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Yes, we went to see them – again. For me, this was the ninth time since 2005. So now I’ve seen Tull in Australia, UK, USA, Denmark, Norway, and Russia. They seem to like turning up in places where I happen to be.

For some reason, Jethro Tull has reminded me that 12 April was 50 years since good old Yuri Gagarin first broke into space and orbited the earth – in this roomy outfit:

To celebrate, Tull flautist, Ian Anderson, played a duet with Cady Coleman, who is based in the international space station. Ian was in the great city of Perm, Russia, and Cady somewhere in orbit.

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What gets me about this slightly cheesy event is her hair.

For the concert version, click on the second video link in this Russian story.

When I first saw Jethro Tull in Newtown (Sydney) in 2005, after decades of waiting, I was one of the younger members of the crowd, which was full of guts and leather jackets, bald heads and beards (and that was just the women). The story was similar in Aarhus in 2007, although now it looked as though one or two children – or maybe grandchildren – had come along to see these relics. But by Bergen and Oslo in 2010 the crowd had begun to change. More diverse, more women, many more people in their 20s and 30s. In Olso last Sunday I sat in the third row, with a 70-year old man from Copenhagen and his German wife on one side and two hipsters on the other – eyes wide, smiling goofily, bopping, grooving, singing along. And when I looked around me the hipsters were everywhere. And why not? Here is a band that is going stronger than ever after 42 years. A bunch of men well into their sixties, including the guitar idol Martin Barre, who can rock like nothing else. And they slew the crowd, who by the end were standing, dancing, yelling for more at the end.

Now, when are they performing next? Just before SBL

I confess my innermost secret: I am a Jethro Tull fan of more than thirty years. And last night I experienced one of those thrills that come rarely in a person’s life – a Jethro Tull concert. In Bergen, the Jeddah of the north (you know, given that Norway is the Saudi Arabia of the north, as the now defunct Vulgar Marxist puts it, then Bergen is …). Long way to go, I know, just for a concert, but it was worth it, I tell thee, worth it and more. And just to make sure I get the full experience, I am off to see them again when they come to Oslo on Saturday.

One of the nice things about Tull is that they are still around, 42 years after they began back in ’68. No mooning about for me, hoping they might get back together for a reunion concert, or lamenting the death/suicide/overdose of one or another of the band members. Just continuous concerts since the 1960s. Here’s Ian Anderson at the Marquee Club in ’68:

I first got into Tull in the late 1970s, after they had been around for slightly less than a decade and I’m still hooked.

That poster, by the way, is now mine in duplicate. Check out more, much more, at the Jethro Tull website.

J.D. was no larger than an elf, standing at the doorway of our bedroom in Nuuk (Bjarneshus), playing Jethro Tull on a flute with a hessian bag on the end that made a peculiar but pleasant sound. As he played, it looked as though his penis was jumping up and down, since the flute ended and the bag began at that point. I got out of bed and as he walked away, I saw that he was wearing a neat hessian suit.