Raveiews from the Fringe
By HuggyDave
Hello again, and welcome back to the vaguely defined Fringe where we look up a the rest of civilisation living successful, financially secure and relatively enjoyable lives and mock. Now, while this may sound very much like sour grapes, indulge me as I discuss the concept of 'sell outs'
Ah yes, it's all starting to fall together now isn't it? In your mind? Only in the realm of music would we decry someone's success and feel betrayed by them making money on the art we love. Alright, there's more to it than that, I know. But let it be known before we go any further that I have no problem with any music that's successful. Even though this is Raveiews from the Fringe , if a band becomes popular, this does not within itself mean that they are sell outs who now and forever will never make a artistically credible album. The charts and the purchasing habits of the mainstream public are nearly impossible to comprehend (this is the same public that bought Michael Bolton after all) and thusly, for an album to be a hit requires a lot more luck than actual focus, much like the quality of any given thing I write.
Most sellouts that I tend to hear about in Rocsoc are usually those where the quality is more questionable than the norm. You know, things like Megadeth's Countdown to Extinction (which I really like), Aerosmith's later albums and especially Metallica's Black Album (and to a lesser extent, Load and Reload too). The thing is, even at their most insultingly populist, most bands that at least began as a serious music outfit keep some of their credibility even if it becomes harder and harder to find it. I'll even defend 90125 and Big Generator by Yes: two of the most populist, abusively catchy and utterly joyous albums to listen to in the 80s.
However, even I have limits, so with a heavier heart than I probably should have, I bring to you good people:
...and then there were three... - Genesis (1978)
The Death of Prog Part 3: The Genesis of a Sellout
Here we are, on the final part of this triple foray into the fetid follies of 1978's rapidly dying prog rock scene, and we're at the final piece in the puzzle, the third big pillar of Progressive Rock that bitterly crumbled and collapsed in on itself. This third catastrophe however is somewhat more tragic and close to my heart than the other two. Because, unlike ELP, which was hilarious, and Yes, which was a mere blip compared to it's follow-up, And then there were three changed everything. None of this will make the slightest bit of sense if you don't know who Genesis is so here goes nothing:
Genesis, much like ELP isn't exactly a band that it's particularly cool to like these days, and are usually one of the groups singled out for particular derision. Unlike ELP however, Genesis were never ever cool to like, commonly being called “Genesnooze” in the press. They didn't seem to be able to anything right in their eyes; their overblown musical epics to their nonsensical lyrics to their utterly ridiculous live shows where they just stand there while weird stuff sort of happens around them didn't really curry them any favour, particularly with the rock and metal set. Yet, I find them utterly brilliant.
Yes, that is the sound of the writer's credibility falling faster than the sands of an hourglass...
Once they found their style with Trespass and especially Nursury Cryme, they created album after album full of incredibly innovative, novel, thoroughly enjoyable music that I adore so much. Hell, I have a vinyl copy of Foxtrot on my shelf and I don't even have a turntable! I genuinely adore a lot of their body of work, and while the credit does have to go to the band as a whole, there are two band members in particular who were the pioneers of innovation in this regard. The first was frontman Peter Gabriel, who you may even have heard of as the guy who did “Sledgehammer” and essentially was the main creative thrust of the band. The other was Steve Hackett, lead guitarist and utter genius. This guy was doing tapping and sweep picking riffs a decade before Eddie and Yngwie, and I seriously deeply enjoy his unique guitaring fingerprint, which is like almost nothing I'd heard in rock, but yet didn't have to resort to novelty to be compelling.
Now take a good long look at those names, because neither of them are on this album!
This was when they times, they were a changing for Genesis. Gabriel left after a lot of personal disagreements with the direction of The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway: a masterpiece of an album written and credited primarily by Gabriel himself. He moved on to a highly successful solo career where he essentially went to every genre he could possibly think of, taking a lot of influence from African music in particular. And then, just after the release of the previous album Wind and Wuthering, Hackett too left for the greener pastures of solo work, and while his star would never shine as brightly as the rest, he was happier and enjoyed being able to work for himself.
Both of these left Genesis with the ever popular dilemma of who would replace them. Who could provide the soulful, imaginative singing and writing of Peter Gabriel? Along with that, who could possibly replace the sheer innovation and excellence of Steve Hackett?
The answer: Noone, and they knew it. Instead of a new vocalist, drummer Phil Collins picked up the reigns with his distinctive though rather middle of the road style. And instead of a new guitarist, bassist Mike Rutherford (who was always the fifth most talented member) switched to doing all guitars. Rounding off the three was the ever talented keyboardist Tony Banks who you continue to get the impression is really carried off by the whims of the more charismatic parts of the band.
In other words, this is still Genesis, just minus the visionary talent that made the band great.
That's all well and terrible, but then again, maybe this is a chance to thrust into the spotlight three incredible and charismatic talents that just got lost in the shuffle compared to Gabrial or Hackett. Sadly, due to the fact they don't have particularly evoking personalities, this wasn't the case, even though due to the way the band was set up, all three had a striking and unique job to do, much like that other trio I reviewed an album of, can't put my finger on why. In any case, personal problems and the burn out from constantly being on tour probably didn't help, as well as being in the looming shadow of punk rock.
