Top 100 Albums - #21: Peter Gabriel 3 (1980)

At number 21 is Peter Gabriel 3, Peter Gabriel's third solo offering and his highest entry on the chart.
After departing from Genesis in 1975, Gabriel spent the best part of two years in self-imposed isolation at his Surrey home. He spent his time growing vegetables, playing the piano, practicing yoga and raising his new-born daughter. In 1977 he finally returned to the studio under the supervision of Bob Ezrin. The resulting record, Peter Gabriel 1 (1977, #71), was a menagerie of different styles which came together to successfully distance Gabriel's sound from that of his former bandmates. After a short tour, he released Peter Gabriel 2 (1978, #85), produced by Robert Fripp. This was a more transitional affair, with Gabriel still unclear of where he was going musically. Gabriel spent the rest of 1978 and the best part of 1979 on tour, bumping into his old bandmates along the way. He made a guest appearance with Genesis in New York for one date in their tour for And Then There Were Three (1978) and played a set at the Reading Festival where Phil Collins played the drums.

Fittingly, it is with Collins that we start. 'Intruder' is one of the first tracks in music history to employ 'gated reverb' on the drums, the sound that would define Collins' solo work. In layman's terms, the drums are recorded in a very echoey room, captured on condenser microphones and then passed through a noise gate, which cuts out when the sound rises too high. The mood thus created is ideal for the lyrics about someone breaking into a lady's house at night. Amid the atonal guitar chords, Gabriel begins with some distant screams, and then delivers the verses as if he is right next to you in the darkness, whispering in your ear. It's genuinely unnerving.

On 'No Self-Control', this dark mood is taken further. The opening is very distinctive, as the synthesisers dash back and forth between each ear, until your eyes are following them. Then the sinister xylophones come in, which are kooky but sound like they are made of human bone. In the midst of this, Gabriel is a demon unleased, crammed full of claustrophobia and paranoia. The drums on the chorus ring out like machine gun volleys, and in the verses the repeated line I don't know how to stop locks you in to the darkness. Kate Bush provides light relief on backing vocals, but this remains a thick and murky marvel.

'Start' is a short instrumental, lasting 1:21 and segueing into the next track. Although it is a segue piece, it's impressive in its own right. Dick Morrissey's saxophone solo, which dominates it, is very well-written, adding a sad jazzy twinge to the atmospheric art rock on offer elsewhere. It also serves as a 'breathing point' between the terror of 'No Self-Control' and the angry angst of 'I Don't Remember'.

This, on the other hand, cannot be reduced to filler, and it certainly doesn't give you room to breathe. Just like on the opener, the drum beat is relentless, pounding through your skull like a carpenter's chisel while John Giblin's bass rumbles on. Gabriel is at the top of his game, both lyrically and vocally. In the first verse he sets out his new image in complete defiance of the old:

I've got no means to show identification
I've got no papers, show you what I am
You'll have to take me just the way that you find me
What's gone is gone and I do not give a damn

These lyrics work with the scary instrumentation to produce a real gung-ho triumph. Gabriel's first two albums had some great songs on them, but none of them were as upfront as this in distancing him from the light, airy psychedelia that he helped to create in Genesis. This is so completely removed from that sound and era, that it has the initial effect of shocking you. But then as you listen all the way through you are reassured, then pleased, then delighted that the new Gabriel is even better.

'Family Snapshot' is not as gung-ho, and nowhere near as upfront. But it still manages to be brilliant beyond measure. Gabriel is underrated as a pianist, and the intro to this song is among his finest and most ethereal. He would later reuse this riff on Birdy (1985), the soundtrack to the Alan Parker film of the same name. There it is stark and delicate, but here it blends with his calming, raspy voice. Having started slow, it gradually rears its head in rage, carrying so much power without being overwhelming on the ears. The lyrics are based on the book An Assassin's Diary by Arthur Bremer, which chronicle an attempt on a politician's life from the point of view of the killer. Gabriel conveys this theme well, so that you don't have to have read the book to know what is going on. In the climax, the whole thing shrinks down, so that it is just Gabriel and piano as at the start. He croaks lines about a lonely childhood with a gifted honesty which made Us (1992, #39) so wonderful. It is a magical track which was well ahead of its time.

'And Through The Wire' relies more on rhythm than on lyrics, meaning that it cannot match the previous two tracks for quality. On the other hand, this is more catchy and pulsating than 'Family Snapshot', with its solid refrain and call-and-answer of I want you. Where previous tracks were led by drums or keyboards, here you do notice the guitar more. Dave Gregory provides a jagged rhythm part which brings out the chorus, giving it more life. You still notice the drums - Jerry Marotta is not the most understated player of the skins - but this feels more rounded than we have become used to.

The classic mid-album dip arrives on the next two tracks, long overdue. 'Games Without Frontiers' feels like it was written as a quick single, rather than to compliment the feel of the album. It is also the second track to feature Kate Bush, but while on 'No Self-Control' she provided a safety valve, here she sounds inane and superfluous. The result is that the rest of the otherwise passable music is fatally compromised. This in turn makes Gabriel's lyrics hamfisted, and when you are writing about war that is the last thing you want to happen.

'Not One Of Us', on the other hand, has a much more simple problem - it's too damn long. This could have been a good track, if the twisted effects at the start had been put to better use and condensed. Instead, they have the effect of stretching this song beyond the normal realms of patience, so that you are put off even before you get to the tedious chorus.

To get this album back on track, we need a good'un. And that is exactly what we get, in the shape of 'Live A Normal Life'. This makes no bones about being stripped-out and quietened-down for the sake of refocussing the listener. The piano sounds buoyant and the percussion is esoteric, but the dark underbelly is still there, albeit in the distance and muffled beneath effects. When Gabriel finally comes to the surface for air, he doesn't make all that much sense, but he does enough for you to give him another chance.

He doesn't disappoint. We close with 'Biko', one of Gabriel's first songs about human rights; the subject is anti-Apartheid activist Stephen Biko, who was brutally murdered by his interrogators in September 1977. Although it begins with some placid African singing, soon the track goes a lot more Western, the drums are shorter and Gabriel takes control. This is the longest track on here, at 7:33 long, but he has more than enough to say on the subject to sustain your interest. His lyrics are potent and charged, but he sings them with an air of calm defiance:

You can blow out a candle
But you can't blow out a fire
Once the flames begin to catch
The wind will blow it higher

All the ingredients of this album come together properly on this track, making it a good closer. And while the ending is a little messianic, this is a lot less patronising that other such efforts of the 1980s (including that of a certain Mr. Geldof).

Peter Gabriel albums are rarely the place to look if you want consistency. There is always a lot of experimentation and tinkering going on, exemplified by the gaps between albums as his career progressed. But where other albums could feel like a bag of random bolts, Peter Gabriel 3 sounds like a well-oiled machine. It feels more unified and together than anything Gabriel has put out before or since (with the possible exception of Up (2002, #22)). But magically, it manages to feel as collected and strong as it does without coming across as cynically calculated. There is almost no filler here to pad out the themes - because it just isn't needed. And while you do get a couple of less than brilliant tracks, they are not outright howlers. If Peter Gabriel 1, 2 and 4 (1982, #80) are records which you listen to in small chunks, Peter Gabriel 3 is an album you can easily listen to all the way through without getting bored or irritated. It is a feast for the senses, a classic in its time and in ours.

4.00 out of 5

Top 100 Albums - #22: Up (2002)

Peter Gabriel's penultimate chart entry is Up, the long-awaited follow-up to Us (1992, #39).
After the release of Us in September 1992, Gabriel embarked on a massively successful world tour, captured on the album Secret World Live (1994) and on the subsequent DVD. The tour featured a menagerie of the most highly skilled musicians, from long-time collaborators Tony Levin and David Rhodes to newcomer Paula Cole, whose performances helped to kick-start her solo career. Gabriel spent the next few years tying up the loose ends of the tour while beginning the recordings for what would become Big Blue Ball (2008), a multi-national collaboration headed up with Karl Wallinger. In 1997, he embarked on a project for the Millennium Dome, to design a show and compose the music for the celebrations on New Year's Eve, 1999. The project, which ran through two years, eventually produced OVO (2000, #81). In 2002 he composed Long Walk Home, the soundtrack for the award-winning film Rabbit-Proof Fence, about the plight of Australian aborigines.

