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October 1973

Dear CREEM Readers:

Having been foolish enough to assign it to myself, I have listened to this goddamned thing ten times, in hopes that I could find at least 23 cogently reversible words to say about it. I found myself totally bamboozled. Other than remarking on some nice hopping-burro rhythms, how I've always wanted to hear Ian Anderson sing 'Rice Is Nice', and the fact that any album with a cover like this (dead ballerina wit blood runnin outa her mouth) is sure to sell like Miracle Pictures of Jesus on gospel radio (big bucks), I have absolutely nothing to say about it. I almost like it, even though it sort of irritates me. Maybe I like it because it irritates me. But that's my problem.

Anyway, I don't have to review it because I'm making bets on the charts instead of writing record reviews this month. I bet a guy that works for Warner-Elektra-Atlantic 50 bucks that Passion Play was gonna be the number one album in the country. I'm gonna win, of course, so I got no problems except one: how to get this dog reviewed. Therefore, in the true tradition of democracy and buck-passing, I leave it to you, the readers, to assess the new Jethro Tull album for CREEM. We don't care whether you like Jethro Tull or not, and this is not a contest. But we're (I'm) sure that you have at least as much to say about J.T. and P.P. as any snootful rock critic. So in as few words as possible, please tell the rest of our readers, (a) why are Jethro Tull, and (b) what is Passion Play about:


P.S. Mail those reviews to me, P.O. Box P-1064, Birmingham, Mich. 48012. (And thanx and a tip of the beanie to Ed Ward, who gave me the bright idea.)