Looking at the cover of the album doesn't exactly fill me with confidence either. While it's typically sound advice to not judge a book by it's cover, the best prog covers are those that epitomise the themes and it seems to correlate that a terrible cover means a terrible album, with only a few exceptions you have to take case by case. Let me assure you that what you're about to witness is not one of them:
...braincells left after trying to make sense of this mess.
Oh yes, it's one of those covers again, that depict just how half-baked, nonsensical and utterly ridiculous (not in that good Prog way) yet inexplicably earnest the music you're about to listen to is. While Love Beach is hilariously bad and way off-genre, and Tormato was a product of general dissatisfaction, this epitomises the transition from a prog band that differed from the rest by their ability to make genuinely good songs into a mess of insultingly obtuse yet contradictory radio friendly cheese.
But anyway! Enough of this stuff that doesn't matter, it's about the music in the end, and it is in this department more than any others that Genesis truly disappoint with this opus. The album lacks a truly epic track; one will not find a Supper's Ready nor a Cinema Show or even a Stagnation here. Only three of the tracks actually reach the five minute mark, and it's clear right from the very beginning that while all the familiar sounds are there (minus Hackett's guitar of course), it's really masking the fact that this is a very different album, with a very different attitude to music writing than Genesis past.
The album starts off with Down and Out, a rather claustrophobic opener, led by Banks' spine-chilling Mellotron and surrounded at all sides of the mix by Collins' ever brilliant drums and Rutherford's um, guitar style. Alright, Rutherford is not a brilliant guitarist on this track and is really essentially there to fill up the mix, but the track overall is very effectively done. It's powerful, emotive and simple, but not in a way that panders nor patronises. We've got later in the album for those treats. Lyrically, the track is a callous track about a business partner betraying another to his face, telling him to keep up otherwise he'll be overtaken. Now, putting on my beaten metaphor cap, this could be read more literally as a harbinger of the callous greedy 80s (the decade which Genesis had their most fruitful years and became megastars by the by) and defending his actions by being blunt and straight-laced with them. However, my personal reading of this is relating to the reception of Genesis to progressive rock in general, essentially telling people it's over and that at least they're suddenly shifting genres rather than hiding the fact they're becoming more populist. Either reading is suspiciously effective, and I actually really enjoy the song, despite it's simplicity. It's clear they did too, since it became the template for most of Phil Collins' angry darker songs for both Genesis and his solo albums. In fact, listening to it a few times, you can hear a lot of this in songs like Mama and Tonight Tonight Tonight. If you wanted a single song that epitomised the change in attitude, Down and Out is pretty much it.
And after the chilling intensity of Down and Out what do we get? A bloody piano ballad, that's what! What we have here is Undertow, a classic Carpé Diem song about the older narrator advising someone younger than him to suck up everything life throws at you and make the most of life, otherwise “the days they turn into years/ and still no tomorrow appears.” It's cheesy, though not irredeemably so. It's imagery is sound, and the central focus is at least not a sappy love song, so we can take comfort in the fact that Genesis wouldn't ever stoop that low right?
After this comes Heaven For Eve- I mean the Ballad of Big. It begins with a weird synth-backed piano opening that launches straight into a more traditional classic rock tale. Much like Tormato's
Release Release, it tries to ham-fistedly add more rock elements to the more symphonic sound, which was doomed to failure the second Tony Banks chimed in during the chorus, with his high pitched synth really damaging the mood that was almost attained by Rutherford's simple but catchy hook. Collins' voice really doesn't help either; his tenor-come-falsetto really makes the story of Big the sheriff's tale of manly hardness suspiciously unconvincing. I usually like Phil's voice (unlike most of the English speaking world apparently) but while Gabrial got away with his range with his astounding charisma and the 'mad storyteller' atmosphere he generated with his voice, Phil sings it with such earnest that it turns it into the song equivalent of a story from Hello magazine. That said, ignore the lyrics and you have a rather enjoyable song made up of two infectiously catchy hooks. In hindsight, I guess the radio friendly direction is no surprise – they're damn good at it!
And after the infuriatingly catchy hook dies down we fade into yet another synth/accoustic ballad. A lot of people actually didn't see Duke coming somehow! This actually has a very power ballad style, kind of like Every Rose Has a Thorn. Except about the snow. It's suspiciously romanticist in imagery (in the poetic movement sense, not the loving sense) like a lot of the slower ballady songs Genesis used to do and is all about nostalgia and the loss of youthful innocence. The metaphor is beaten to death, and is not helped by Collins' hilariously melodramatic delivery to the big money line:
Hey there's a Snowman
Hey, Hey what a Snowman
Pray for the Snowman
Ooh, Ooh what a Snowman
It is times like this that I start to wonder whether prog is really all that intellectual after all...
Enough about that, it's time for the epic song of the album, Burning Rope. Well, it's the longest song by a full minute so it must be right? Except not entirely. It's essentially another ballad but with a much better melody and slightly better lyrics. Actually, having said that :
And the man in the moon
Who seduced you
Then finally loosed you
I'm really not sure what to tell you about that.