A good opener should always make the mood of the album clear, and 'Darkness' achieves it in spades. For the first 30 seconds it is tentative, obsessive and scarily quiet; you know that something else is coming, but you also begin to relax. Then the whole mix explodes in front of your eyes. Rhodes' guitar is angry and distorted, Manu Katche's drums are ferocious, and the whole experience sends adrenaline rushing through your veins. Gabriel, meanwhile, sits in the eye of the storm, reciting the lyrics like a poem while his voice is altered as he sees fit. This does make it harder to understand first time out, but after a while you don't really notice.

'Growing Up' is a lot less in-your-face - which comes as a relief - but is hardly worse off where substance is concerned. The deep cello at the start reminds you that we are still dealing with the tragic side of the human condition. While the single version contained on Hit (2003, #72) could have passed for punchy, this is more meticulous and drawn out. It may have a faster beat, but there is a lot more going on; it entices you, it tempts you, but you still have to make your own way in. Gabriel's lyrics are more arty than his mid-80s commercial period. Indeed, the bridge would not have been out of place on Foxtrot (1972):

Well, on the floor, there's a long wooden table
On the table, there's an open book
On the page, is a detailed drawing
And on the drawing is the name I took

If sources are to believed, 'Sky Blue' took twenty years to complete. And yet, at first glance, it is suspiciously familiar. Fans who bought Long Walk Home will be quick to spot the similarities with 'Cloudless' from that album - the almost identical riffs, The Blind Boys of Alabama on backing vocals, and the spacious, pathos-riddled production. On closer inspection, however, this is not just Peter repeating himself. By adding in some electronic paraphernalia at the start, and a decent set of lyrics, he has taken the best elements of a distinctly average track and made them into what they should always have been.

'No Way Out' begins - after a while - with one of the best guitar riffs recorded in the last 10 years. Rhodes plays the four-measure phrase on his Fender Strat with a unique, sinister menace; the reverb is so great and deep that it sound like a bass, and that makes it frightening. This pulsating riff is counterpointed by the fingertippy piano of Gabriel and Levin's funky but unimposing bass. This is the first track to deal solely with death, and it wins the first battle by setting a bleak mood. Gabriel then pulls off a neat second trick with a set of lyrics which stand at an odd angle but eventually become clear. He peruses over the second verse - and the subject of goldfish - as if he is in mourning for a lost friend. Couple all this with the repeating emotion plea - I'm not quitting on you - and you have one of the best songs he has crafted in a long time.

'I Grieve' is often believed to have been written as a response to the 9/11 attacks. Although I stated this in an earlier blog entry, this is actually a myth, since the song was written and completed in its present form as far back as 1998 (I apologise). Despite this, you do sense that Gabriel is singing these words with his loved ones in mind. Just as his elder daughter Anna was the subject of 'Come Talk To Me' on Us, so he could easily be singing this about his younger daughter, Melanie. In any case, he is certainly using this track as a means of silencing critics who were saying that his voice had withered in the intervening years. It has certainly changed, but he can still get upstairs when he needs to and sound bloody amazing in the process.

For 'The Barry Williams Show', however, the words we're looking for are 'bloody stupid'. The whole thing, from start to finish, feels ham-fisted, outdated, corny and sometimes downright embarrassing. This is a case of Gabriel trying to prove that he is still cool, can still keep up with the kids of today. That is a grave error since: (a) they probably don't want to know; and (b) Gabriel's commercial success was never premeditated or packaged - that's what made it so compelling then, and now. This feels fake, really fake - fake enough to make you reach for the off switch and despair that someone of his stature could have sunk so low.

If, on the other hand, you have the patience of a saint (or a album blogger), you will still be around for when the album gets back on track. 'My Head Sounds Like That' is a welcome return or retreat to introspective mood pieces, packed from end to end with solemn soundscapes and dolorous piano. This time we get the Black Dyke Band as well; they lit up OVO and they achieve the same effect here. The tempo may be ponderous, but this is compensated for by Gabriel's performance. He takes the cryptic style of lyrics, as on 'Lay Your Hands On Me', and then strains his vocal chords to shift the piece up a gear (see my review of Peter Gabriel 4 (1982, #80). The break is especially good, as the sounds and words mash together and start messing with your mind.

'More Than This' is the most upbeat we get on Up. Which is a shame, because whether as an album track or as a single, this is not a good song. This is an example Peter is trying too hard - not to be cool, as before, but to be interesting. There are some lovely touches: the opening riff isn't all that bad, and Rhodes' bright phrase at 0:56 could really have gone somewhere in the region of 'Solsbury Hill'. But there is so many little motifs like these going on, that it ends up as a chaotic, incoherent flop.

'Signal To Noise' soon puts that to rights - and some. The distinctive dropping drum in the first few seconds, along with the atmospheric violins, make you realise that this is going to be something special. Gabriel begins the first verse in a downbeat, jazzy sneer, and then goes into a full-blown scream with only the deep strings to keep him tied down. Throughout this wondrous track, you can sense him wanting to break free, wanting to snap and speak his mind. But every time he is trapped by this rich, tantalising vapour of noise, where it be electronic tics, reverberated drums or the solo performance of the late Nusrah Fateh Ali Khan. In the final third of your song, your tried patience is melded with paranoia and fear as the track rises, and rises, and rises. Only now, with both singer and listener at a critical level, does the whole thing explode, blossoming into a frenzied and terrifying finish, with violins duelling Dhol drums and Gabriel in the centre screaming Receive and transmit! You come away completely blown apart, having heard the best and scariest track on the album.

'The Drop' is the closer, and it's just as well that it's a solemn, quiet affair. With only a piano on his person, Gabriel half-croons, half-whispers this song about flying and the brevity of life. You picture yourself either in an aeroplane, looking down on city lights, or else lying on a bed surrounded by naked lights, steadily dimming until the silence becomes complete. The lyrics, brief as they are, dwell deep inside your head; you will be thinking about them for days until their personal meaning becomes clear.

For an album about death and the bleak nature of life, Up is not exactly a hackneyed suicide note or the musings of a sad old man. It's hardly Gabriel's most optimistic work, and so fans of his more commercial stuff will be unpleasantly surprised. For those, on the other hand, who like an album to slowly unwind and reveal itself according to how much attention you give it, this is an inspired work. Like Us, you will hear something new and interesting every time you play it, either all the way through or by sampling its component parts. Unfortunately, there are odd moments where Gabriel goes too far in his introspection, or where he forgets that what made him successful was the quality of his songs rather than any desire to be famous. But while Us occassionally flattered you with reassuring songs, Up is always egging you on, always pushing you deeper and further into the dark areas of your soul. It may take longer to fathom, it may even drive you round the twist - but you emerge at the other end more complete, more inspired, and more fulfilled.

4.00 out of 5

Top 100 Albums - #39: Us (1992)

At number 39 is Peter Gabriel's Us, his long-awaited follow-up to So (1986) and his seventh of nine entries.So brought Gabriel commercial success, something he undoubtedly deserved but didn't know how to deal with. Like his former bandmates, who left a gap of five years before the release of We Can't Dance (1991), Gabriel chose not to capitalise on his new-found fame with a quick follow-up. Being a man for whom the phrase 'more of the same' is completely anathema, he instead devoted his energies to humanitarian causes, beginning with tours for Amnesty International in 1986 and 1988. During this time he also put in a performance at The Secret Policeman's Third Ball in 1987, for the same organisation, playing 'Biko' to close the concert. After recording Passion (1989) for Martin Scorsese, Gabriel suffered a series of personal tragedies which led to extensive periods in therapy and a lot of scope for new material.

