some impression of the common
characteristics of carnival. There is
merriment and revelry: "You
wear a shiny skin and a funny hat." But
there is a constant reminder of the presence
of authority: "The
Almighty Animal-Trainer lets it go at
that." And of
course the carnival can't last forever,
because "you
know, after all, the act is wearing thin, As
the crowd grows uneasy and the boos
begin." There
is a possible reference to the reversal of
the social hierarchy and search for hegemony
in the line "So
we'll shoot the moon, and hope to call the
tune."
Shooting the moon, in Hearts, at least, means
accumulating all the losing cards in your
hand. Any one of the cards individually is a
loser, but when all of them come together in
one hand their value is reversed and they
become a winning hand. A dangerous
proposition, but with the proper luck and
skill, it's possible to win the biggest by
losing the biggest. So the line could
possibly imply a search for hegemony (in
"calling the tune") by reversing
the social order ("shooting the
moon"). He comments on the fragility of
the illusion by following with "And make no pin
cushion of this big balloon." The
true message of the song is disdainful and
mocking. He is invoking the image of the
carnival only to ridicule the hopes of
hegemony-through-carnival.
Ian MacFarland comes up
with a totally different explanation and
considers the song as a metaphor for the
Soviet Union:
I have been mulling over is
"SeaLion". It seems to me that
it is about a socialist society, most likely
the USSR as it was back then. The first verse
is about the rise of socialism in Russia, and
those who rode the wave. Socialism started
with Engels and Marx in Germany, and for the
Europeans who latched onto their ideas it was
only a quick hop "over the
mountains" on
their humble "dirty gray
horses" to Russia. But it's
all a charade, they're "sad-glad
paymasters",
they're having fun and making money to boot.
They live in luxury ("ice-cream
castles") and
are in fact masters of capitalism: they make
money ("the super-marketeers
on parade";
supermarkets are the epitome of capitalism,
bigger and cheaper). They make big deals ("golden
handshake") but it
hangs around their neck like an albatross,
marking them as frauds as they exploit the
people for their own agendas ("light
your cigarettes on the burning deck"). But
it's an unstable situation; they may be
lighting their cigarettes, but the deck
they're on is burning. It's so unstable it
may as well be balanced on the tip of the
nose. The rulers are merely SeaLions.
The second verse is about the people. They
simply flop around like morons, being trained
to accept the life you have been given, even
though its a tough life ("whiskers
melting in the noon-day sun").
Notice the leader is a ring mistress, as
Russia is the motherland. But the situation
is unstable: they bark ever-so-slightly at
the trainer'gun, and the act is wearing thin,
as the crowd is growing uneasy and booing.
The stability may as well be balanced on the
nose. Notice one basic tenet of socialism
holds true: both ruler and subject are merely
SeaLions.
The third verse is about the rulers again.
They're proud of how efficiently they've
deceived the people. Their story is a Passion
Play: they've come in as Messiahs for the
people and "saved" them, but it is,
after all, a play, a show put on for the
people. They shoot the moon, win by losing
(as we've seen, in Russia everyone loses and
that's how they're equal; except for the
rulers of course!) and call the tune, call
the shots. But the situation is only as
stable as a balloon pincushion, balanced on
the nose. The rulers are still just SeaLions.
* Ian MacFarland
(Continuation)
* Judson C.Caswell (SCC, vol. 4,
issue 32, December 1993) ; adaptation and additional
information Jan Voorbij and John Benninghouse;
Works Cited:1. Anderson, Ian. "Trouser Press
Magazine." Autodiscography, (Oct. 1982), 1-13.;
2. Densflow, Robin. "Rolling Stone." Jethro
Tull's Ian Anderson Plans a Movie; He'll Play God,
(11/8/73), 14 ; 3. Hardy, Phil and Dave Laing Ed.
Encyclopedia of Rock, New York: Schirmer Books, 1987;
4. Lewis, Grover. "Rolling Stone." Hopping,
Grimacing, Twitching, Gasping, Lurching, Rolling,
Paradiddling, Flinging, Gnawing and Gibbering with
Jethro Tull. (7/22/71), 24-27; 5. Lipsitz, George.
Time Passages. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota
Press, 1990 ; 6. Lloyd, A.L. Folk Song in England.
New York: International Publishers, 1967 ; 7. Sims,
Judith. "Rolling Stone." Tull on Top: Ian
Anderson Speaks His Mind, (3/27/75), 12; 8. Stewart,
Bob. Pagan Imagery in English Folksong. N.J.:
Humanities Press Inc. 1977. 9. Torres, Ben Fong.
"Rolling Stone." Jethro Tull and His
Fabulous Tool, (4/19/69); 10. Rees, David. Minstrels
In The Gallery, A History Of Jethro Tull, Firefly
Publ., Wembley, 1998, 62-67. 11. Gaines, Steve.
"Circus Rraves Magazine", Nov. 1974.
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Introduction 