Like Rodney Dangerfield, Genesis has had a hard time getting respect. In the early '70s, when the group specialized in ambitious, theatrical story-songs, it attracted an avid cult following but was largely ignored by the rock press and public at large. Later in the decade, lead singer Peter Gabriel was finally recognized as a major talent -- but only after he'd left the band, who were at this point being derided as middlebrow throwbacks still in thrall to the pomposities of art rock. Even in the early '80s, when Genesis did finally shed its art-rock inclinations and move toward pop, becoming international stars in the process, the press was unimpressed, dismissing the group as easy-listening lightweights. By the '90s, even the solo success of members Phil Collins and Mike Rutherford was being held against the group, by then one of the best-known rock acts in the world.
All of which, to be honest, has been grossly unfair to the group. Granted, Genesis has made its share of mediocre albums -- perhaps even more than its share, considering how long the band has been around. But bad albums? None to speak of.
In fact, the worst that can be said of the group's early albums is that they sound dated, almost quaint. From Genesis to Revelation seems laughably "mod" at points -- for instance, the jazzy, bongo-spiked intro to "The Serpent" -- but that hardly takes away from the genuinely tuneful quality of the songs. Genesis was hardly a band when this was recorded, however, and it isn't until Trespass that we get any real sense of what this band has to offer. Unfortunately, it's something of a mixed bag. At their best, the lyrics are grippingly mythic, but too often Gabriel's wordplay loses its way in a forest of puns and self-conscious allusions; likewise the music, although often potently melodic and making nice of use of Tony Banks' semi orchestral approach to keyboards, is frequently sidetracked by too-busy arrangements and needlessly ornate embellishments.
That was pretty much the pattern for the band's early albums, though. Nursery Cryme, for instance, offers Grimm play with Mother Goose tales in the 10-minute "Musical Box," while Foxtrot concludes with the marathon "Supper's Ready," an ambitious, inscrutable 23-minute suite built around such titles as "Apocalypse in 9/8 (co-starring the delicious talents of Gabble Ratchet)." Stilted as this stuff sometimes sounded in the studio, it did have an edge in concert; indeed, the performances on Genesis Live are enough to make even the most skeptical listener reconsider the value of "The Return of the Giant Hogweed." But "edge" wasn't really what this band was looking for, and so Selling England by the Pound continues Genesis' journey into the conceptual, flanking blissfully melodic material such as "I Know What I Like (in Your Wardrobe)" with the self-consciously clever "Dancing with the Moonlit Knight" and its ilk. No wonder, then, that the group's masterpiece move -- an intensely abstruse double album entitled The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway -- is both brilliant and overblown, with moments of genuine majesty and long stretches of pointless obscurantism.
Gabriel left at this point, and Genesis auditioned hundreds of singers before finally deciding on Collins, who had been drumming with the group since Trespass (and who, in fact, had already sung lead on "More Fool Me," from Selling En gland). It was a canny choice, for Collins, though obviously possessing a voice of his own, sounded enough like Gabriel to ensure a smooth transition for the band. Even so, it isn't Collins' voice that makes A Trick of the Tail a turning point for the band -- it's the writing. Instead of showcasing the band's cleverness, this album puts the emphasis on the music, unveiling an unexpected gift for close-harmony singing in "Entangled." Wind and Wuthering expands the band's musical palette still further; typical is the droll clockwork effect that crops up during an instrumental segment of "One for the Vine." More telling, though, is the ballad "Your Own Special Way," a gorgeously lilting love song that seems a harbinger of the band's pop-friendly future.
Indeed, after Seconds Out -- a concert double album apparently intended to prove that Collins and company could handle the band's back catalogue -- the band made a genuine pop breakthrough with . . . And Then There Were Three. With guitarist Steve Hackett gone, Genesis' studio lineup is reduced to just Collins, Banks, and Rutherford, and while that doesn't noticeably affect the band's instrumental mix, it does hone the playing so that there's less empty flash and wasted energy. At this point, the songs are the focus, and while that doesn't prevent the band from showing off any (note the odd-metered rhythms of "Down and Out"), it does add power to character songs such as "Say It's Alright Joe" and gave the band its first U.S. pop success, through the winsome, upbeat "Follow You, Follow Me." Duke and ABACAB further enhance the group's pop reputation -- the former through "Misunderstanding," a simple, poignant broken-heart song that brings Collins to the fore as a writer, and the latter through "No Reply at All," a surprisingly complex composition that leaves the band plenty of playing room yet maintains strong melodic content. Unfortunately, these pop-oriented efforts are followed by Three Sides Live, a double album that's mostly live and totally tedious.
It hardly mattered, though, for by this point the band's superstar status had been established beyond the shadow of a doubt, and both Genesis and Invisi-ble Touch merely seemed to confirm its popularity. And not without reason, either, as both are sublimely melodic, producing hits as effortless and idiosyncratic as "That's All" (from Genesis) and "Tonight, Tonight, Tonight" (from Invisible Touch). But We Can't Dance, despite its strong pop inclinations, finds the band trying to reclaim some of its old turf, a move that works surprisingly well, thanks to tuneful-but-extended numbers such as "Driving the Last Spike" and "Fading Lights."
Collins left Genesis after the We Can't Dance tour, and Genesis stalled for time by releasing two live albums -- one of "short" pop hits, the other of "long" art-rock chestnuts -- before finally deciding to move on without him. Scots singer Ray Wilson, formerly of the little-known prog-rock band Stiltskin, was drafted by Banks and Rutherford to take Collins' place. Had he come in after Foxtrot, Wilson would have made for a smooth transition, but given the pop expectations engendered by Collins' tenure, his succession was deemed a failure, and Genesis slipped quietly into oblivion. Not that interest in the band evaporated, and Genesis Archives, Vol. 1 offered an olive branch to older fans by bringing back both Peter Gabriel and Steve Hackett to recut tracks from rare live recordings. Vol. 2 also relied mainly on live recordings, but without the advantage of reworked performances, it held only marginal interest. (J.D.CONSIDINE)
From the 2004 The New Rolling Stone Album Guide
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