This impossible sequel begins with 'Come Talk To Me', and like 'Red Rain', the opener on So, this starts softly and then starts to unfold with a nervous swagger. Featuring Sinead O'Connor on vocals, this song describes Gabriel's troubled relationship with his first daughter, Anna. And while it cannot come close to 'Red Rain' in terms of raw spiritual power, it's still a great song to start things off; its lyrics unfold at a pace which is leisurely enough for you to appreciate the richness of the mix. Not only is Gabriel's voice perfectly complimented by O'Connor, but the production (the work of Daniel Lanois) means that it is clearer than ever before - and he's at the peak of his powers.

Having started on a lively note, we take things down a bit with 'Love To Be Loved'. Opening with some attractive tabla (a Hindu variant of the bongos), this is again a very easy listener. And like the last song, this swells very gradually, teasing you and yet rewarding you at the end. Here Peter is on his own, but that doesn't matter one bit, because the voice is good and the lyrics are verging on catchy. The chorus in particular has a great structure which blends seamlessly with the verses to form one fully functioning unit. And while he may not be pushing the limits of his vocal registers to any great extent or frequency, his voice still radiates power and the final workout is incredible.

Well, not quite. 'Blood Of Eden' is an incredible track. As you would expect from the title, there are Biblical tones here, but don't think for one minute that this is a preachy foot-stomper. Quite the opposite. Opening with some tender violins and sweet guitar, this is a eulogy for humanity. And what an eulogy - Peter pours his heart and soul into this song, with lyrics that stick in your throat and almost bring you to tears. The chorus is depectively simple, and yet completely breaktaking: In the blood of Eden/ Lie the woman and the man/ With the man in the woman/ And the woman in the man etc. The break after the second chorus is proof of Peter's ability - not just in the way in which he holds the high cry but the passion which goes into it. O'Connor's harmonies on the chorus are sublime, slotting in perfectly to create a true heart-surger. This is one of the album's defining tracks: it's carefully constructed, given the space it needs to breathe and develop - and as a result it's flawless.

After all that tearjerking serenity, we need something a bit more exciting. And 'Steam' does just that. Often derided as simply "Son of 'Sledgehammer'"¹, in reality it's so much more. This may have won awards for innovation in video, just like it's dad, and like its dad it is a song with sexual overtones. But unlike 'Sledgehammer' this is not overplayed and overidentified with the 1980s. This helps it to stand better on its own, and given the chance to do that, it shines. Its pulsating drum beat, combined with David Rhodes' visceral guitar, create a sharp pulse over which rides the distinctive bass of the masterful Tony Levin. Meanwhile, Gabriel's lyrics are cheeky, inviting you to form your own conclusions.

After doing so well, we hit an obstacle with 'Only Us'. This wierd intro sees a combination of flashy electronic effects, faint guitar and echoed world vocals. And that more or less sets the tone for the rest of the track, which is as murky as hell. Trying to make sense of this track is like trying to navigate through a labyrinth with your eyes closed. And even once you've established that you won't understand it, and sit back to try and appreciate the feel of things, you are left with at least four wasted minutes as it leaves you unfulfilled.

Thankfully, 'Washing Of The Water' is a definite return to form. The song starts off very mellow, with just a lilting drum beat and almost whispered lyrics. But this will not send you off to sleep. Gabriel offers up exhilirating vocals, backed by the graceful piano whose notes glide like a boat on a lake. It's a serene, relaxing tune which swells to its emotional conclusion with an expression of contentment on its face. It may well be the shortest track, at 3:52, but it unwinds to its conclusion without a drag or a rush.

'Digging In The Dirt' is more serious, more angry, more brooding. It's not sinister enough to make your hair stand on end, but you are made to feel claustrophobic. Then, just when you think you've adjusted, the anger explodes and you are plunged into the terrifying chorus. This achieves the unusual feat of being an aggressive, dark rock song which manages to come across as tender, all without a hint of slush. The rage suits Gabriel's raspy registers, and the result is an all-round great.

Unfortunately, the next two tracks are decidely half-cocked, in more ways than one. 'Fourteen Black Paintings', described by Rolling Stone as "music for Third World airports"², is poor. With its lonely duduk (an Armenian woodwind instrument, like a clarinet in sound), this is muddled and, like 'Only Us', jam-packed with echoed vocals. It feels misdirected, like Gabriel is just dumping world music in the mix to serve as continuity. 'Kiss That Frog' is even worse, though. This is a song where, as soon as you know what the lyrics are about*, you can't listen to it again. Unlike 'Steam', which was clever, this is completely shameless. It's Gabriel growing old disgracefully - and it isn't pretty.

Thank God, though, for the closer. Not only does Gabriel redeem himself with 'Secret World', he sets the bar even higher for next time. At 7:03 you certainly get your money's worth, but more than this, this is the distilling of the album into a microcosm of absolute joy. The opening tittilates you with its playful guitar, lingering keyboards and methodical drums, courtesy of Manu Katche. Then Gabriel comes in, and you instantly recognise his honesty. The third verse is amazing - In this house of make-believe/ Divided in two, like Adam and Eve. And again in the chorus - In all the places were we hiding love/ What was it we were thinking of?. This is spectacular live, as the Secret World tour proved, it makes your heart race and your face brighten. It's a masterpiece, unequivocally.

While So easily passed as a singles album which you could dip in and out of, Us requires your full and unmitigated attention. It is hardly surprising, for an album that took six years to make; indeed a work any less meticulous might have been a disappointment. But rather than being an obsessive, difficult work, like The Final Cut (1983, #49), this is as rewarding and as empowering as its predecessor, if not more so (no pun intended). As you would expect from such a personal work, there are times when the quality slips, either because the material becomes impenetrable or the subject matter makes you flinch. But at its heart, Us is a passionate odyssey through human emotion and the rollercoaster of relationships. It deserves a place in any collection, where it may unwind over the years, delighting you with something new every single time you play it.

3.90 out of 5

References
¹ Greg Kot, 'Us', http://www.rollingstone.com/artists/petergabriel/albums/album/301075/review/6067873. Accessed on April 16 2008.
² Ibid.
* Fellatio

Top 100 Albums - #41: So (1986)

Peter Gabriel's sixth chart entry comes in the shape of So, his most commercially successful solo offering.

After the release of Peter Gabriel 4 (1982, #80), which fully exhibited his new found love for world music, Gabriel devoted his energies to the creation of World of Music, Arts and Dance (WOMAD), an organisation devoted to the promotion of world music artists. To help fund the project in its initial years, fans were treated to a one-off Genesis reunion in late 1982 at the National Bowl, Milton Keynes; both Gabriel and Steve Hackett (who left the band in 1977) joined the band playing under the name Six of the Best. Gabriel went on to accompany David Bowie on his Let's Dance tour, pausing only to put out Plays Live (1983), culled from the tour of his fourth album. In 1985 Gabriel worked on the soundtrack to Alan Parker's Birdy (1985), produced by Daniel Lanois. A protégé of Brian Eno - who contibuted to The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway (1974) - he would go on to produce both Gabriel's next album and U2's The Joshua Tree (1987).

So opens with the sound of a hi-hat, intricately played by Stewart Copeland, formerly of The Police. 'Red Rain' blossoms forth from it - and 'blossoms' is the word, because this is a sublime start. The first thing you notice is Gabriel's voice - Lanois has managed to capture it at its best, able to crest the high registers yet smoky, raspy and full of emotion. That is something which no Genesis record ever managed. More than that, though, this song is overflowing with emotion even without the delivery. The lyrics take their inspiration from a dream Gabriel had where he was drowning in a sea of red water, and the feeling of defenceless and vulnerability is well conveyed. Add the funky bass of Tony Levin and the sweet keyboards and you have an instant classic.

