Genesis
....Calling All Stations...

THE REVIEW

There is a bastion of social psychology called the principle of authority. When a name, an institution, or something begins to gain consensus among humans, then beware of trying to change the features of that name, institution, or something. The phenomenon is well-presented in music. There's a name, let's say the name of a band... well, that name grows; from the smoky thoughts of a toilet bowl in the founders' houses, it expands first to brothels, then to bars, then it escapes the city's walls to overstep the grooves of kingdoms, landowners, the region, the nation, the continent, the planet, the galaxy, the universe... enough... otherwise, who the hell will play then? The subatomic particles? Well, after all, they are always better than that fart with a Vov breath from Vasco... Well, Pink Floyd without Waters have become platinum crap; Queen without Mercury two balls (Deacon and Taylor) with the curly dick (May), the Doors without Morrison a Chinese orphan renamed the child of an Iraqi couple (in this case the child would be a certain Ian Abstury... ), Nirvana without Cobain, Cobain without Nirvana... the egg without the chicken, an omelet without a crest, Genesis without Gabriel, a kind of Gabriel-like group. Genesis without Hakkett? another group, and Genesis without Collins?... obvious, you might say... THEY ARE NOT GENESIS ANYMORE... BUT NO; YOU FOOLS!!!!

Except for those few (and good) songs where good Phill (who resembles, ((indeed, I'm convinced it's really him)), a porn actor with a mustache who just last night, among this and that, tried with great difficulty to insert his flimsy copper wire into the tunnel of a knowledgeable Romanian), not without the contribution of the other two mates, designs an elegy to the mom (but in my opinion, the song "Mama" is a veiled goad at women who have abortions, which then, also according to me, are also abortions of women... !... or maybe our Phill reproaches his mother (an abortion of a woman, naturally... but) for not having aborted?...)), or declares all his generative impotence, confessing not to be the father of his own children ("No sons of mine" which, in my opinion, is the continuation of "Mama"). Well, as I was saying, except for those few valid episodes, Genesis with the porn actor Phill, have eaten so many and then again many boxes of beans... pouring them out in another form to the audience during the tours (the indigestion happened in the Year of the Lord 86/87...). Well... once the bean supply ran out, naturally that last aspermic testicle was retired... at least with Genesis... because he, undaunted, will continue in Hard production... (he will experiment at a vocal level even in cartoons... obviously... without balls anymore he couldn't just keep screwing Around Africans and Romanians!!!).

And at that point, what do the two surviving gentlemen Banks and Rutheford do? The only sensible thing to do: retire after 20 years of abstinence, producing for the last time some badass music... So the good Ray Wilson is called (he privately sleeps with normal women, not for show and behind a camera) and away... our ears can hear, no longer the cries of the bald dwarf, but gloomy and refined atmospheres... halfway between Black Sabbath (see the song "Dying for Love") and Queen (those without curly dick, though). I am referring to episodes like the superb title track or the even more majestic "Is not about us". Or finally, seriously take back that progressive rock definitively abandoned after that album where good Phill lit an incendiary cigarette... ("...and there were three..." he did have a mustache though!!!...), with masterful steps like "There Must Be Some Other Way" or "One man's fool". Guys, dispel the suggestions and don't be fooled by branded crap... still crap it is!! Episodes like Abacab or Invisible Touch represent the ass of the crap... better the ephemeral rebirth of the two poor imitators of themselves... or wouldn't it perhaps be better to say, of the originals, orphans of the failed roll drummer porn star?... bah... you be the judge... meanwhile I enjoy the record...