Post by JTull 007 on Dec 27, 2023 2:13:54 GMT
A Word to the Wise LINK On tour with the rock of ages
There's something timeless in Jethro Tull's annual Christmas cathedral tour,
writes George Pitcher GEORGE PITCHER DEC 22, 2023
Every Christmas for the past 18 years or so, I’ve helped to organise and played
a cameo role in a seasonal benefit gig for English cathedrals by the legendary
prog-to-folk-rock band Jethro Tull.
This week we were in East Yorkshire, playing the Minsters of York and Beverley.
Some years ago, Tull’s founder and leading light Ian Anderson invited me to play
a more theatrical role, as what he calls the Band’s “Field Chaplain”,
and I’ve donned tailcoat and top hat, leggings and sparkly codpiece and pixie boots
to complement my dog collar. We tell a gag or two and I enforce audience discipline
in a jocular manner with my knobbed cane.
I look after the the cues for the local clergy to offer a prayer.
And I deliver a Nativity blessing that’s integrated with the musical climax of the evening.
That’s an unusual brief for a vicar and quite a mixed task.
This year I rocked a jig with (I think) a flame-haired Irish dancer well above my pay-grade,
gave a shout-out for a terminally ill audience member and his lovely family,
conducted the sing-along for special guest Marc Almond and attached flashing mistletoe
to the codpiece. All in a day’s duties for a Field Chaplain.
A different perspective
As well as raising much-needed funds for our stretched cathedrals and spreading
some Christmas cheer, it’s an unusual opportunity for a priest to observe the
Church of England from a different perspective, from behind a mask of a character
that’s somewhere between Mr Anderson’s butler and Fagin.
It occurs to me that there’s three things I learn afresh about Christmas on these
tours and they’re to do with familiarity, worship and travel.
The familiarity is naturally to do with the friendly intimacy within the band and
its crew and with their audience. But I mean it also in its other definition, of close
acquaintance and knowledge of something that is repeated, in this case like a ritual.
Tunes of times gone by
Some of the songs performed were composed over half a century ago.
The fans don’t come to hear latest hits. They come to hear again, together,
the long familiar tunes of times gone by, in many cases the times of their youth.
They know these songs intimately and they want to hear them again.
The same goes, I’m sorry to say, for some of the gags. But, like pantomime,
they’re there as part of the familiar ritual, not just indulged by the audience but looked
forward to. I even get lobbied by punters: “I hope you’re doing the codpiece routine again!”
It goes without saying that this plays to the routine of Christmas that so many of us enjoy.
Many in the audience have been to several of these shows now. They want it to be “the same”.
It reminds me that it’s not the originality of Christmas but its constancy
that’s important – carols, crackers, plum pudding, but also the consistency of its story,
the never-ending cycle of the same that is comforting (as in comfort and joy).
Greater idolatries
The second lesson is about worship. Yes, there are super-fans who “worship” the band.
I often hear it said in the crowd that someone “idolises” Ian Anderson. We shouldn’t
take this too seriously; Anderson isn’t running a cult and, anyway, there are very many
greater idolatries to be found in Advent in, for instance, the retail industries.
And that’s before we get to the false gods of booze and Christmas reality TV.
But the point I want to make is more positive than that. There is a certain adulation of a
famous rock band in performance, but put the show in a 1,400-year-old gothic cathedral
and something else happens - the light-show running up the medieval columns,
the dark and eyeless windows looking down as they have for centuries.
There is something bigger and more welcoming going on than this evening of a bit of
rock-n-roll fun and its fund-raising. The perspective of that sometimes feels infinite,
though not scary. It’s like everyone who comes and goes is caught in a quietly eternal and loving gaze.
Motorway lodgings
Finally, there’s the travel. There’s no glamour to this rock-star tour.
No after-partying – we’ll do the get-out, then travel to some motorway lodgings
on the way to the next cathedral. I’m not going for the cheap shot of there being
no room at the Holiday Inn. But it does focus attention on journeys at the dead of winters’ nights.
Anyone might think that reminds us of a desperate family under an oppressive regime
finding refuge in an outbuilding for a baby’s birth, or having to flee their country under threat of persecution.
We don’t notice that kind of thing in a cosy Travelodge or on a warm train delayed by Storm Pia.
But, as we catch our reflection in the window, we might just remember them. Again, merry Christmas.
