•
Rating:
Many works in the '70s were created with the intent to describe the fears and anxieties of the people of that time in the face of death, madness, and things like that. The Pink Floyd, with all the brightness they had in their souls, didn't miss the chance to do analytical work in this area. They focused on some of the main human fears/obsessions and dedicated a piece of their album 'Dark Side...' to each one. Gabriel himself, later and in his own way, did equally analytical work in III with the various forms of madness and the fear connected to them. There are those who maintain, and they find me on their side, that the Genesis wanted to represent the restlessness of their generation in the face of these fears. They did so with this album, but not through analytical work, rather in the way, let's put it this way, in which impressionists expressed their message through colors (I borrow the comparison from ondarock because it well expresses what I want to say). This hypothesis is the starting point of my very personal discussion about the album.
Having agreed upon the project, the five announcers of false apocalypses must have believed that it was necessary at all costs to take the ground from under the listener's feet. For the cause, the factotum keyboardist provided his nimble fingers and his combat arsenal, and the result was a carpet of "pure anxiety" (and here I steal again, damn me, this time from a very old review, I couldn't come up with a better definition) base on which all the songs were built.
The singer understood that the first thing he needed to do was to bring the other four face to face with reality: only he had a mind adequately sick enough to conceive a story and lyrics worthy of the intent they had in mind, and therefore he had to do it alone. He convinced them and willingly got to work, still alive with the memory of a movie titled 'El Topo', a product of a mind as disturbed as his own. Thus, he conceived the story of a journey (that of the well-known Puerto Rican writer) with an evolution teetering between a storyline and a dream. However, it is not a fairy-tale or romantic dream, but one that is absurd and makes little sense.
The fairy tale tool was once again useful to him, but in a different way than in the past. No more visionary standalone frames, no more battles between good and evil, no more metaphors and word games intending to criticize poor England, he had once threatened to sell it and deemed it sufficient.
In my opinion, it is a mistake to look for what Genesis had to say with this album in the moral of the story or the meaning of the lyrics. I initially suggested thinking of the Lamb as a painting where the representation of the subject occurs through the play of colors. Here the colors used are the suggestions, and the story serves to create more in addition to those created by the music, not to communicate a message. The other hypothesis I start from is that the subject they wanted to represent is the state of mind of their generation, and then the disjointedness of the journey told probably aims to transmit to the listener the restlessness in the face of the unknown and the collapse of certainties, a part of that state of mind.
To the chorus of voices that subsequently defined Gabriel's work as nebulous, the voice of Banks was also added over time. The music, however, shows that during the making of the album he had clear ideas very much in line with his singer. But I am grateful to him for too many things, above all the solo in 'In the Cage,' to give importance to these behaviors of his like a grumpy mother-in-law.
From a strictly musical point of view, I have practically nothing to add to the analyses conducted in other reviews. I will just make an observation about the use of the bass. For once, it proves to be a strongly characterizing element of the sound. There are finally some great bass lines on this album (the one of the title track is my favorite). I must have read somewhere that Rutherford also put quite a few chords into it. The sound is very aggressive, and the use of the Rickenbacker and the pick would explain this fact. What I know for sure is that Pluto did indeed use this bass on tour, along with another double neck, a Micro-Frets, I have no idea what sound it has.
Rutherford is a strange bassist: a great stomper of moog taurus pedals up to the Lamb, with fingers almost always glued to twelve strings, and for the rest of his career a triumph of double necks. The most conventional bass I've seen him hold is the Rick, for the rest models not far from the artisanal: the aforementioned Micro-Frets, the aesthetically valuable Shergold (sonically I have no idea), the plasticky Steinberger, up to that mutant instrument of the 2007 tour fusion of a Gibson guitar and a Yamaha bass. Never a Jazz or a Precision bass as far as I know.
Just in the period when they created what I believe to be their most beautiful work, the Genesis committed a serious sin in the world of music. They gave little space to their very particular guitarist. Few are the gems of his making within the album: Cuckoo Cocoon, the shaved heart, the arrival of the Supernatural Anesthetist, and the Nippon introduction, a bit of a nag to be honest, of Colony of Slippermen. A meager haul, indeed, even though the Anesthetist is among Genesis' most beautiful pieces for me.
