Marco Salzano

With a different, and better, production (and frankly it didn't take a George Martin to do better than King) we would definitely have had an album that we wouldn't have to be ashamed of. Nevertheless, several tracks are not bad at all, and then Gabriel's voice, albeit a bit raw, was already there, which is not a small thing. Personally, after having worn out the LPs from Trespass to Wind, I occasionally return to those "modest beginnings" with a certain pleasure and satisfaction. It's only (Christian) Pop but I like it.

The most representative album by Genesis with a capital G: imposing, romantic, surreal. All classics: the stellar opening of Watcher of the Skies; the wonderful simplicity of Time Table; the theatrical Get 'em out by Friday, steeped in bitter irony; the perfect mini suite Can Utility and the Coastliners. However, they pale in comparison to the brilliant Supper’s Ready, a paranormal journey into an Apocalypse in 9/8; one of the most devastating rock tracks of all time, not to mention death metal...

A magnificent multimedia hyper-album avant la lettre, intriguing and unprecedented in its blend of vastly different imaginaries (graffiti street gangs, Greco-Roman mythology, the various metaphysical paths of spiritual redemption from Buddhism to Dante, etc.).
While not reaching the perfection of Foxtrot (also due to the transitional instrumentals) and representing rather a digression in the stylistic evolution of the group, which would indeed record Trick of the Tail as if nothing had happened.

The album clearly shows certain Jazz-Rock/Fusion influences, probably due to Collins, even though some of the more experimental adventurousness of "The Lamb" is no longer present, and the contribution of Gabriel's brilliant lyrics is also missing. That said, "A Trick of The Tail" is a very eclectic and varied album, in the best tradition of the classic Genesis who knew how to be both complex and accessible, light and mystical, humorous and solemn, cynical and romantic, all at the same time.

Like the early Crimson, Trespass is all about the dynamics between quiet pastoral moments (12-string guitar, flute) or liturgical ones (organ, choir) and sudden Bach-like bursts from the organ with electric guitar backing. Overall, the mellotron is still used with moderation (I particularly love the trembling intro/outro of "White Mountain") compared to the later works.

Great debut with three classics right away: Alucard with its grand crimson riff and the spectral keyboards of Minnear. Funny Ways with its gentle pace over the vocal harmonies of the Shulman, featuring a rock interlude punctuated by the brass. Nothing At All, which starts from the folk of Steeleye Span and reaches the free jazz of Cecil Taylor, passing through Liszt in just a few minutes. Useless, instead, is the blues rock arrangement of the English anthem later copied by Queen.

Successful Concept that also has the rare virtue of compactness. There's no need to ramble on about the technical level but especially about the musical culture of the group, with references ranging from medieval polyphony to jazz, and an almost obsessive attention to detail. In short, you can't go wrong with GG.

With a less elaborate production than the Spectorian one, Harrison here reflects on the difficulty of experiencing transcendence in the "material" world, balancing between the torrid funk of the title track and the meditative interludes of sitar, tabla, and flute. And while the sarcastic Sue Me, Sue You Blues references the legal disputes among the Beatles, the core of the album consists of a series of ballads on religious and/or romantic themes, like Give Me Love, a typical joyful Harrisonian prayer, and the catchy Don't Let Me Wait.

Buried for years in an old trunk, these tapes (recorded surprisingly well by Peter Giles) document the embryonic state of KC (still without Lake), creators at this stage of a volatile folk rock/jazz blend reminiscent of Pentangle (and in some tracks, sung by Judy Dyble, former Fairport Convention). Included are two versions of Drop in (the future The Letters), here transformed into corrosive blues rock, two finger-picked I talk to the wind, and the melodic Under the Sky, which later appeared on Sinfield's first LP.