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Rating: Burdensome is the honor of reviewing this album.
Describing it in every aspect would mean writing an excessively long review; on the other hand, it would be impossible to express all its greatness in a few lines. So let's not get lost in useless words and start talking about it right away.
'The Lamb' comes out in 1974, and initially, it is received rather coldly by both critics and the general public. Evidently, both had become accustomed to considering Genesis as "the most skilled storytellers of progressive tales", and thus they must have been quite surprised to see Gabriel and his companions, fresh from the success of 'Selling England By The Pound', presenting themselves with a dark concept album rooted in (difficult) reality.
The point is that the group, or rather its singer (the concept's creator), had foreseen the "progressive" decline of the genre of which he and his band were the champions, a couple of years in advance.
Today, some speak of The Lamb as a Prog classic: for me, this definition is incorrect. Classics of Prog are Foxtrot, In The Court Of The Crimson King, Close To The Edge, Thick As A Brick? Just to name the most well-known.
The Lamb is something more.
It is too varied, containing too many different elements to be classified in a genre that is undoubtedly open but still has boundaries that delimit it.
Those who disagree with me should try to focus on the sharp and electronic sounds of the "title track" (which is progressive only in Banks' superb piano intro), of "In The Cage", "Riding The Scree"; the hard impact of tracks like "Back In N.Y.C." or "Lilywhite Lilith"; the experimental irony of "The Grand Parade Of Lifeless Packaging" and "Counting Out Time", which are still catchy (the latter was even released as the first single). Singles? One might even think there's a bit of pop in here! And this isn't entirely wrong: of course, these aren't little songs for the Hit Parade like "Invisible Touch," but rather apparently simple music which actually has a studied and very complicated structure?
An example is "Carpet Crawlers", about which one could write volumes, but in the end, it would still always remain what it is: simply beautiful.
So what remains of prog in 'The Lamb'?
Calm down, calm down, it is a double album, containing as many as 23 songs in which the 5 musicians have the chance to showcase all their remarkable technical-compositional skills. Banks' solos are few but good, all on synthesizer. But the true greatness of the instrumentalists emerges from the structure of the songs: Hackett forgoes long solo parts to "limit" himself (so to speak) to refining, and he does it very well. The use of the Mellotron is limited, and it is the piano, rather than the organ, that accompanies most of the tracks, especially in the second disc. Rutherford is forced to almost completely put aside his much-loved 12-strings, which appears only at the beginning of "Fly On A Windshield", in "In The Rapids", and in "It", more for a rhythmic than a harmonic role. However, his contribution to the bass, often distorted to give the tracks a darker atmosphere, is fundamental. Phil Collins inserts himself forcefully among the best drummers of his time: continuous time changes, often in odd meters, unequivocally demonstrate his great abilities, which are also noticeable in the always perfect harmonies.
Am I perhaps forgetting someone? Ah, yes, Peter Gabriel.
That genius Peter Gabriel? The main instrument in 'The Lamb' is his voice, which finally reaches its peak of technique and, above all, of expressiveness. The lyrics, all strictly rhymed, are born from his twisted mind, and it is undoubtedly for this reason that the vocalist interprets them with such emotion; now he unleashes all his anger, now he has fun interpreting different characters by changing his voice; now he pushes as high as he can to represent scenes of great drama, now he finally reassures us with his warm and deep voice? in short, he is the protagonist of these two discs. He is, after all, the Rael whose varied and almost absurd adventures are narrated. And even though they are not as blatant and evident as in Waters' "The Wall" (which I consider a crumb compared to The Lamb), the references to events and people close to the concept's author are present nonetheless.
Hidden behind a macabre story of blood-stained lambs appearing on the streets of New York, living walls that kill you by crushing you in obscure cages, young thugs who end up in bed with porcupines, caves with 32 doors, mysterious creatures with a woman's face and a snake's body that, after satisfying you sexually, force you to transform into "Slippermen", leaving you no alternative but to have yourself castrated to escape a horrible fate? In short, EVERYTHING.
It was obvious that an album like this had to be presented live in a more than theatrical way: and if until that moment Gabriel's figure on stage (who performed, sometimes dressing up, the subjects of the songs) dominated, on The Lamb tour all the eyes of the spectators were on him. The rest of the band, forced to stay in the background playing impossible parts, noticed this. And the frontman noticed that they noticed. And thus, very briefly put, came the decline of Genesis. Mind you: not genesis, but Genesis.
Tracklist Lyrics 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.
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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 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.
By EverardBereguad
"The result was a carpet of 'pure anxiety' on which all the songs were built."
"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."
