Top 100 Albums - #71: Peter Gabriel 1 (1977)

Peter Gabriel's fifth appearance on the chart is his first solo offering, released nearly two years after leaving Genesis in 1975. Gabriel founded Genesis in 1967 with classmates Tony Banks, Mike Rutherford, Anthony Phillips and Chris Stewart. Taking their lead from psycheldelic contempories Procol Harum, Genesis became famous throughout Western Europe through Gabriel's flamboyant costumes and the use of ultraviolet light in concerts. After their first two albums were slated, the band found fame and form with Nursery Crime (1971). This and its follow-ups, Foxtrot (1972) and Selling England By The Pound (1973), established Genesis as quintessentially English rockers, coated in a rich combination of psychedelia and eccentricity. But tensions soon emerged. The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway (1974) was a postmodern, dystopian double album rock opera, chronicling the story of an immigrant called Rael trying to survive in the nightmare that is New York City. The tour saw Gabriel dressed even more ostentatiously - to hide his stage fright - and the group's collective attitude was undermined by his insistence on writing all the lyrics. Breaking point came with the difficult pregnancy and birth of Anna Gabriel. When Gabriel refused to record or tour with the band in order to look after his family, he realised that he had to leave.

Two years on, we come to this. 'Moribund The Burgermeister' opens the show and from the start it looks like a hard listener. The title is verbose, for a start. After the lengthy-ish intro, however, we begin to get going. Gabriel half-whispers, half-screams the lyrics as one started off as a brooding little tune has turned into a fully-flung rocker. The lyrics may be difficult to understand, and are even mythical in places. Nevertheless, given the space it needs, this is a great song. If nothing else, it's a good break from the Genesis sound while retaining the best aspects of Gabriel's previous work.

'Solsbury Hill' was the first single Gabriel released as a solo artist (with 'Moribund' as the B-side). Everything is here to make this a classic - great acoustic guitar, lovely flutes - played by Gabriel himself, I dare say - , Gabriel's angelic voice and splendid vocals. From any other artist, you might expect a song about going solo to be a clunky affair used to slag off their former bandmates. With Gabriel, what you get instead is a lyrical delight. You only have to look at the second verse to see how talented he is: To keep in silence I resigned/ My friends would think I was a nut/ Turning water into wine/ Open doors would soon be shut.

'Modern Love' is another hard-rocking joy, replete with loud guitars and swirling keyboards. The lyrics are less cohesive and clear here than on 'Solsbury Hill', and like on the opener they do go down the mystical path a bit too far; I worship Diana by the light of the moon/ When I pull out my pipe, she screamed out of tune is the kind of couplet you'd expect on a Led Zeppelin album. But this aside, it's a catchy, intelligent song, and Gabriel is on proper form with the vocals. He's at the top of his range without straining or strangling a cat.

So far Gabriel's experiments with different genres has paid off. 'Excuse Me' is the first point at which he comes unstuck. With its doo-wop, almost barbership introduction and general kookiness, it's listenable, but that doesn't make it good. Gabriel is trying too hard to show that he call do a lot more with art rock than just prance around in a flower costume. It might grow on you, but many will not take the chance.

Much better is 'Humdrum'. This is quieter, eerier and has some wonderful keyboard echoes on it, courtesy of producer Bob Ezrin. Even though the lyrics are difficult to follow, there is some quality to the music which leads them to grip you. You listen so intently that duff lines like You got me cookin'/ I'm a hard boiled egg are overlooked, almost corrected by the general feel of the piece. This means that that the good lines, like Empty my mind/ I find it hard to cope/ Listen, my heart/ Don't need no stethoscope, get through. The ending, with its Nick Mason-like drumming, is the beginning of the path down the anthem trail, which we will revisit shortly.

The first song on this album which comes close to an anthem is 'Slowburn'. Beginning with some rather standard-sounding piano, it swells with guitar and burgeons with the drums to create a song which pulls you in all the right directions and in all the right ways. There are some intriguing lines in here - We tried a handful of bills and a handful of pills/ We tried making movies from a volume of stills - but again the main focus is on the music. And in this case, the music is good enough to make that okay.