The album came out in a period marked by quite a few contrasts within the band. The facts are well-known to those who know Genesis, who may know more than the band members themselves remember. For those who know nothing about it and are interested in shedding light on it, you can find avalanches of information virtually everywhere, on this site and elsewhere, except here.
Beautiful cover by Hipgnosis studio.
And after this senseless ramble, I extend a dear salutation to those who have made it this far without giving up on me even once.
Tracklist Lyrics Samples and Videos
01 The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway (04:45)
The lamb lies down on Broadway
And the lamb lies down on Broadway.
Early morning Manhattan,
Ocean winds blow on the land.
The Movie-Palace is now undone,
The all-night watchmen have had their fun.
Sleeping cheaply on the midnight show,
It's the same old ending-time to go.
Get out!
It seems they cannot leave their dream.
There's something moving in the sidewalk steam,
And the lamb lies down on Broadway.
Nightime's flyers feel their pains.
Drugstore takes down the chains.
Metal motion comes in bursts,
But the gas station can quench that thirst.
Suspension cracked on unmade road
The trucker's eyes read 'Overload'
And out on the subway,
Rael Imperial Aerosol Kid
Exits into daylight, spraygun hid,
And the lamb lies down on Broadway.
The lamb seems right out of place,
Yet the Broadway street scene finds a focus in its face.
Somehow it's lying there,
Brings a stillness to the air.
Though man-made light, at night is very bright,
There's no whitewash victim,
As the neons dim, to the coat of white.
Rael Imperial Aerosol Kid,
Wipes his gun-he's forgotten what he did,
And the lamb lies down on Broadway.
Suzanne tired her work all done,
Thinks money-honey-be on-neon.
Cabman's velvet glove sounds the horn
And the sawdust king spits out his scorn.
Wonder women draw your blind!
Don't look at me! I'm not your kind.
I'm Rael!
Something inside me has just begun,
Lord knows what I have done,
And the lamb lies down on Broadway.
On Broadway-
They say the lights are always bright on Broadway.
They say there's always magic in the air.
02 Fly on a Windshield (02:45)
There's something solid forming in the air,
and the wall of death is lowered in Times Square.
No one seems to care,
they carry on as if nothing's there.
The wind is blowing harder now,
blowing dust into my eyes.
The dust settles on my skin,
making a crust I cannot move in.
And I'm hovering like a fly,
waiting for the windshield on the freeway.
04 Cuckoo Cocoon (02:11)
Rael regains consciousness in some musky half-light. He is warmly wrapped in some sort of cocoon. The only sound he can hear is dripping water which appears to be the source of a pale flickering light. He guesses he must be in some sort of cave - or kooky tomb, or catacomb, or eggshell waiting to drop from the bone of the womb.
Wrapped up in some powdered wool - I guess I'm losing touch.
Don't tell me this is dying, 'cos I ain't changed that much.
The only sound is water drops, I wonder where the hell I am,
Some kind of jam?
Cuckoo Cocoon have I come to, too soon for you?
There's nothing I can recognise; this is nowhere that I've known.
With no sign of life at all, I guess that I'm alone,
And I feel so secure that I know this can't be real
but I feel good.
Cuckoo cocoon have I come to, too soon for you?
I wonder if I'm a prisoner locked in some Brooklyn jail
- or some sort of Jonah shut up inside the whale.
No - I'm still Rael and I'm stuck in some kind of cave.
what could've saved me?
Cuckoo cocoon have I come to, too soon for you?
Resigning himself to the unknown he drifts off into sleep.
05 In the Cage (08:14)
I got sunshine in my stomach
Like I just rocked my baby to sleep.
I got sunshine in my stomach
But I can't keep me from creeping sleep,
Sleep, deep in the deep.
Rockface moves to press my skin
White liquids turn sour within
Turn fast - turn sour
Turn sweat - turn sour.
Must tell myself that I'm not here.
I'm drowning in a liquid fear.
Bottled in a strong compression,
My distortion shows obsession
In the cave.
Get me out of this cave !
If I keep self-control,
I'll be safe in my soul.
And the childhood belief
Brings a moment's relief,
But my cynic soon returns
And the lifeboat burns.