George Pitcher is a visiting fellow at the LSE and an Anglican priest
There's something timeless in Jethro Tull's annual Christmas cathedral tour,
writes George Pitcher GEORGE PITCHER DEC 22, 2023
Every Christmas for the past 18 years or so, I’ve helped to organise and played
a cameo role in a seasonal benefit gig for English cathedrals by the legendary
prog-to-folk-rock band Jethro Tull.
This week we were in East Yorkshire, playing the Minsters of York and Beverley.
Some years ago, Tull’s founder and leading light Ian Anderson invited me to play
a more theatrical role, as what he calls the Band’s “Field Chaplain”,
and I’ve donned tailcoat and top hat, leggings and sparkly codpiece and pixie boots
to complement my dog collar. We tell a gag or two and I enforce audience discipline
in a jocular manner with my knobbed cane.
I look after the the cues for the local clergy to offer a prayer.
And I deliver a Nativity blessing that’s integrated with the musical climax of the evening.
That’s an unusual brief for a vicar and quite a mixed task.
This year I rocked a jig with (I think) a flame-haired Irish dancer well above my pay-grade,
gave a shout-out for a terminally ill audience member and his lovely family,
conducted the sing-along for special guest Marc Almond and attached flashing mistletoe
to the codpiece. All in a day’s duties for a Field Chaplain.
A different perspective
As well as raising much-needed funds for our stretched cathedrals and spreading
some Christmas cheer, it’s an unusual opportunity for a priest to observe the
Church of England from a different perspective, from behind a mask of a character
that’s somewhere between Mr Anderson’s butler and Fagin.
It occurs to me that there’s three things I learn afresh about Christmas on these
tours and they’re to do with familiarity, worship and travel.
The familiarity is naturally to do with the friendly intimacy within the band and
its crew and with their audience. But I mean it also in its other definition, of close
acquaintance and knowledge of something that is repeated, in this case like a ritual.
Tunes of times gone by
Some of the songs performed were composed over half a century ago.
The fans don’t come to hear latest hits. They come to hear again, together,
the long familiar tunes of times gone by, in many cases the times of their youth.
They know these songs intimately and they want to hear them again.
The same goes, I’m sorry to say, for some of the gags. But, like pantomime,
they’re there as part of the familiar ritual, not just indulged by the audience but looked
forward to. I even get lobbied by punters: “I hope you’re doing the codpiece routine again!”
It goes without saying that this plays to the routine of Christmas that so many of us enjoy.
Many in the audience have been to several of these shows now. They want it to be “the same”.
It reminds me that it’s not the originality of Christmas but its constancy
that’s important – carols, crackers, plum pudding, but also the consistency of its story,
the never-ending cycle of the same that is comforting (as in comfort and joy).
Greater idolatries
The second lesson is about worship. Yes, there are super-fans who “worship” the band.
I often hear it said in the crowd that someone “idolises” Ian Anderson. We shouldn’t
take this too seriously; Anderson isn’t running a cult and, anyway, there are very many
greater idolatries to be found in Advent in, for instance, the retail industries.
And that’s before we get to the false gods of booze and Christmas reality TV.
But the point I want to make is more positive than that. There is a certain adulation of a
famous rock band in performance, but put the show in a 1,400-year-old gothic cathedral
and something else happens - the light-show running up the medieval columns,
the dark and eyeless windows looking down as they have for centuries.
There is something bigger and more welcoming going on than this evening of a bit of
rock-n-roll fun and its fund-raising. The perspective of that sometimes feels infinite,
though not scary. It’s like everyone who comes and goes is caught in a quietly eternal and loving gaze.
Motorway lodgings
Finally, there’s the travel. There’s no glamour to this rock-star tour.
No after-partying – we’ll do the get-out, then travel to some motorway lodgings
on the way to the next cathedral. I’m not going for the cheap shot of there being
no room at the Holiday Inn. But it does focus attention on journeys at the dead of winters’ nights.
Anyone might think that reminds us of a desperate family under an oppressive regime
finding refuge in an outbuilding for a baby’s birth, or having to flee their country under threat of persecution.
We don’t notice that kind of thing in a cosy Travelodge or on a warm train delayed by Storm Pia.
But, as we catch our reflection in the window, we might just remember them. Again, merry Christmas.
George Pitcher is a visiting fellow at the LSE and an Anglican priest