We now come, inevitably, to 'Sledgehammer', a track which is so overplayed that Gabriel tried to get MTV to pull it. It is almost infamous for the success it brought him, becoming his only US No.1, knocking Genesis off the top spot, and of course everyone remembers the innovative stop-motion video made by Aardman Animations, the brains behind Wallace & Gromit. So is it any good? Well, aside from the oh-so-fake shakuhachi flutes throughout, the short answer is yes. As I said in my review of Hit (2003, #72), the fact this is so overplayed and so 1980s prevents it from being a true five-star track, but it remains compelling in its Motown-esque beat, its suggestive lyrics and its bombastic rhythm section.

Onto something more serious. 'Don't Give Up' has a longer intro than on the single version, but it still features Kate Bush and still scores very highly. The production is crisp and the instrumental section is lush. The keyboards remain bright and Levin's 'funk fingered' bass playing adds a down-to-earth feel to this song about unemployment and dejection. The problem though is Bush; her range might suit the song, but her delivery just doesn't have the emotional clout to completely carry the mood. She is still in 'Running Up That Hill' mode and though it doesn't exactly ruin the song, it never really gels either.

'That Voice Again', co-written by guitarist David Rhodes, is the only song on here that comes to close to matching the brilliance of 'Red Rain'. Unlike 'Red Rain' it's bombastic, bouncy and packed with plenty of punch. And that's fine. But the beauty of this song is that manages to combine a hyperactive drum section (courtesy of Manu Katché) with the sensitivity and power of Gabriel's voice, which comes into its own amidst the shimmering keyboards. The harmonies are sweet, and the lyrics are heartfelt and meaningful. Perhaps it is a little long, but not enough to spoil the wonderful sensation you get from hearing it.

'In Your Eyes' is, again, a commercial sounding song, but unlike others of the day (Genesis included), this is not reduced to a weepy ballad by fancy effects and overzealous production. Instead the jangly keyboards serve as a foil to the world influences and the merry feel of the piece is brought to fruition. On the Secret World tour (1993) this track came into its own with the addition of Paula Cole's vocals, but here the solo from Youssou N'Dour and the creepily low vocals from violinist L. Shankar will do just fine.

From hereon in things get more downbeat and go downhill. 'Mercy Street' retains the cerebral, introspective core without the commercial trappings. The subject matter in question is the American playwright Anne Sexton, and the song copies its title from her 1969 play. It's not so much that this is inpenetrable; instead, the change in texture comes as a bit of a shock (on vinyl, it may have been less so, since this would have been the start of the second side). This is so quiet and acquired that it would seem more at home on Up (2002) than on this otherwise upbeat album.

Speaking of upbeat, 'Big Time' reassures us and returns us to something ressembling the first five songs. This great satire of the yuppie culture became an ironic hit and like 'Sledgehammer' featured an animated video. Its lyrics are a lot simpler than, say, 'Don't Give Up', but the continual emphasis on big allows them to flow well. What is more, the backing to this savaging of narcissism is bubbly, creating something so incredibly catchy you will struggle to keep your head still.

The last two tracks, sadly, fall short. 'We Do What We're Told (Milgram's 37)' is almost ghostly in its feel, which is appropriate considering its subject; the song is about the famous Milgram experiments of the 1960s which revealed that humans will generally obey those in authority out of self-preservation, even if their orders are of a most immoral nature. For the most part this is okay, it feels dark and shadowy - and then the mood is ruined by Gabriel's final, robotic lyrics; they feel disjointed and the whole thing suffers as a result. 'This Is The Picture (Excellent Birds)' suffers from a similar problem, which as before derives from the female vocals. This time courtesy of co-writer Laurie Anderson, they sound twee and overly dramatic. If the cowbell doesn't drive you mad by the end of the first minute, then the sell-out simplicity of the verses surely will.

Because of the success which 'Sledgehammer' brought Gabriel, comparison must be drawn to his former bandmates, who were also at the height of their commercial powers. In this comparison, So comes out as the winner on so many levels; while Invisible Touch (1986) comes across as fake, devoid of any real emotion, and pandering to Phil Collins' solo success, So manages to create a more commercial sound than its predecessors while retaining so much in the way of substance. It may not be the most consistent of albums; things really do get uneasy in the second half as the more ponderous side of Gabriel emerges. However the quality of the first half is reason enough to own this album. Over 20 years after its release So still stands as a record which both defined the time in which it emerged and has survived the test of the following decades.

3.89 out of 5

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 - #72: Hit (2003)

Peter Gabriel's most recent... 'offering' is the compilation Hit, a comprehensive double album of all his hits and personal favourites. Like a Kate Bush offering, Hit is essentially two albums in one: the side subtitled 'Hit' contains all of his most commercially successful songs, while 'Miss' comprises of less successful songs which also met with critical acclaim.Gabriel has had a solo career spanning three decades and yet has only released two 'greatest hits'. Both Hit and its predecessor, Shaking The Tree (1990), came at times when Gabriel had come into or returned to the public eye, and both sought to remind listeners that there was a lot more to him than just 'Sledgehammer'. Shaking The Tree came four years after So (1986), Gabriel's most commercial successful offering. At this time it was clear that his output was not only slowing, but changing in its intentions and focus. In between So and the wholly different Us (1992), Gabriel had gone into world music overdrive with Passion (1989), the soundtrack to The Last Temptation Of Christ (1988). This influence would show prominently on Us. Hit, in the same way, came just a year after his 'comeback' Up (2002), a shift to minimalist and acute introspection and a complete departure from the days of So.

The 'Hit' side opens with 'Solsbury Hill'. This song, written about leaving Genesis, is taken from Peter Gabriel 1 (1977). It opens with some of the finest acoustic guitar on record, a simple enough riff which carries all the power of a Dylan classic. Then the flutes kick in to make room for Gabriel's angelic tones. And that is not hyperbole - Gabriel's voice here is melodious and mellifulous. Few others could deliver a song about falling out with the people who made you famous and yet make it a very happy listen.

'Shock The Monkey', from Peter Gabriel 4 (1982, #80), is a step backward after such a great start. As I said before in my review of PG4, this song about primitive urges of jealousy has vast ambitious; it is a very inventive metaphor to use in describing that most basic of human emotions. But while 'Solsbury Hill' was a brilliant effort which just happened to become a pop hit, 'Shock The Monkey' feels like it was deliberately written as a pop song. Considering what he had to compete with in the early-1980s, this is almost by default a number that is at best a hard listen and at worse just plain annoying.

'Sledgehammer' and 'Don't Give Up' are both from So and are a return to form if not formula (see what I did there?). Being a collection of singles, this version of 'Sledgehammer' has disposed of the rather annoying flute introduction contained on the original album. But this song is still not perfect, for one reason. While the original version was fresh but let down by the annoying flutes, this radio edit is flawed because it has been relentlessly overplayed, so that it now feels a little too 1980s to be considered a proper masterpiece. 'Don't Give Up', on the other hand, is more heartfelt and thought-provoking. It has in its favour both the gorgeous instrumentalism and an in-form Peter. The let-down is the female vocals: Kate Bush, fresh from Hound Of Love (1985), sounds too kooky for this song, undermining its emotional impact. (Gabriel connoisseurs, or anyone who has seen the Secret World film, will know that Paula Cole does it way better).

Bush is also the problem on the next track. 'Games Without Frontiers' was never one of Gabriel's better songs, at least when compared to some of the stuff on Peter Gabriel 3 (1980). While the musical side of things is very attractive, Gabriel is again trying to hard to do pop while neglecting the purpose of this song about warfare. What is also annoying is that he has subtletly tweaked the lyrics to be more politically correct. Sure, Whistle me tunes/ We piss on the goons in the jungle is hardly suited to the 21st-century lexicon, but then this is supposed to be an historical record of Gabriel's work, not an opportunity for him to correct his mistakes.