My spirit just never learns.
Stalactites, stalagmites
Shut me in, lock me tight.
Lips are dry, throat is dry.
Feel like burning, stomach churning,
I'm dressed up in a white costume
Padding out left-over room.
Body stretching, feel the wretching
In the cage
Get me out of the cage!
In the glare of a light
I see a strange kind of sight;
O cages joined to from a star
Each person can't go very far;
All tied to their things
They are netted by their strings,
Free to flutter in memories of their wasted wings.
Outside the cage I see my brother John,
He turn his head so slowly round.
I cry out "Help!" before he can be gone,
And he looks at me without a sound.
And I shout out "John please help me !"
But he does not even want to try to speak.
I'm helpless in my violent rage
And a silent tear of blood dribbles down his cheek.
My little runaway.
In a trap, feel a starp
Holding still, Pinned for kill.
Chances narrow that I'll make it,
In the cushioned straitjacket.
Just like 22nd St,
And they got me by my neck and feet.
Pressure's building, can't take more.
My headache's charged. Earaches roar.
In this pain
Get me out of this pain.
If I could change to liquid,
I could fill the cracks up in the rock,
But I know that I am solid
And I am my own bad luck.
Outside John disappears and my cage dissolves,
And without any reason my body revolvess.
Keep on turning
Keep on turning
Keep on turning
Keep on turning
Keep on turning
Turning around
Just spinning around.
Down, down, down..........
06 The Grand Parade of Lifeless Packaging (02:45)
When all this revolution is over, he sits down on a highly polished floor while his dizziness fades away. It is an empty modern hallway and the dreamdoll saleslady sits at the reception desk. Without prompting she goes into her rap: "This is the Grand Parade of Lifeless Packaging, those you are about to see are all in for servicing, except for a small quantity of our new product, in the second gallery. It is all the stock required to cover the existing arrangements of the enterprise. Different batches are distributed to area operators, and there are plenty of opportunities for the large investor. They stretch from the costly care-conditioned to the most reasonable mal-nutritioned. We find here that everyone's looks become them. Except for the low market mal-nutritioned, each is provided with a guarantee for a successful birth and trouble free infancy. There is however only a small amount of variable choice potential - not too far from the mean differential. You see, the roof has predetermined the limits of ac
tion of any group of packages, but individuals may move off the path if their diversions are counter-balanced by others."
"It's the last great adventure left to mankind"
- Screams a drooping lady
offering her dreamdolls at less than extortionate prices,
and as the notes and coins are taken out
I'm taken in, to the factory floor.
for the Grand Parade of Lifeless Packaging
- All ready to use
the Grand Parade of Lifeless Packaging
- I just need a fuse.
Got people stocked in every shade,
Must be doing well with trade.
Stamped, addressed, in odd fatality.
That evens out their personality.
With profit potential marked by a sign,
I can recognise some of the production line,
No bite at all in labour bondage,
Just wrinkled wrappers or human bandage.
Grand Parade of Lifeless Packaging
- All ready to use
it's the Grand Parade of Lifeless Packaging
- I just need a fuse.
As he wanders along the line of packages, Rael notices a familiarity in some of their faces. He finally comes upon some of the members of his old gang and worries about his own safety. Running out through the factory floor, he catches sight of his brother John with a number 9 stamped on his forehead.
The hall runs like clockwork
Their hands mark out the time;
Empty in their fullness
Like a frozen pantomime.
Everyone's a sales representative
Wearing slogans in their shrine.
Dishing out failsafe superlative,
Brother John is No. 9.
it's the Grand Parade of Lifeless Packaging
- All ready to use
it's the Grand Parade of Lifeless Packaging
- I just need a fuse.
The decor on the ceiling
has planned out their future day
I see no sign of free will,
so I guess I have to pay,
pay my way,
for the Grand Parade...
it's the Grand Parade of Lifeless Packaging
- All ready to use
it's the Grand Parade of Lifeless Packaging
- I just need a fuse.
07 Back in N.Y.C. (05:34)
No-one seems to take up the chase, and with the familiar faces fresh in his mind he moves into a reconstruction of his old life, above ground - Too much time was one thing he didn't need, so he used to cut through it with a little speed. He was better off dead, than slow in the head. His momma and poppa had taken a ride on his back, so he left very quickly to join The Pack.
