No. 680 – Thick as a Brick

Performer: Jethro Tull

Songwriter: Ian Anderson

Original Release: Thick as a Brick

Year: 1972

Definitive Version: Any one that has the whole thing.

Thick As a Brick is the longest song on the list, and it’s not even close. Few bands even would attempt a single-song album; Jethro Tull had two. Heck, even the live version of Karn Evil 9, checks in at a pedestrian 35 minutes, compared with this 43-minute opus.

There aren’t many places where a 43-minute song makes for good listening. I take the train to work; I have since I started in 2006. In fact, the train is where I write this here blog most of the time during the week. I started Thick As a Brick as soon as I got on, and I won’t hear the entire thing by the time I get to my destination, because my trip—barring delays—is a half-hour.

But one place where a 43-minute song is useful is the drive through Indiana. Doesn’t matter the destination, direction or route. Basically, aside from Indianapolis, EVERY drive is an endless sea of flat farmland—and uninteresting farm land at that. I’ve been driving in, through and around Indiana for 30 years. I know. I mean, even in Ohio, once in a while you get the odd charred cross at a Ku Klux Klan grand dragon’s home (I-71) or a building that looks like a picnic basket (Rt. 161).

But in Indiana? Until they built a massive windfarm north of Lafayette a couple of years ago, there literally was nothing to look at for dozens of miles at a stretch. This song was a Godsend, because when you start it, by the time it’s done, you’re 50 miles closer to your destination. (I drive fast.) That’s helpful.

One drive through Indiana when I had this song playing particularly stands out. I don’t remember why I was there, but I had been in Cincinnati visiting Scott (a Reds game, most likely). Anyway, I was on I-65 south of Indianapolis, heading home, and I could see the sky getting dark to the northwest as a thunderstorm bore down on me.

I don’t stop during a thunderstorm. I don’t see the point even if it’s a torrential downpour. I’d rather be creeping along at 30, because unless you stop for the duration of the storm, you’re going to have to drive through it at some point. Any time stopped is time delayed, so I figure, you might as well slow it down and just barrel through it.

But this time, as I kept rolling north, my speed was such that I was going to clip the front of it, which sometimes can be the hairiest part of a storm. Then a funny thing happened. At about the time when I should start feeling the wind and having the rain begin to pound on my windshield, the freeway bent around to the east, so instead of going underneath the thunderhead, I curved around the front.

I had angry clouds just overhead and I literally could see the downpour to my left, no more than 100 yards away as the wind began to bend down the trees. But I kept curving around the front of the storm. In my rearview mirror, the sky was black as I could see the storm sweep over the freeway.

Not a single drop of rain hit my windshield.