'Big Time', also from So, is a carbon copy of the album original. Clocking in at 4:29, there was no need to create an FM-friendly version. This was an ironic hit, in that became successful by attacking the very thing which made it successful. It's a savage attack on 80s narcissism and greed, told through a man with a big head and bigger ego - everything is big, from the words he speaks to the pillow on his bed. With lines as sublime as When I show them round my house to my bed/ I had it made like a mountain range, with a snow-white pillow for my big fate head, it's a caustically catchy song and one of the better tracks on So.

Next comes a real oddity. 'Burn You Up, Burn You Down' is a new track, which could be described as a 'non-LP single' in the sense that it sound like an offcut from Peter Gabriel 4. It's insanely catching from outset and the lyrics are easy to pick up on: Pilgrim knows the road to go/ And many times we told you so may not be the most intelligible lines ever written, but they fit very well. Having said all that, in the final third this song runs completely of steam, slowly fading out into a vocal exercise for all involved. By the end, you've gone from tapping your toe and singing along to wondering what the hell just happened.

A truncated version of 'Growing Up' is the first song taken from Up. While the original, which is over 7 minutes long, enticed you with long and atmospheric instrumentals to build you up, this cuts straight to the chase and as such that feel of an obsessive masterwork is lost. But the strength of 'Growing Up' is that, like a lot of Gabriel's singles, they are idiosyncratic and as such instantly recognisable.

This is certainly the case with the next two songs. 'Digging In The Dirt' and 'Blood Of Eden', both taken from Us, are more subtle if no less atmospheric. 'Digging In The Dirt' begins with a subdued, slightly sinister opening, before becoming a full-blown world-rocker. It's angry yet tender, aggressive and yet restrained by the textures brewing in the background. It's a very fine piece which both stands well on its own and slots well into the album. 'Blood Of Eden', featuring the vocals of Sinéad O'Connor, is a deeply emotional number complete with crooning violins and sensitive guitar. Gabriel is on top form vocally, as is O'Connor, which creates another heart-surger. Again, it's annoyingly truncated, loosing an entire verse, and yet none of the emotion or passion is lost.

If only the same could be said for 'More Than This'. Lifted straight out of Up, this is not a good song either in its original, 6-minute form or the short version included here. It's a little uninspiring, considering all the stuff that is going on. That serves to make it more choatic and incoherent, rendering the whole thing a let-down.

But before long, we turn back the clock to 1980 and 'Biko', the closer to Peter Gabriel 3. Again, it's a little shorter to make room for all the tracks. But this is a coup because the song sounds almost exactly the same. All the experiments work - the humanitarian lyrics are untouched, so that lines like When I try and sleep at night/ I can only dream in red/ The outside world is black and white/ With only one colour dead still resonate. 'Steam' is lifted straight from Us and retains its impact. Critics at the time put this down as a rehash of 'Sledgehammer'; while the themes of this song are similar, this actually feels fresher, if only because it wasn't as overplayed as 'Sledgehammer' (how could it be?). While this is better performed live - see Secret World - it's still a great song and deserves its place on this compilation.

The last two songs on the 'Hit' side both send the other 13 into the shade. 'Red Rain', the finest track on So, is absolutely majestic. It pushes every button on a Gabriel fan: it's introspective, it's rich in texture, it's openly emotional, and it's highly intelligent when it comes to lyrics. Gabriel sings at the top of his range without straining, and as such this song about a recurring dream filled with blood is given the full treatment it deserves. Even better is 'Here Comes The Flood'. But this is not the overproduced, pulling-at-the-heartstrings original. This is taken from Shaking The Tree, and it's scaled back to just piano and vocals. This, and the slower tempo, makes it both easier to understand the lyrics and more powerful. It's the best track thus far.

'Miss' begins with 'San Jacinto'. A welcome return to Peter Gabriel 4, this is a catalogue of world music: Asian instrumentals to set the tone, mild amounts of African drumming just after the 2-minute mark, and Native Americans are the subject of the lyrics. It's a subtle number, hinting at his later work, which makes you see why this didn't become a hit. It wouldn't have work as a single simply because it is too intelligent to be considered chart-worthy.

No Self-Control', from its predecessor, open aggressively with the multiple synthesisers and xylophone parts. This is one of the few occassions when xylophones can be described as moody or sinister. Gabriel conveys in his delivery a feeling of utter desperation and claustrophobia. The repeating line I don't know how to stop/ I don't know how to stop. Once again Kate Bush is on hand to prevent this from being a complete triumph, but this is a very mature and atmospheric marvel which provides, if nothing else, the ideal introduction to Gabriel's best album.

'Cloudless', featuring the Blind Boys of Alabama, is the first and only track from Long Walk Home (2002), the soundtrack from the film Rabbit-Proof Fence (2002) about Australian aborigines escaping correction programmes into the 1930s. The basic rhythms were sampled and put to better use on 'Sky Blue' on Up. Here, although Gabriel does contribute, this feels like a world track without his art rock motifs. As a result we are led to question both the quality of the song and its purpose on the album.

Order is restored by 'The Rhythm Of The Heat'. Another track from Peter Gabriel 4, it's untweaked and as such retains all the original's benefits and qualities. The musique concrète of the ticking clock, Gabriel's whispering scream-of-a-delivery, the meticulous production, the drumming pandemonium - it 's all brilliant stuff (see my review of the album at #80 for more details). The same can't be said for 'I Have The Touch'. Here, all the African influences have been stripped away. The opening has been replaced by backwards speech and distinctly Western drumming; the ending lacks the charm of the original by replacing it with an exhibition of self-indulgent guitar-plucking. As such this misses the mark by a very long way.

To join a long list of those to quote Monty Python: "And now for something completely different." 'I Grieve' is another track culled from Up, and so you would expect it to be different. Written in the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks, this does the subject matter justice even at the expense of becoming a vocal workout for Gabriel. It does sound at points like a means for him to prove that, at 52, he can still deliver vocals with the power and strength needed. Frankly, he didn't need to - it's obvious.

'D.I.Y.' is the only song liften from Peter Gabriel 2 (1978), which entered out chart at #85. As I more or less said before, this is a simple exercise in late-1970s pop which is too simplistic to be considered a classic - "minimalism with a distinct indifference to [texture]", or something along those lines. Sure, it's a good pop song - but Gabriel didn't get as good as he is by writing good pop songs, did he? The next song is another strange choice. 'A Different Drum' is lifted out of Passion and feels distinctly out of place, just like 'Cloudless'. In the context of the entire soundtrack, this is a very good song, which like the whole album grows on you the more you listen to it. Here, it's completely at see amid the rock-world hybrids. It might make you want to hear it in its proper context, but that's about it.

Back to Up now with 'The Drop'. The closer on its album is a very solemn affair. Like 'Here Comes The Flood' it's just Peter and a piano, but the difference is that this is completely void of any message of hope or a future. It's a song about death, the kind of thing you'd listen to lying on your back amid a sea of candles. The lyrics are almost morbid, and even if they're indistinct at times, after a few listens they dwell deep inside you.

The reputation of 'The Tower That Ate People', taken from OVO (2000, #81), should mean that any different version would tarnish the quality of the song, let alone a fully-blown remix. Here, I am glad to say, I was wrong. Sure, the more industrial, Robert Fripp-inspired influences are gone, but their place is amply filled by angry keyboards, strange screeches and heavy drums. The lyrics are more processed, but this doesn't matter; and the instrumental section in the middle really create the image of machinery and chaos which made the original so compelling.

From one of the best songs included on the album, to one of the worst. 'Lovetown', taken from the soundtrack to Philadelphia (1994), is by all standards rubbish. It's Gabriel's attempt at soul music, which he just can't manage. The song just isn't suited to his vocal range - it's all wrong in all ways. The guitar is lazy, the lyrics are lacklustre and the result is the least compelling track he has ever produced.

