Of all the albums released in the amazingly fruitful ’68-’71 ‘progressive rock’ period, it is Jethro Tull’s third album, ‘Benefit’, that stands out for me. Put this unique record on the turntable and immediately a foggy, other-worldly atmosphere envelopes the room. I’ve never sussed whether it’s the restrained production with it’s dusty, of-the-past feel, or the minor-keyed, alternatively dramatic, sardonic, loving and reminiscing songs, that give the record this unique sound. All I know is that Tull never quite managed it again, and went on to make a barrowload of albums that only occasionally hinted at this early quality and, for the most part, justified the critical barracking that beset them thereafter.

The opener, ‘With You There To Help Me’, gets directly to the heart of the matter. Essentially a love song in waltz time, it starts with a delightful, acoustic-backed flute melody and double-tracked vocals intoning a lyric of the utmost sadness. The regular bursts of dated-but-blistering progressive rock guitar add awesome dynamic contrast, as does the optimistic, major key chorus, but it’s a feeling of melancholy that ultimately pervades. Listen to the tremendous, repeated crescendi that close the song, each time climaxed with searing guitar work. Class. ‘Nothing To Say’ comes next, and that eyes-to-the-floor feel continues. This man Anderson has a few chips on his shoulder, and his bitterness is emphasised by a guitar line in the chorus that threatens to fly off the upper frets and embed itself in your spine. ‘Alive And Well And Living In’ provides a welcome burst of sunshine, but the clouds never quite lift; ‘Son’ sees the storm return. The heaviest track on the album reveals why Anderson is so screwed up and is the most vicious account of the generation gap ever to hit plastic. Don’t be misled by the jaunty acoustic middle section; Dad comes back to menace you very soon afterwards, countering his abuse with the promise that “When you grow up if you’re good we will buy you a bike”. ‘For Michael Collins, Jeffrey And Me’ is just a lovely song, pure and simple, with the by now familiar contrast of uplifting chorus and melancholy verse. Side Two kicks off with ‘To Cry You A Song’, Martin Barre’s showcase with tremendous duel lead axework. Listen also to Cornick and Bunker’s amazing bass and drum accompaniment. Sod Yes and ELP, here is a real muso’s band, that plays real songs with real soul. ‘A Time For Everything’ and ‘Play In Time’ are the album’s least essential tracks, but the former features a great unison guitar and flute lick at the end of each verse and a distinctive, jazzy coda. Good lyric too. In between comes ‘Inside’, a love song atoning life’s simple pleasures with not a single mention of salmon farming. ‘Sossity, You’re A Woman’ closes the record and is Anderson’s ‘Sad Eyed Lady Of The Lowlands’, a beautiful, beautiful song that melts my heart every time I hear it with a perfect organ obligato at its intro and some stunning Nick Drake-like acoustic guitar. But no matter how lovely the song, that foreboding, dank and threatening ambience is always there, like a jarring ache. I’ve never felt anything like this from any other record by anybody.

Look, I know Tull were never the coolest kids on the block, but I would urge anyone to cast aside their prejudices to hear this incredible record. It is still readily available as a Chrysalis CD for about eight quid. If you come to share my enthusiasm, don’t do as I did and waste your readies on the remainder of Tull’s back catalogue. Only ‘This Was’, ‘Stand Up’ and, to a lesser extent, ‘Aqualung’ are worth the bother, but don’t come close to the album under scrutiny here. ‘Benefit’ is the business.