Aqualung, my friend

"Think of the people who blog - it's people who like the sound of their own voice and the internet has provided them the opportunity to sound off in public. They are reminiscent of the fuddy-duddy squadron leaders living in villages outside London who'd be writing to the Times, whining about this and that."

Not my words. That's Mr Ian Anderson, founder, flautist, singer and songwriter of the delightfully idiosyncratic rock group Jethro Tull. He has more to say in an interview to the Economic Times (published on 31 January 2006).

Another bon mot: "I've absolutely no intention of listening to the tittle-tattle and nonsense that gets spouted in chatrooms by so-called fans. They know, as well as I, that they are the train-spotters, the stamp collectors. People who have this obsesson with points of detail, who had their security blankets taken away when they were too small, abandoned babies in a dust heap somewhere. Musicians should never be adversely affected by the criticism of anything less than a first-rate professional journalist who is an expert in the field."

Now, I hold no brief for or against Mr Anderson. In fact, truth be told, I quite admire his musicianship and I've been privileged to attend two of his concerts, albeit when he was not quite in his prime, but by no means past his sell-by date. Certainly not too old to rock 'n' roll. (Unfortunately, I shall be missing his third concert in Mumbai, but for reasons that have nothing to do with this interview.)

There is much truth in what he says, and some exaggeration, and perhaps a touch of unwise pique. Firstly, now that I have recently returned to Blogsville, to be told by someone whose talents I respect that I am - how did he put it? - ah, yes, a narcissistic squadron leader living in a village outside London, is a trifle discouraging.

Do I really like the sound of my own voice? Well, in a manner of speaking, certainly. Not, I hasten to add, at a karaoke night, for I cannot hold anything more than the most basic of tunes. But certainly, I enjoy my own writing, even if I am in something of a minority at the moment. And I do live outside London in what is very much a village in many ways. And, absolutely, one of the selling features of the internet is this facility it offers to all and sundry to "sound off in public".

Am I blogging to satisfy my inner muse? Absolutely. Am I blogging to make the world a better place and to save the trees? Certainly. Would I like a fervent female fan following? Duh, sure. So, score one to Mr Anderson for accuracy.

Score two to Mr Anderson for his eloquence, lucidity and ability to turn a phrase. I like that bit about "abandoned babies in a dust heap". So much more graphic and memorable than a bland comment. Only a British musician would be able to conjure up an image like that and use scathing wit to such effect. Honestly, can you imagine someone from Boyzone or Destiny's Child or any rap singer you care to name being sufficiently fluent to spin off a sentence that has over twenty words in it? (I forbear from giving the exact word count for fear of an accusation of being obsessed with detail.) Well, if they did, nineteen of those words would probably be "Like dude, I mean, fugg it dawg" and so on. About the only other contemporary musician I can think of who is as eloquent is Bono, and he's Irish.

Now Mr Anderson surely does exaggerate when he lumps all us poor bloggers into one sack and then proceeds to metaphorically kick that sack into the Bosphorus. Some of us bloggers, especially novice four-day old ones like yours truly, are really nice human beings after all. Kind to children, dogs and our favourite shoes. But I would excuse his exaggeration as hyperbole, used to make his point and intending nothing personal against me. Especially since I own a fair percentage of his albums, all legally purchased in eco-unfriendly vinyl and later in even more eco-unfriendly plastic, though now converted (legally, I hasten to add) to "green" digital copies.

I would however wonder at his comment about what criticism musicians should and should not listen to. I agree that a musician (or any other creative artist) should and must follow his muse and not allow himself to be held ransom to fickle fandom and cretinous cows who have no taste and appreciation. Having said that, however, an artist must also have a realisation that he does not live by muse alone, and that in a commercial world, he must be aware of what sells and what doesn't and what is liked enough for money to be spent on it and what isn't. And I submit that, in many cases the "professional who is expert in his field" may simply be living in too high a tower, breathing air that is too rarefied to be able to adequately feel the pulse of the populace.

After all, no one would claim that Dan Brown is an artist with words (and Mr Anderson doesn't spare him in the interview either), but it would be equally foolish to deny that his books sell. Mr Brown is probably laughing all the way to the bank, while his critics fret and fume at his incompetence. He has successfully ignored the professionals who are expert in their fields and has harnessed the purchasing power of the train-spotters, the stamp collectors. Sad, but true.

(Entirely by the way, I applaud Mr Anderson's taste in literature, for he names John Le Carre as one of his favourite authors - he's one of mine too.)

So, what I think it boils down to is, can you be creative and successful without compromising your artistic scruples and integrity? I think Mr Anderson has shown that you can; but I also think that there are many more who can't. Kudos to Mr Anderson. Long may he rock and roll.

[I just bethunk me that a blogger who genuinely enjoys the sound of his voice would now be a podcaster.]