Thankfully, the next two songs reward our perseverance so that we almost forget 'Lovetown' ever existed. 'Father Son' is straight out of OVO and as I said before is an excellent song. Like all his good soundtrack stuff, it both stands up on its own and relates part of the story. Gabriel's delivery gels well with the Black Dyke Mills Band, and the feeling you get from listening to it as a deeply satisfying one. The other, 'Signal To Noise', is one of the best songs on Up. Beginning with the atmospheric drum and violins, Gabriel half-croons, half-sneers the lyrics before blossoming into some wonderfully contained screams. By the end the energy level is critical and the whole thing explodes with the words Receive and transmit! so that you are absolutely blown away.

'Downside Up' is the only live track on the album, and it's just as well. Melanie Gabriel, Peter's daughter, delivers the female vocals a lot better than Elizabeth Frazer, whose original version on OVO sounded downright prissy and horrible. But the result of this is that everything good about the original piece is lost - the guitars, for instance - and replaced by something gratituous and awful. The annoying violins add nothing, nor does David Rhodes' guitar; Peter sounds weak where Paul Buchanan was so strong; and the OVO, OVO, OVO chant at the end is incredibly annoying.

It's just as well then that we finish on a high. 'Washing Of The Water', from Us, is a tender, sombre and swelling number which again sees Gabriel reaching exhilirating vocal peaks. It's mellow up to a point, with the drumming gentle, but there are always subtle hints of something brooding under the surface. It's a great finisher, although fans might want to avoid the dodgy version recorded with Jools Holland in 2003.

Gabriel's work is not suited to compilations, and so Hit is a frustrating collection for all but the casual listener. Those who have studied his music in greater depth than simply buying his singles will be disappointed by some of the inclusions. Where, I might ask, are such heights of genius as 'Secret World', 'That Voice Again', or 'Down The Dolce Vita'? The soundtrack inclusions, barring those from OVO, as generally below-far; there is not enough from Peter Gabriel 2 and it focusses too much on his post-So career to make it a truly definitive collection. On the other hand, this is not just an album for casual fans. The versions of 'Here Comes The Flood' and 'The Tower That Ate People' are brilliant enough to make you buy this for them alone. In short, Hit is a good collection released at an appropriate time in Peter's career. If nothing else, it reassures the more impatient among us that Gabriel has at least spent his time meticulously creating albums instead of approving endless compilations.

3.77 out of 5

Top 100 Albums - #80: Peter Gabriel 4 (1982)

At number 80 is Peter Gabriel 4, the follow-up to its smash predecessor. Titled Security in the USA, it is a pivotal album in Gabriel's catalogue which showcases his fascination with world music and the beginnings of his commerical streak which culminated in So (1986).

After spending his first two solo albums fumbling around for a sound, Gabriel struck gold on Peter Gabriel 3 (1980). Unlike the light-hearted Peter Gabriel 1 (1977) and the subdued oddity Peter Gabriel 2 (1978), this had a darker, more atmospheric feel, encapsulating in Gabriel's claustrophobic lyrics and Phil Collins' thundery drumming. For the follow-up, Gabriel relocated to Ashcombe House in Bath to experiment with the latest electronic samplers and develop his new-found love of world music. After the commercial success of his last album, Gabriel was free to tour more elaborately and purchase more complicated equipment to add to the much-anticipated follow-up.

On these grounds, 'The Rhythm Of The Heat' is an ideal choice as the opening track, taking the darkly claustrophobic feel of Peter Gabriel 3 and adding the ticking clock, à la musique concrète - that is, the use of sounds recorded from the real ('concrete') world to create or compliment music, utilised brilliantly by Pink Floyd on 'Money'. Based on psychoanalyst Carl Jung's experiences of African drumming, it's a very atmospheric piece which draws you in, slowly but surely, before the darkness takes control. Gabriel's delivery is somewhere between a echoed whisper and a scream, as he lets the music do the talking. It's a very meticulous and intelligent piece, in which we get the first taste of world music on the record as the suspense dissolves into the wide pandemonium of the aforementioned drums.

'San Jacinto' moves from Africa to Asia, opening with an elegant instrumental backdrop faintly reminiscent of 'Flotsam And Jetsam' (see my review of Peter Gabriel 2). To make things even more eclectic, this is a song about Native Americans; the protagonist is an elderly man who despairs at seeing his native culture overwhelmed by the standardisation of white American settlers.. The lyrics smack of references to this in a very subtle way, even including extracts from what sounds like the Sioux language. Like a lot of Gabriel's later work, this is a heavily textured piece which explores religion and spirituality without being preachy, and for that reason the meaning isn't always clear. The refrain, San Jacinto/ I hold the line, is sung with great passion by Gabriel, perhaps alluding to why the song become a live favourite during the Secret World tour.

'I Have The Touch' is another in-your-face track, whose drums this time have a much more electronic feel. But David Lord's echoey production and the pace of the song give the feeling of this being played to a crowd of dancing fans. The lyrics are simple yet clever; lines like Any social occassion, it's "Hello, how do you do?/ All those introductions, I never miss my cue capture the themes of communication and human empathy. Though at time things sound a little synthetic - especially in the unnecessary bass before the middle-eight - this is a highly listenable song which doesn't lose anything in the process.

Hereoin in things become a little more difficult. 'The Family And The Fishing Net' is a song which compares the modern marriage ceremony to a voodoo ritual - hardly Gabriel's most anodyne subject matter. From the start it is relentless in its deceptive tempo, which is slower than 'I Have The Touch' but creates a sinister feel of something lurking behind the listener. The main criticism of this though is Gabriel's voice: not only is he often very off-putting in his choice of notes, he is also sometimes difficult to comprehend. Unlike on Peter Gabriel 2, this doesn't matter because the music is rich enough to support the song, but as we shall see this is a problem which afflicts this album a little too much.

It is often suggested that the track culled as a single is usually the worst on the album. 'Shock The Monkey' is a case in point. Rather than being about animal rights - as many suggested at the time - this is about jealousy, taking the idea that envy causes human beings to behave in primitive and instinct ways. This is a great idea, but the result is a number which is lyrically very flat and musically very irritating. The world influences are there, but they are squandered on what is essentially a pop song, a chance for Gabriel to showboat his vocal range while neglecting the best features of what could have been a brilliant song.

'Lay Your Hands On Me' marks the end of the typical mid-album dip. Gabriel's choice of themes remain diverse as he explores healing through trust, something he would expand on ten years later. This is a quieter and friend number, but the synthesised rhythms and deep keyboards keep up a brooding, sinister façade. The opening lines are both psychedelic and Biblical: Sat in the corner of the garden grill/ With the plastic flowers on the windowsill/ No more miracles, loaves and fishes/ Been so busy with the washing of the dishes. There are some subtle yet wonderful riffs in this piece on what sounds like a steel drum of some kind. True, this is a little too long, but not to the extent that it becomes boring, especially with the energetic guitar-drum ending.

Good as this track is, it is nothing compared to 'Wallflower'. Beginning with the combination of shimmering keyboards, high-pitched guitars and Uilleann pipes, this sounds ethereal and mystical even before Gabriel launches into the lyrics. Like 'Biko' on the previous album, this is a song about human rights and the treatment of prisoners, this time focussing on Latin America rather than South Africa. This is a wonderfully poetic number which showcases Gabriel's talents without being ostentatious. Like 'Family Snapshot', you get the impression that aspects of Gabriel's own life are in this piece. As if that wasn't enough, the chorus is pure beauty: You have gambled with your own life/ And you face the night alone/ While the builders of the cages/ Sleep with bullets, bars and stone/ They do not see your road to freedom/ That you build with flesh and bone. At the end of the song, Gabriel promises that I will do what I do, over and over - perhaps hinting at his prominent future involvement in human rights.

'Kiss Of Life' sends us out dancing. With its processed African drumming and Latin-style trumpets, it's a showcase for all things world, and a great track to dance to. Gabriel has rightly chosen to end on a bright note having spent the majority of the album expounding his views on the negative side of the modern world - albeit in a slightly lighter way that on Peter Gabriel 3. This is a splendid track which, while it can't possible match 'Wallflower', would have made a much better singler than 'Shock A Monkey'. With its infectious refrains and sensitive use of keyboards and guitar to balance out the world music, this is a wonderful closer.

