Peter Gabriel
Scratch My Back

In 2002, Peter Gabriel sought to refute his reputation as the tortoise of rock by claiming that the follow-up to Up, released that year, would see the light of day shortly afterwards.

In fact, after 8 years and 15 more kilos, good ol' Peter is still busy with various tapes and loops. To stretch the time and not appear as the most deceitful artist of the decade, he releases "Scratch My Back", an album of covers created with the help of the piano and an entire orchestra. Produced by Bob Ezrin, who returned to King Gabriel's court after the star wars of the first, self-titled album in 1977. 

To show that it is a serious project and not a means to make easy money, the man with "that voice" doesn’t resort to a simple cut and paste but re-sings all the songs in his own way (with some exceptions we will see) pushing the slow-motion accelerator, both a virtue and a flaw of the project. 

In some cases, the trick works, as in the pianistic "Flume" (Bon Iver) where Uncle Peter’s spectacular voice manages to sublimate the anguish of the original (which in comparison now seems like an ode to joy) or in "Mirror Ball" by Elbow, which seemed like a piece by Peter himself (so is it a cover of himself that he offers us?)

Sometimes the play becomes "heavy and gloomy" ("Street Spirit" is arranged with such bareness that it risks catching a cold. The singing, almost devoid of melody, uncertain and monotone, does the rest), but "Book Of Love", with its homely emotion, and "Listening Wind", steeped in strings and insights, kick the gloominess away while remaining polite songs. "Heroes" doesn’t have the energy of the original but turns into a prayer murmured in secret, and "The Power of The Heart" by an unusual Lou Reed might please my mother, who always skipped "Shock The Monkey" but when confronted with "Solsbury Hill" and "Wallflowers", improvises words and turns up the volume.

"Philadelphia" by Neil Young adds little to the crazy Canadian's version, but in this case, altering that masterpiece of composure would have been sacrilege, while "My Body Is a Cage" is so full of tension that it’s recommended to listen to it with a glass of water to drink at the end. The collection is completed with songs by Randy Newman ("I Think It's Gonna Rain Today"), Paul Simon (if you want an example of eclecticism, listen to this version of "Boy In The Bubble"), and the nearly operatic "Apres Moi" by Regina Spektor. 

Not an easy album, no radio hooks or anthems to sing with raised fists. Rather, it is an album that is bare, intimate, and reflective, to listen to on a good couch (with the risk of falling asleep, though. Too much comfort can backfire).

For the follow-up to "Up", check back in five years.