The last proper slip-up on the album comes next. 'Waiting For The Big One' clocks in at an epic 7:13. It's a jazz number with blues influences which feels like it's lifted straight out of a late-night cabaret. What this means is that it's gentle, muffled, and very, very slow. In fact, 'slow' does not do it justice. For a piece which only has two verses, it feels strung out ad infinitum. You are made to fell like this will never end and so only the dedicated fan will avoid skipping over this one.

From the worst track on the album to what is undoubtedly the best, the most anthemic. 'Down The Dolce Vita' opens with a full orchestra to set the grandiosity, before giving way to some great drums and disco-tinged guitars. The lyrics, to the attuned ear, are some of the clearest on the album. It's a gem which never fails to surprise you, and always comes at you at an unrelenting pace. It doesn't force the music down your throat, but it grips you by the scruff of the neck right until the drums die down.

We then segue straight into the closer, 'Here Comes The Flood'. So far, Ezrin's production has been near flawless. Here is the first time that he slips up. This feels very overproduced - even to those not attuned to spotting this will admit the 1990 version is better (see my review of Hit, #72). In its favour, this is a deeply emotional song, with lyrics which both flow along melodiously and hook you in. The trouble is that Ezrin has layered so much stuff on top of them that it sound that it is pulling at your heartstrings in such a superficial way. It's as if he wasn't sure that this was a good song, and threw the stuff in to be sure.

When compared to the work Genesis were churning out at the same time - A Trick Of The Tail (1976) and Wind And Wuthering (1977) - Peter Gabriel 1 achieves the task of setting a departure from 'the Genesis sound'. This was the thing Gabriel most needed. It doesn't matter that he was unsure where to go at first: the experimentation comes as a refreshing relief instead of sounding like a cry for help. On one or two songs - 'Excuse Me' and 'Waiting For The Big One' - the experiments go awry, and lyrically this isn't the clearest record he would ever put out. Nevertheless, while Peter Gabriel 1 is by no means a perfect album, it still stands as a testament to Gabriel's abilities and, for the dedicated listener, hints at greater things to come.

3.77 out of 5

Top 100 Albums - #83: Heavy Weather (1977)

At number 83 is the only entry from jazz fusion pioneers Weather Report, with the album which is most consistently rated their masterpiece. Like many of the 1970s supergroups, Weather Report had already gone through their fair share of lineup permutations by the time Heavy Weather came out. The band had gradually evolved since its creation in 1971, abandoning the heavy emphasis on improvisation that had marked their initial efforts by the time of their third album, Sweetnighter (1973). After this the band moved through funk - on their breakthrough Mysterious Traveller (1974) - on to incorporating synthesisers on the follow-up Tale Spinnin' (1975), and then rock with Black Market (1976). With keyboardist Joe Zawinul and sax player Wayne Shorter the only core members, the band's line-up, particularly on the drums, constantly changed. Black Market was the first Weather Report album for bassist Jaco Pastorius; his addition would prove all the difference.

We begin with 'Birdland'. What more can be said about this legendary track? This song, about a jazz club in New York, became a jazz standard for the likes of Buddy Rich and orchestras the world over, and achieved the kind of commercial success in America matched only by the mighty Herbie Hancock. And it's easy to see why. Zawinal's genius is there from the very start, with the simple yet disticntive seven-note opening. Pastorius is loud, vibrant and highly entertaining, and the jazz drumming from Alex Acuna is precise, simplistic and subtle. Everything about this track makes it a classic, from the panache of the individual instruments to the ease and skill with which they all slot together. It's an unadulterated masterpiece.