Both through his records and his label Realworld, Gabriel has done more than most in the music industry in bringing world music to the fore. And this is the record to turn to if you're not convinced. Gabriel doesn't just take token samples from different continents and bung them on average Western songs so that they sell better. Instead he weaves the rhythms of the different genres into a rich tapestry, creating a very textured soundscape over which the social and political themes can be based. Sometimes things come unstuck in either the production or his choice of combinations - with both being the case on 'Shock The Monkey'. But in general this is a sterling effort from Gabriel which sets him apart both as a musical pioneer and a survivor of the punk era which had killed off so many of his contemporaries. If nothing else, this is a great way toi prove his abilities as a musician without either showboating, as he would do on Birdy (1984), or fumbling around, as he did in the late-1970s.

3.75 out of 5

Top 100 Albums - #81: OVO (2000)

Peter Gabriel's second appearance is his soundtrack to the Millennium Dome show, OVO. Along with his other soundtracks - Birdy (1984), Passion (1989) and Long Walk Home (2002) - this focusses on Gabriel the composer rather than the singer, and features many highly talented guests.Gabriel's output had slowed rapidly since his early days of post-Genesis burning the midnight oil. After the release of So (1986), six years passed until he delivered the follow-up, Us (1992), if we discount Passion, the soundtrack to Martin Scorsese's The Last Temptation Of Christ. After the release of Us and the end of the brilliant Secret World tour in 1994, Gabriel devoted his energies to his world music record label, Realworld, as well as beginning to write some of the songs which would appear on Up (2002). In 1997, he was approached to compose the main show for the Millennium Dome, to premiere on New Year's Eve, 1999. Unlike his previous film soundtracks, this was a live action piece and installation, which required greater ambition and outside help. The result is an album which attempts, through many different styles and voices, to chronicle the exploits of the human race over two millennia through three generations of a family.

'The Story Of OVO' is a rap-like number, designed to outline the story. It opens like a complex outtake from Passion, before Omi Hall and Neneh Cherry (of all people) interject. As we shall see throughout the course of the album, the story revolves around the characters of Theo (the agrarian father), Ion (the industrial and impetuous son) and his sister Sofia. While the point of the track is to set out the plot for those not used to the idea of a concept album (or rock opera), it is pointless to retell it without considering the individual songs. Although this is a rap song, this does not feel like Gabriel ageing without any grace. Indeed his vocal contributions are a perfect foil for the other vocals, which gel surprisingly well.

'Low Light' switches the emphasis from rap to celtic music, while keeping the world influence. This track begins with a long and perfectly constructed instrumental section, which acts to set the scene on a world of unravaged and harmonious beauty, like the one over which Theo would preside. Like a long of progressive music, this is song to take you places in a darkened room. The haunting lyrics of Irish vocalist Iarla Ó Lionáird don't harm the piece at all, and like a lot of world music lyrics the musical texture is so poised and intricate that you don't need to understand or translate the words to be emotionally moved by them.

'The Time Of The Turning' in the story marks the beginnings of an economic and environmental shift, as the old agricultural world of Theo, based around living in harmony with the earth, begins to pass away. Ritchie Havens' delivery is earthy, breaking and absolutely suited to this song, while Elizabeth Frazer puts in a good performances of the like that made Massive Attack's 'Teardrop' so poignant. Backed by what sounds like a mandolin and a subtle host of violins, this is another deeply atmospheric piece which deserves many plaudits.

The first sign of Gabriel biting off more than he can chew comes on the next track, 'The Man Who Loved The Earth/ The Hand That Sold Shadows'. The opening is a carbon copy of 'The Story Of OVO' with just the lyrics removed. As a result it sounds too much like a field full of grasshoppers and angry drummers to serve any purpose, adding little to the storyline. By the time the song shifts to the second part, we still don't get any more information about Theo: the piece is littered with industrial-sounding guitars and steel drums which feel completely out of place in a scenario thoroughly fit for folk or psychedelia.

'The Time Of The Turning (Reprise)/ The Weavers' Reel' restores focus and the sees the first appearance in the story properly of Beth, the mother figure who sees the future in the patterns that she weaves. The lyrics, delivered beautifully by Frazer, are of rock opera quality:

It's the time of the turning and the old world's falling
Nothing you can do can stop the next emerging
Time of the turning, and we better learn to say our goodbyes

The piece then takes on a more lively turn. An anxious acoustic gives way to an Irish reel and the feeling of flux and rapid change is conveyed perfectly in this lustred number, which finishes with some powerful and aggressive Dhol drumming to keep the world music influence and give the impression of a global change.

All these songs so far have been great, but they cannot top the next two songs. 'Father Son' sees the death of Theo as his world begins to fall. Ion, his stubborn and rebellious son, sits with him and struggle to come to terms with the distance between them. Gabriel sings this accompanies only by piano and a muffled Black Dyke Mills Band, and he sings with such heartfelt abandon that he might just as well be singing about his own father. It's an introspective masterpiece which not only achieves its function as a part of the story, but which stands alone as a damn fine song outside of the concept.

The other true masterpiece, for different reasons, is 'The Tower That Ate People'. Here all the serenity of green fields has been replaced by the menacing of iron and steel, as Ion transforms the Earth through machinery. He creates this mighty tower and builds machines to liberate the people of the Earth, but they end up becoming enslaved by them (hence the title). This has a darkly industrial feel, with wonderful guitar work and punchy drums. Gabriel's delivery is angry, fiery and potent enough to send shivers down your spine. This is a deliberately claustrophobic song, designed to force you in and leave no means of escape. Not only that, but lines like We're building up and up/ 'Til we can touch the sky and Man feed machine, machine feed man lyrically convey the modern ideas of progress and perfection that Gabriel was trying to convey.

So far, then, so very good. But here's the bad news. The next four tracks all fall short, in that they convey the storyline but don't stand well enough as songs in their own right. 'Revenge' smacks of anger, retribution and raw energy, depicting the rebellion of the disillusioned Sky People, led by Beth, against Ion's industrial dystopia. The trouble is, for all the wailing keyboards and attacking drumming, it's too short to develop into anything meaningful. The same can be said for 'White Ashes'. Again, the storyline holds up - we do form pictures in our minds of Ion's empire being incinerated, and him with it, as the female vocals conjure up images of flames. But the electric drums and screeches don't so much as add as subtract from this piece, which would have been much more pleasant and minimalist without them.

'Downside Up' should be better on all counts. It features great vocals from an in-form Paul Buchanan. It keeps the story moving, talking about Sofia's fated and forbidden love for Sky Boy which permanently unites the Earth People and Sky People before the great flood (no jokes about a certain song, please). It's a great song melodic with rolling guitars. And yet it is reduced to average nature by one critical error: giving Frazer the lead female vocal. While she was well suited to the quieter efforts, on this rockier piece she sounds prissy and weak, bringing down the energy of the whole piece. A better version is between Peter Gabriel and his daughter Melanie, the live version of which is included on Hit (2003).

'The Nest That Sailed The Sky' is the sending-off of OVO, the child of Sofia and Sky Boy into the unknown future. It's a beautiful piece which again conjures up images of an open sky with the future of the world hovering and sailing over the waters. But for all the beauty of the flutes and the keyboards, this is a little too long and repetitive, albeit in a very subtle and atmospheric way. By the time you've got halfway through this instrumental, you've got the message, and the remainder sounds like the kind of music you play mid-way through the credits on a film.

Thankfully, this is not the end. The closer, 'Make Tomorrow', is Gabriel's expression of hope for the century to come. Though it begins rather slowly, this swells with an atmospheric murmur into some wonderful guitar and double bass, before Buchanan comes in and sings at the top of his range with heavenly panache. Frazer returns to form with the female vocals, delivering her vocals with an ethereal grace. And Havens pops up at the end with a welcome interjection, singing a part to which Buchanah would not have been suited. Everything is here to showcase Gabriel's composing skills, and while this is not in the same league as something like 'Father Son', it's still extraordinary.

