The Gods
Genesis

I don't like the word "dated." An adjective often overused, which downsizes the value of historical testimonies, especially when they haven't received the recognition they deserved. In many film and music reviews from a certain period, they are later labeled as "dated." Why? It's logical that if I listen to, for example, a late Sixties album, I'm not expecting to hear drum machines or Van Halen-style guitar solos. It's also logical that, given the abundance of musical offerings from that period, some had enormous success, while others didn't get the expected response, and more often than not, it wasn't the quality of the offering that determined their fate. Only in the latter case, there's a tendency to hastily dismiss the work in question with the aforementioned adjective.

However, "dated" is a regrettably inevitable word when talking about albums like "Genesis" by The Gods, with all due respect to guitarist Joe Konas, who in a recent interview modestly stated that he and his crew were "ahead of the times." Right from the name (the gods, oh please!) and with a garish cover that is certainly not one of the better creations of the Hipgnosis studio, they presented themselves rather pretentiously to the general public in 1968. Yet, it seems that many believed in them, since they recorded at Abbey Road and debuted for EMI. In retrospect, the interest the band generated was mostly due to the future exploits of keyboardist (also lead vocalist here) Ken Hensley and drummer Lee Kerslake, who would become famous with Uriah Heep, and the unfortunate bassist John Glascock, who would be part of Jethro Tull in the second half of the Seventies before passing away prematurely in 1979 due to a congenital heart defect. Before their debut, even Mick Taylor and Greg Lake passed through the group...

But the music? Nothing interesting? To be honest, it's not the instrumental part that raises strong doubts: while not the most brilliant or distinctive, it's nonetheless an honest and overall passable pop declension of Vanilla Fudge, Jimi Hendrix, and Cream intuitions. So nothing that isn't in line with the era, with layers of organ and bursts of mellotron, Hendrix-like guitars (Misleading Colours dares to quote within the first ten seconds both Foxy Lady and Purple Haze), something from the early beat Cream (You're My Life quite recalls I Feel Free), some touches of British blues and R&B, sufficiently turbulent rhythmic section, vaguely disturbing circus-robotic sound effects between songs aiming to preserve a certain psychedelic appeal during a moment of transition between psychedelia and upcoming genres like hard and progressive; all performed without the depth of the aforementioned bands and sweetened with good doses of catchiness. What The Gods fall much short in and the reason why "Genesis" hasn't aged well are the vocal parts: pompous and emphatic vocal blends more than genuinely inspired and effective, not sparing in choirs and falsettos that become irritating over time. Stuff, to be honest, that in England is already past its time and shows a certain affinity more with another reality of the period, as coincidental as it might be, namely our late Italian beat. A song like the melodramatic Candles Getting Shorter, which thankfully didn't gain world fame and for once, thank goodness, isn't hard to imagine being covered by Dik Dik, Equipe 84, and the like, and probably even they would have refused to make their version of the terrible Farthing Man (the "h" could have been spared, given the effect it has!), where, along with the embarrassingly poor vocals, a truly dull score (lyrics and music by the self-proclaimed avant-gardist Konas) contributes to the disaster. With all due respect for the so-called "bitt," which is always remembered with a certain fondness, from an English band that repeatedly seems to be a version of it in Shakespeare's language and just a bit more hard, I'm not exactly sure what to do with it, to be perfectly honest, I expect something more.

Wait. There actually is something more, and it's the best song in their repertoire, the only one rather memorable: I Never Know, mellotron-filled, dramatic, composite (the longest piece in their repertoire, with just under six minutes), with an intriguing atmosphere and good use of dynamics, choirs and falsettos still present but with a touch of restraint and taste; not bad, nice, listening to it almost makes you want to reassess them... But then, you just need to hear Looking Glass, which with its hypnotic stride and gothic aftertaste could have been above average too, but instead gets ruined by a falsetto whining worthy of Cugini Di Campagna, and the desire to reconsider vanishes. And so, "Genesis" by (the "The," such a tiresome article in band names!) The Gods falls into the category of albums that can be easily overlooked.