The message seems to be once again about the Carpe Diem and forging a path of your own through your life regardless of life's problems. I'm somehow doubting this needed seven minutes to tell. Aside from the great instrumentation it's really seven minutes of filler.
The song leads quite nicely into the next track, Deep into the Motherlode, which is a first for this bloody album. This seems to be an actual allegorical tale (unlike the last one, which is just jumbled imagery with a moral), using the gold rush as a metaphor for being forced out into the big wild world and the loneliness and pain that come with always believing the grass is greener on the other side. It's not a bad track, with a great chorus hook and an infectious if probably overused mellotron. If we keep up the quality and more progressive arc of this album, maybe this will all be salvageable...
Any hopes of continued progression in the music are completely and utterly shattered by the arrival of probably the fourth or fifth ballad in seven tracks. This one is again about betrayal, believing in a path of life that is straight and true, yet pulled and twisted in front of your eyes. If anything, this is a fascinating contrast, and shows the dividing line between the progressive intentions of Deep in the Motherlode and the pandering, meaningless non-threatening pop style of Many Too Many. It feels like the lead single off a really bad middle of the road soft rock group.
Once again like a particularly bad car crash the album whiplashes into an imaginative song about old comic character Little Nemo. Scenes from a Night's Dream is a thoroughly enjoyable song about imagination and dreams which I suppose at a push could be considered romanticist again, simply for the regression to childhood and use of nostalgia. Of all the songs on the album, this probably has the widest appeal for me. While Down and Out's great dark tone and ambiguous lyrics make it great fun for my literary-minded person, Scenes from a Night's Dream is just a really happy imaginative bouncing song, which sets it apart from all the plodding, depressing mean spirited ballads. It's far from Genesis' best song, and the mix of comedy, nostalgia and fantasy has been done much better in songs like Supper's Ready but we take whatever enjoyment we can from this album when we find it.
...And just as the pace and tempo of the album begins to move faster than glacial, Rutherford once again pulls the drag chute for a quite moody end of a night drunken ballad. It has some weird, bitter and downtrodden lyrics about an insular man who seeks escape and a sympathetic ear through Joe. It's all mopey and depressing than before you know it you get bashed in the face with some prog! And before you can even react it's gone, which I guess almost works as a metaphor for the excitement he wishes to seek, but the chorus is too short and he soon slips into the melancholy of the verses. This song would have benefited a lot more with more time I feel, maybe giving the extraneous two minutes of Burning Rope to this to really help the mood of utter drunken misery.
Continuing the trend of depressing drunken songs comes The Lady Lies, a fantasy inspired song which sort of gives away its metaphor in the song title. The melody is really good, almost a merger between a bassy film noir song and the bouncy tempo and instrumentation of a fantasy bardic tale. It's essentially a warning song about dangerous women similar to Evil Woman by ELO, with a veil of metaphor wrapped around it. That said, it is a deceptively well concocted metaphor, being clear with its intentions but not at the expense of the tale. I think if Genesis used the Verse-Chorus-Verse structure for more songs like this I doubt I'd have as many problems as I do with the album.
Of course, there has to be a high place to start before one can begin their dramatically ironic fall from grace, which is not going to spoil the quality of the final track on the album. Before I talk about it however, I probably should talk about the first Genesis single to chart: an interesting and inventive little ditty called I Know What I Like (In your Wardrobe), about a guy who mows lawns and really wants nothing else in life; he's happy as he is and doesn't see any reason to risk his happiness. It's a fantastic song of one of my favourite albums, Selling England by the Pound, and manages to do the sensational thing a lot of prog bands could not by being both complete nonsense yet at the same time incredibly relatable. It was a sleeper hit for the group, hitting number 24 in the charts in 1974, back when the pop charts actually meant something.
Four years later, the final track on ...and then there were three... hit the top ten. But instead of hitting the top ten for being innovative, unique and bizarre, it reaches those lofty heights by betraying every thing about Genesis whatsoever. It skips all pretense, all allegory or metaphor and is a song about love so smugly content it's impossible to believe it's on the same album as The Lady Lies or Scenes from a Night's Dream. It's a clearly engineered radio hit, far more than Many too Many; at least with Many too Many you had the feeling that they were actually talking about themselves! I must confess to liking it, but I like it for the same reasons I like eating clotted cream scones in front of a roaring fire; it's comfortable and relaxing and nice. I don't listen to the bands I like because they sound 'nice'! I listen to music to stimulate the mind and the soul, not to wrap it up in a big snuggly blanket! That's not to say I don't believe there is a place for love songs, but that they need to provide the listener with more than just mild smug contentment.
The worst part of it all was of course that this was their biggest hit to date, and the band would get more and more populist to befit their ever-growing popularity. It's not enough that the song is bland, insipid and monstrously complacent; people paid more money for it!
That right there, that generic mess is why prog rock died. It wasn't just the terrible albums being released by big stars, nor the looming shadow of punk that was explicitly targeting prog rock as a target for derision. It was the fact that the big money was in pop rock and eventually new wave, and no story about submission to corporate greed has a happy ending.
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