And from one masterpiece to another. 'A Remark You Made' is more understated, quieter and not half at catchy - but, since this is jazz, that is not an issue. Whereas on 'Birdland' relied on Zawinul and Pastorius to set things off, this is from the outset Wayne Shorter's song. He plays the saxophone with unrivalled precision and passion. And all the time the rhythm section is relaxed and equally accurate - Acuna plays with an acquired gentleness and sensitivity, and Zawinul switches from the rapid chords of 'Birdland' to the slow building harmonies on here. Pastorius plays beautiful, and the whole thing has a fantastic feel to it.

On 'Teen Town', things start to rock up a bit. Pastorius was described as "the Greatest Bass Player in the World"¹ by this point - though this title was entirely self-proclaimed, he wasn't wrong. Even fans of John Entwistle are likely to sit up and take notice. Backed only by an easily executed hi-hat and snare combination, 'Jaco' runs riot, feeding Shorter and Acuna invariably and pleasantly complex phrases on the bass which become much greater than the some of their parts. At only 2:51 this hardly qualifies as an epic WR song, but it is living (and hearing) proof of the talents of the ensemble.

'Harlequin', at least to start with, shifts the focus back to Zawinul. This time on piano, he rambles and swings around the keys like a very composed lunatic, staving on Pastorius' resonating bass work in another good piece. This, however, does not have the same focus or clarity of purpose that the previous tracks had. Although Shorter's skills as a composer are not in doubt, this ends up being a little too disorganised even for jazz. Certainly Acuna's drums towards the end become way too heavy on the cymbals, so that we can make out very little else.

The bottom really plummets out through on 'Rumba Mama'. A live track, supposedly, it could almost be considered a world music track. The first half is characterised by loud shouting from Manolo Badrena in a language that this difficult to discern, intersperced only by odd and awkward-sounding drumming from Acuna. The drumming aspect continues as the shouting decreases, and like John Bonham playing samba, it's too chaotic and overcooked to work, putting a damper on the whole project.

Thankfully, the slump doesn't last and 'Palladium' fights, literally, to restore the albums fortunes. And it does a pretty good job, since all the ingredients are here - Pastorius alive and loud on bass, Shorter on form on the sax, some more restrained and thoughful percussion from Acuna. Zawinul completes the picture with some delightful and thoughtful melodies in the higher registers, completing any 'comeback' with unrepentant ease.

'Birdland' and 'A Remark You Made' both set the benchmark very high, but on 'The Juggler' Zawinul almost surpasses both to create what could be regarded as the epitome of jazz fusion - though, considering the success of 'Birdland', maybe that's a little too strong. This is a more minimalist piece, with what seems like mixed time signatures, relying on Acuna to deliver - and he does, intelligently. But this is predominantely a Zawinul vehicle - his repeating keyboard riff - first heard at about 1:16, is absolutely to die for. All the performers are at the top of their game, and the result is brilliance.

'Havona' is the album's closer, and tragically it doesn't quite live up to the very high expectations set by the previous tracks. On this occassion, the keyboards are too electro and in-your-face for it to constitute a proper jazz song - an ambitious early-80s soul number, perhaps. Shorter and Pastorius do their utmost to resurrect this song, but on this rambling, bloated occassion they act and play in vain.

Weather Report's catalogue is a rather uneven one, if investigated carefully. All four albums from Mysterious Traveller to Heavy Weather won the prestigious Album of the Year rating by jazz magazine Downbeat. However, on closer inspection a lot of this earlier output is decidely hit-and-miss, as if the band were searching for a sound. This seems even closer to the truth which we look past 1977; their follow-up, Mr. Gone (1978) was panned by Downbeat, in what became the jazz equivalent of Rolling Stone's famous review of Bob Dylan's Self-Portrait (1970) - which began with the words, "What is this shit?". Taken historically, then, it would appear that Heavy Weather is the only time when Weather Report, or at least this incarnation, hit the mark. Not only that, it set the tone for jazz just as Steely Dan had done with Pretzel Logic (1974). Heavy Weather is by no means a perfect album - but it is a very important achievement.

3.75 out of 5

References

¹ http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heavy_Weather_(album). Accessed on July 26 2007.