Genesis
Invisible Touch

Genesis hit their lowest point between '83 and '86. But it's not too surprising, considering that if we take the music of those years, we clearly see that poor quality is the order of the day. We're in bad shape, and it must be said that our three, despite their claims, are not exempt. Even the guru Peter Gabriel doesn't resist temptation and releases a flashy and affected album full of pop songs the same year as the much-maligned 'Invisible Touch', also resorting to the most messed up ploy invented by MTV: the video aired twenty times a day (in his case, Sledgehammer).

These are sad times, full of ephemeral plastic, banality reigns almost unchallenged: I believe this should be kept in mind, at least to understand the reason behind the conception of certain steaming piles of crap that many records are. We were saying that Genesis do not escape the rule; they go with the flow and ride it well. There's something, but very hidden, of originality and creativity, but it's overshadowed by bloated, exaggerated, and rather pathetic electronic sounds; it's known that Tony, Mike, and Phil are good musicians, but you can't tell from this album, which makes the ensemble even more depressing. Adding a Third World-like graphic design makes the discontent more than understandable.

They manage to do worse than the self-titled '83 album, which was already lackluster, to put it mildly. A natural child of the Eighties, this "Invisible Touch" is a brazen and best-selling product, cheerful and annoying, with very little artistic vein, only capable of providing here and there some flashes which, more often than not, are noticeable only after a number of listens that are not easily bearable. However, let it remain in eternal memory that if it weren't Genesis, the record might, I say might, not be so bad.

Predictable electronic drums and ultra-catchy guitar riffs open the title track: sparkling as you like, perhaps gripping if you're in the mood to be charitable, but honestly not what we want to hear. The lyrics are pathetic, and listening to it twenty years later, it sounds absurd and chaotic, with the annoying sounds of the synth bass and a frightful "instrumental insert": if Wham had made it, it would have been a bomb, but unfortunately, it's Genesis, and that makes us shiver. "Tonight, Tonight, Tonight" is slightly better, almost nine minutes long, opened by drum machine-programmed rhythm and guitar blows that create an unsettling atmosphere, even if not very intense. Phil sings well and plays electronic drums alternating with real ones, Tony works in the background; here too there's the instrumental insert, which, though stuffed with synthetic sounds, manages to give the piece a unique significance, later trivialized by the subsequent opening when Phil pounds the drums (the Simmons sound is terrible) and Mike goes for distorted riffs. A faded closure, not a masterpiece at all, but not unacceptable either.

The really serious trouble starts coming with "Land Of Confusion," which relies on a sequencer-programmed synth bass riff (God help us…). The drums make a mess, Mike's lyrics ("My first political song" he says) are sincerely embarrassing and demagogic, dangerously low level; again, the electronic drums show the worst of themselves. The video full of downright ugly puppets mimicking the famous figures of the time, Ronald Reagan above all, is original. We're quite flabbergasted, but it seems like Genesis don't like us because right after they hit us with a syrupy and so sugar-laden mess it makes you nauseous. "In Too Deep" is a lousy song, a ballad so predictable it seems a parody; unfortunately, the intentions are romantic, but the result gives you chills, and not out of pleasure. More than anything, it induces self-harm: horrible piano as well as guitar, ugly electronic programming, all very indecent. Another poor song, "Anything She Does", has one merit: it doesn't feature electronic drums, and at least in terms of instrumentation, it's played a bit better, without useless goopiness. But it recalls other sad pieces like "Illegal Alien" and "Just A Job To Do", very bad things we'd rather lock away forever; plus Tony, with his synth brass sound, almost seems pitiful, he seems to have fallen so low, even his interventions on "Second Home By The Sea" seem light-years away.

Fortunately comes, after this devastating trio, what I feel to call a good song, "Domino", a sort of mini-suite divided into two parts, "In The Glow Of The Night" and "The Last Domino". Let’s be clear, it’s not a masterpiece and doesn’t even recall past glories, but in a record like this, it shines like gold. The first section starts relaxed with a simple guitar riff and sweet keyboard whispers; Phil's vocal performance is good, less effective are the electronic pad breaks and the now obsolete inserts of synthesized brass, while Mike operates in the background with discretion. The second part is announced by a delicate keyboard passage, with the voice floating smoothly: not very emotional but at least pleasant. Next comes a Simmons drum ride on which Tony embroiders with dry, martial notes, while Mike dives into rhythmic hard riffs. The keyboards carve out more delicate passages with a vaguely ethnic flavor alongside the percussion, only to return to more frenetic phases. The excessive deployment of synthetic and sampled sounds is detrimental, which pollute a product otherwise decent. In fact, I think "Domino" gives its best live, where the arrangement is necessarily sparser. Even the lyrics are at least decent, comparing man's life to a giant domino where sooner or later everyone must fall.

But the partial relief doesn’t last long, because right after we find perhaps the most irritating track of the album. "Throwing It All Away" is a detestable example of sycophantic pop and catchiness to the umpteenth degree; insipid choruses, annoying guitar, a precursor of today’s trends that we find in those cheesy songs by Hillary Duff and the like. Horrible. The closing is entrusted to the instrumental "The Brazilian": not an outstanding piece but at least somewhat intriguing. Dominated by electronic drum rolls, which in this case prove effective, the piece unfolds between deliberately skewed riffs of keyboards and distorted guitar interventions, leading to a beautiful refrain, with a majestic and powerful, almost epic stride. Very beautiful is also the final part, where Rutherford emerges from the shadows with long-note solos that complement the keyboards and further elevate the curious evocative force of the piece. Again, it’s nothing special, but it has good yield and fading out closes with at least some dignity a dreadful album.

The worst Genesis record has very little redeemable. Not the sound, aged in no time, not the lyrics, nor the reckless use of instrumentation. Creativity is at a historical low, and if there's something decent, in my opinion, it's to be found in the two longer tracks, Tonight cubed and Domino, though they are also plagued by the period's sinister tendencies, and in the closing instrumental, which, to say something positive, preserve a minimal experimental intent. Everything else is flat calm, extremely low level, and in some cases subterranean; the work of Banks, Collins, and Rutherford is hardly justifiable and defensible, we can say that at least the three also vented in various solo albums and avoided delivering other "masterpieces" labeled Genesis during that indecent decade. I console myself thinking that in a sense they redeemed themselves five years later, publishing a record that stands well above this one, the result of an at least partially rediscovered artistic vein.

Incidentally, the anger increases because if we dig through the outtakes of this album, we come across two songs that, while not excelling, achieve far better results than most of the tracks included here. I’m referring especially to the excellent "Feeding The Fire," a piece with good rhythms and captivating development, and the even more beautiful "Do The Neurotic," which I personally consider a small gem unjustly buried, a pyrotechnic instrumental where Mike makes a great figure with his electric guitar. Similar tracks might have slightly raised the album's level, but Genesis's choice turned out to be different, more trivial and commercial, hence even more condemnable.

That said, since even today, in the year 2000 and beyond, MTV continues to reap the fruits of its poisoned seeds and the banality of music reaches once again worrying levels, I prefer to listen again to the old masterpieces, the epic frescoes of banksiana memory and the other immortal progressive epitaphs so much vilified by history. Musty elders, maybe they'll say, but more alive than ever.