I see faces and traces of home back in New York City -
So you think I'm a tough kid? Is that what you heard?
Well I like to see some action and it gets into my blood.
The call me the trail blazer - Rael - electric razor
I'm the pitcher in the chain gang, we don't believe in pain
'cos we're only as strong, yes we're only as strong,
as the weakest link in the chain.
Only after a spell in Pontiac reformatory was he given any respect in the gang.
Let me out of Pontiac when I was just seventeen,
I had to get it out of me, if you know what I mean, what I mean.
You say I must be crazy, 'cos I don't care who I hit, who I hit.
But I know it's me that's hitting out and I'm, I'm not full of shit.
I don't care who I hurt, I don't care who I do wrong.
This is your mess I'm stuck in, I really don't belong.
When I take out my bottle, filled up high with gasoline,
You can tell by the night fires where Rael has been, has been.
Now, walking back home after a raid, he was cuddling a sleeping porcupine.
That night he pictured the removal of his hairy heart and to the accompaniment of very romantic music he watched it being shaved smooth by an anonymous stainless steel razor.
As I cuddled the porcupine
He said I had none to blame, but me.
Held my heart, deep in hair,
Time to shave, shave it off, it off.
No time for romantic escape,
When your fluffy heart is ready for rape. No!
Off we go...
Your sitting in your comfort you don't believe I'm real,
You cannot buy protection from the way that I feel.
Your progressive hypocrites hand out their trash,
But it was mine in the first place, so I'll burn it to ash.
And I've tasted all the strongest meats,
And laid them down in coloured sheets (laid them down in coloured
sheets).
Who needs illusion of love and affection
When you're out walking the streets with your mainline connection?
connection.
As I cuddled the porcupine
He said I had none to blame, but me.
Held my heart, deep in hair.
Time to shave, shave it off, it off.
No time for romantic escape,
When your fluffy heart is ready for rape. No!
09 Counting Out Time (03:41)
The palpitating cherry-red organ was returned to its rightful place and began to beat faster as it led our hero, counting out time, through his first romantic encounter.
I'm counting out time,
Got the whole thing down by numbers.
All those numbers!
Give me guidance!
O Lord I need that now.
The day of judgement's come,
And you can bet that I've been resting,
for this testing,
Digesting every word the experts say.
Erogenous zones I love you.
Without you, what would a poor boy do?
Found a girl I wanted to date,
Thought I'd better get it straight.
Went to buy a book before it's too late.
Don't leave nothing to fate.
I studied every line, every page in the book,
Now, I've got the real thing here, I'm gonna take a look, take a look.
This is Rael!
I'm counting out time, hoping it goes like I planned it,
'cos I understand it. Look! I've found the hotspots, Figs 1-9.
- still counting out time, got my finger on the button,
"Don't say nuttin - just lie there still
And I'll get you turned on just fine."
Erogenous zones I love you.
Without you, what would a poor boy do?
Touch and go with 1-6.
Bit of trouble in zone No. 7.
Gotta remember all of my tricks.
There's heaven ahead in No. 11!
Getting crucial responses, dilation of the pupils.
"Honey get hip! It's time to unzip, to unzip, zip, zip-a-zip-a-zip.
Whipee!"
(Take it away Mr. Guitar)
- Move over Casanova -
I'm counting out time, reaction none to happy,
Please don't slap me,
I'm a red blooded male and the book said I could not fail.
I'm counting out time, I got unexpected distress from my mistress,
I'll get my money back from the bookstore right away.
Erongenous zones I question you -
Without you, what would a poor boy do?
Without you, what would a poor boy do?
Without you, mankind handkinds thru' the blues.
10 Carpet Crawlers (05:14)
There is lambswool under my naked feet.
The wool is soft and warm,
-gives off some kind of heat.
A salamander scurries into flame to be destroyed.
Imaginary creatures are trapped in birth on celluloid.
The fleas cling to the golden fleece,
Hoping they'll find peace.
Each thought and gesture are caught in celluloid.
There's no hiding in my memory.
There's no room to void.
The crawlers cover the floor in the red ochre corridor.
For my second sight of people, they've more lifeblood than before.