Like much of Peter Gabriel's later work, OVO was panned by AllMusicGuide.com. The supposedly all-knowing, comprehensive guide, claimed that: "OVO sounds labored, choppy, and pasted together... musically it isn't consistent enough to sustain the listener's interest."¹ Sadly for them, they were wrong. Very wrong. While Birdy and Passion both showcased his abilities as an instrumental composer (and rightly so), this is a concept album or rock opera passed off as a soundtrack. And like a proper concept album or rock opera, there are themes and narratives which are neither convoluted nor lost in the music. Sure, this may not be on the same scale of The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway (1974), but it is just as ambitious, with great vocals which gel rather than jar with the music. There are flaws - it's too long, has a lot of filler in it and not all of the attempts to synthesise different genres pay off. But as an album in its own right and a document of the Millennium optimism which vanished 18 months later, OVO is a great record that will stand the test of time.

3.75 out of 5

References

¹ Thom Jurek, 'OVO: Millennium Show', http://www.allmusicguide.com/cg/amg.dll?p=amg&token=&sql=10:fnfexqukldhe. Accessed on July 30 2007.

Top 100 Albums - #85: Peter Gabriel 2 (1978)

Peter Gabriel makes his first of nine appearances on the chart with his second solo effort, released in 1978. Peter Gabriel's rather ignominious split with Genesis in 1975 had seen the beginning of an unwanted, media-induced competition on the prog scene between the two to outdo each other both commercially and critically. After installing drummer Phil Collins as lead singer, Genesis punched first with A Trick Of The Tail (1976) which received critical acclaim as a return to the quintessential Englishness and prog-psychedelia of Selling England By The Pound (1973). Gabriel 'fought back' a year later with Peter Gabriel 1 (1977) and after this received very positive reviews and a successful tour he sought to continue this moment, especially after Genesis were realing from the departure of guitarist Steve Hackett.

The album begins with 'On The Air'. It opens very serenely, but don't be fooled. Before long the drums and guitar kick in and take you by surprise. There's everything you want from a rock song here - great yet simple drums, aggressive guitar, great bass lines from long-time collaborator Tony Levin that underscore everything. Gabriel's lyrics are psychedelic, when you can hear them. But sadly his voice is so garbled that the first lines recognisiable are Every morning I'm out at dawn, with the dwarves and tramps - the first lines of the second verse. That is the one thing that lets 'On The Air' down - the vocals which were obviously designed by the crowning glory, are almost impossible to make out save for the very good chorus and a few snippets here and there.

Having said that, it is a much better song overall than 'D.I.Y.'. It's bright enough, with twinking piano and crisp drumming, and the lyrics are both comprehensible and fully functioning, with lines like Don't tell me what I believe, 'cos I won't/ Don't tell me to believe in you, 'cos I don't. But musically this is way too simplistic. Peter Gabriel was renowned at this point in his career for extensively textured pieces which captured your imagination, as was present on the Genesis magnum opus, The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway (1974). But this is minimalism with a distinct indifference to it, and as a result it doesn't work.

'Mother Of Violence' takes the minimalism a little further by scaling things back to just Gabriel, piano and a little acoustic guitar. It is easier to make out most of the lyrics here, and the track takes the best parts of both the previous efforts and does its best to combine them. Occasionally a line or two will slip past and disappear into the texture, but most of the time this song about fear and family fulfils its function.

Much better though is the next track. 'A Wonderful Day In A One-Way World' has a clearer message, with politics coming to the forefront. This song is clearly about materialism and being standardised around modern social expectations. The music takes a beat seat to the lyrics in the verses, with only a few chinks of cowbell and some synthesiser undercurrents to back them up. Most of the time this pays off, as Gabriel's lyrics teeter on the edge of genius:

"My name is Einstein, do you know time is a curve?"
I said, "Stop old man, 'cos you've got a nerve
'Cos there's only one rule that I observe:
That time is money, and money I serve."

On the chorus the instruments rejoin and the whole thing somehow works, even if the end result is a little middle-of-the-road. 'White Shadow' goes one better by making the music more intrusive, with in-your-face keyboards and sinsiter bass from Levin, backed by standardised drumming from Jerry Marotta. But while the music is very good at setting the dark tone, Gabriel is away with the falsetto fairies. So while musically this is very good, Gabriel's singing shatters the mood to the extent that you not only can't understand what he's singing - you also don't really care that much. Which in this case is bad news.

'Indigo' is deeper in tone and more shallow in subject. The rhyming is simple to the point of being casual, but at least Gabriel's voice is pleasant enough to make you try to understand him. Like 'On The Air', Robert Fripp's poor production means you can always make out the individual instruments, and yet the vocals are a lot less discernable. Nevertheless, this does have a je ne sais quoi draw to it which is almost impossible to explain. 'Animal Music', meanwhile, is littered with dark bass lines and decent guitar shredding from Sid McGinnis, and yet it feels inane. This song about magic has lyrics which sound like they were written by Paul Daniels as an advert to his waning audiences. It's a trashy pop song which tries too hard and ends up sounding like a chaotic miasma of noice, and very little more.

'Exposure', co-written by Fripp, is a showcase for Fripp's own inventiveness. In the days of King Crimson, he created frippertronics. Essentially, this involves putting two two-track tape machines beside each other and running the tape around the two in a figure of eight with both players on at the same time. This creates a delay of between 3 and 5 seconds between the same parts on, for instance, a guitar, depending on how far apart the tape machines are. It's very clever, but overall this feels like an ambient piece, something that Brian Eno could have created with half the effort. It feels like a self-indulgent showcase of Fripp's questionable talents, like Gabriel was contractually obliged to let him his bit of fun and in the process ruin the record.

'Flotsam And Jetsam' has an Oriental feel at the start, indicating the begininngs of Gabriel's fascination with world music that would rear its head properly in the next two albums. Lyrics like Doing nothing, stuck in the mud fit in rhythmically with the feel of the piece, and though again they - annoyingly - make very little sense, that is not the main flaw of the song. That is that it's only 2:22 long, so with all the fancy instrumental work there is scarcely enough time to develop any kind of thread to link the lazy lines together.

'Perspective' is probably the only time on the album when things gel perfectly. There's some great drums both at the start and through, and for the first time we have (a) guitars and keyboards playing together and not off each other; and (b) a lyrical hook (I need perspective). Add a very good sax part into the mix and you have a mild-mannered toe-tapper, with Gabriel singing the best that he can be while Fripp is at the desk. It's quick, it's catchy, it's in-your-face and it's brilliant.

'Home Sweet Home' turns things right down to close the album. This is also very impressive. With the over-produced aggression stripped away, the lyrics, as much as possible, come through and you can understand the story which they chronicle. It's a mournful ballad about having a family, death and moving on from tragedy, with lines like "We gotta get out of here, you", she said,/ "I've been saying it all the while"/ When I came home from work that night/ She jumped out the window with our child. This is a line that would be easily at home on some of Gabriel's later, more introspective work, particularly Us (1992). It's a beautiful piece which doesn't overstretch its purpose, and the album is drawn to a close by a wonderful organ part.

When considered alongside the rest of his discography, this feels like a case of one step forward, two steps backward for Gabriel. The one step forward is the introspective side of his work which would make his later albums more all-rounded and focus. The backward steps are the awful production - while Bob Ezrin overproduced parts of Peter Gabriel 1, he had at the courtesy to make Gabriel's vocals understandable - and the lack of focus. While its predecessor had the clear intention of being a departure from 'the Genesis sound' by experimenting with different styles and genres, Peter Gabriel 2 is a deeply frustrating record which has little complete purpose and no uniting concept. For all the positive touches, it is best described and treated as a transitional album, a bridge between the light-hearted creativity of Peter Gabriel 1 and the darker, more atmospheric tones of its successor.

3.73 out of 5