They're moving. They're moving in time to a heavy wooden door,
Where the needle's eye is winking, closing in on the poor.
The carpet crawlers heed their callers:
"You've got to get in to get out
You've got to get in to get out."
There's only one direction in the faces that I see;
It's upward to the ceiling, where the chambers said to be.
Like the forest fight for sunlight, that takes root in every tree.
They are pulled up by the magnet, believing that they're free.
The carpet crawlers heed their callers:
"You've got to get in to get out
You've got to get in to get out."
Mild mannered supermen are held in kryptonite,
And the wise and foolish virgins giggle with their bodies glowing bright.
Through a door a harvest feast is lit by candlight;
It's the bottom of a staircase that spirals out of sight.
The carpet crawlers heed their callers:
"You've got to get in to get out
You've got to get in to get out."
The porcelain mannikin with shattered skin fears attack.
The eager pack lift up their pitchers- the carry all they lack.
The liquid has congealed, which has seeped out through the crack,
And the tickler takes his stickleback.
The carpet crawlers heed their callers:
"You've got to get in to get out
You've got to get in to get out."
11 The Chamber of 32 Doors (05:40)
At the top of the stairs he finds a chamber. It is almost a hemisphere with a great many doors all the way round its circumference. There is a large crowd, huddled in various groups. From the shouting, Rael learns that there are 32 doors, but only one that leads out. Their voices get louder and louder until Rael screams "Shut up!" There is a momentary silence and then Rael finds himself the focus as they direct their advice and commands to their new found recruit. Bred on trash, fed on ash the jigsaw master has got to move faster. Rael sees a quiet corner and rushes to it.
At the top of the stairs, there's hundreds of people,
running around to all the doors.
They try to find, find themselves an audience;
their deductions need applause.
The rich man stands in front of me,
The poor man behind my back.
They believe they can control the game,
but the juggler holds another pack.
I need someone to believe in, someone to trust.
I need someone to believe in, someone to trust.
I'd rather trust a countryman than a townman,
You can judge by his eyes, take a look if you can,
He'll smile through his guard,
Survival trains hard.
I'd rather trust a man who works with his hands,
He looks at you once, you know he understands,
Don't need any shield,
When you're out in the field.
But down here,
I'm so alone with my fear,
With everything that I hear.
And every single door, that I've walked through
Brings me back here again,
I've got to find my own way.
The priest and the magician,
Singing all the chants that they have ever heard;
and they're all calling out my name,
Even academics, searching printed word.
My father to the left of me,
My mother to the right,
Like everyone else they're pointing
But nowhere feels quite right.
And I need someone to believe in, someone to trust.
I need someone to believe in, someone to trust.
I'd rather trust a man who doesn't shout what he's found,
There's no need to sell if you're homeward bound.
If I choose a side,
He won't take me for a ride.
Back inside
This chamber of so many doors;
I've nowhere, nowhere to hide.
I'd give you all of my dreams, if you'd help me,
Find a door
That doesn't lead me back again
- take me away.
Loading comments slowly
Other reviews
By Mr_Iko
I love to call it 'Music-All': a watershed between a rock opera and a musical to be performed on a Broadway stage.
Should you not like this album, I recommend consulting a good doctor for an otoscopy.
By Mariaelena
"This double album is astonishingly difficult, progressively dilatable and becomes unique because it is full of merits, flaws and double meanings both for the lyrics and the music."
"Rael and John dissolve because maturity will have been reached due to a fundamental choice transforming them into a single complete man... You are free to interpret, and this is what Peter Gabriel wanted to convey to us."
By Old King Cole
"The Lamb is something more... too varied, containing too many different elements to be classified in a genre that is undoubtedly open but still has boundaries that delimit it."
"The main instrument in 'The Lamb' is [Peter Gabriel's] voice, which finally reaches its peak of technique and, above all, of expressiveness."
By STIPE
"Gabriel was Genesis and Genesis was Gabriel."
"A courageous work, completely different from their discography and also the last one by Gabriel with his old companions."
By paolofreddie
The album ranks among the most interesting in progressive and rock music in general.
The Lamb is one of the most complex and difficult to analyze albums in the history of prog and that is what enhances its intriguing nature.
