Trollheart

With typical lack of respect for chronology (I did this originally in order but this time I'm flying by the seat, as it were) we're now jumping from almost the beginning of their career to the last album released with Phil Collins, and still really kind of the one I consider the end of the entire story for Genesis.

After three relatively substandard albums that owed more to the world of pop than that of rock, particularly progressive rock, the three amigos came back with an album that almost - almost - took us back ten years, while yet retaining a modern sensibility about it. It was, very nearly, their version of So.

We Can't Dance (1991)

You would almost think there was a joke hidden in there somewhere, when a band like Genesis, famed for long, complicated, adventurous progressive rock epics suddenly found their songs being played at discos and clubs, and attracting no doubt a younger and more female audience on the strength of their newer material. Whether or which, I don't know, but this album was their fifth consecutive number one in the UK, a top four placing in the USA, and though critics widely panned it, I consider it really the last truly great Genesis album. If there's a successor to A Trick of the Tail and Duke, then I believe this is it.

Again, they're looking more at real-world situations, with the opener, “No Son of Mine”, concerning the relationship between a man and his father, after the former leaves the family home, and how he finds it hard, even impossible to be accepted back. With a ticking drumbeat and a sort of growling synth, the song is a slow to mid-paced one, with a very honest vocal from Collins, even though it seems unlikely this is drawn from any of the band's actual experiences. Banks sets up the synth soundscape, building layer on layer until it all comes to a great crescendo for the chorus, the drums thumping hard and steady, like a judgement on the unhappy man of the title. It's a dark, bitter song, and the mood changes drastically then for “Jesus He Knows Me”, where the guys poke fun at TV evangelists, the tune uptempo and boppy, riding on a bubbling synth with lines like ”Just do as I say/ Don't do as I do” and ”You don't need to believe in the hereafter/ Just believe in me!” Of course, this is nothing new: Fish did the same thing on “Big Wedge” and The Hooters on “Satellite”, and no doubt there are many many others; the insincerity of these people is common fodder for rock and pop music, but Genesis do add their own little humorous slant here which makes the song something you can't help but like.

Again though, I hear the ghost of “Illegal Alien”, especially in the bridge, but I suppose you have to admire their courage, risking alienating a large section of their fanbase possibly. “Driving the Last Spike” looks at the courage of the men who built Britain's railways, and the conditions under which they worked. It's one of the two epics on the album, which oddly enough are almost exactly the same length, with only a difference of eight seconds between them. Running for just over ten minutes, this one opens with a reflective, lonely guitar from Rutherford, as Collins depicts the story of a man who is ”Leaving my family behind me/ Not knowing what lay ahead” and a sorrowful synth line underpins this necessary step into the unknown. Unlike the previous song, there's a great sense of sincerity and honesty running through this, and an attempt to honour these men, many possibly buried in unmarked graves, who worked and died to make Britain the mighty empire it became. The midsection features a powerful guitar solo and a warbling keyboard passage from Banks which brings it essentially into the second part of the song, as guitar drives it along, the tempo increasing slightly as the unnamed worker sighs ”There has to be a better life!”

There's definitely pride in being British, and respect paid to the men when Collins sings ”They'll never see the likes of us again!” That takes us to the title track, as such. It's actually called “I Can't Dance”, and is a kind of funky shuffle, very much driven on Rutherford's guitar, with some interesting percussion effects. It's a fun track but there's really nothing in it. Still won an award, though I think that was more for the video. The first of the fillers comes with “Never a Time”, which is basically every love song you've ever heard, and robs from the ending of “It's Gonna Get Better” from the Genesis album. This could be on a Collins solo album too and you wouldn't notice much difference.

We get back on track though with the excellent “Dreaming While You Sleep”, with its Gabrielesque drums, honking synth and creeping guitar. The story of a man tortured by having been involved in a hit-and-run, he finds he can't sleep and wonders how his victim is. There's a real sense of tension and drama building, mostly in the rather simplistic arrangement of the song. It bursts out on heavy pounding drumming and hard guitar as he tries to rationalise what he has done, and fails - ”All my life you'll lie silently there/ All my life, in a world so unfair/ And only I'll know why!” - hoping against hope that the woman in a coma will wake up. It's quite a selfish lyric really: the guy isn't so much bothered about the woman he ran down, so much as he is eaten alive by guilt, and if she were to wake up and survive then that guilt would, for him, be assuaged. Would he admit it was him? Sounds unlikely, as he talks about taking his secret to the grave.

“Tell Me Why” is another pointless little nod to the evils of the world without actually advancing any solution, almost as poor as his “Heat On the Street” from ... But Seriously. It's an okay pop song, with some nice parts, but ultimately it's empty. Phil rants about how heartless politicians are, but you know, some of that fortune, Phil, could be put to good use. This is why I have a problem with rich rock or pop stars crying their eyes out about poverty. If I had your money, I'd fucking do something to help! But no: we'll just write a song about it and let others sort it out. Sigh. This line really hits it on the head: ”You say there's nothing you can do/ One rule for them, one for you.” Indeed. I don't like “Living Forever” either. It has elements of 1983 Genesis about it, mixed in with some Duke-era stuff, and it's just a little confused. Every time I hear this song I forget what it's like, it just has that little effect on me. The backing vocals are drony and boring and there's a sort of nursery rhyme thrown in too for no good reason.

Luckily, the album rallies again at the end, with four fine tracks to close it out. The first, which I think is the first real ballad, is truly beautiful. “Hold On My Heart” has a tumbling drum intro and beautiful lush keys backing Phil's voice, which for once doesn't sound annoying to me. It's a simple song, but then so are the best ballads really. It's also one of caution, as Collins warns his heart to try to take things slowly --- ”Don't rush in this time/ Don't show her how you feel”. There's some lovely understated guitar work from Rutherford, which works really well, and the whole song is really well constructed. I could see this on Duke or ...And Then There Were Three..., though of course it does betray links with Collins's solo work. The next one has received a lot of bad press and criticism, and “Way of the World”, does, in fairness, take a very shrugged shoulders attitude to the injustices we live with every day, spreading the hands and saying “Sure what can you do?” But unlike “Tell Me Why”, which kind of treads the same lyrical territory, this is saved by its melody and beat, which you really can't help but tap your fingers to. It's like a kind of swing blues or something, rocking along in a midtempo vein. Lyrically it's pretty empty, but it gets a pass due to the melody, and I'm sure it went down well onstage. There's a kind of semi-reggae feel to it also, and since I don't care for reggae, the fact that I still really like this song says a lot. There's a great hook in the chorus, and I remember when I first played the album I began brightening up after the last few tracks, thinking maybe this is going to end well. I wasn't wrong.

I always thought “Since I Lost You” was a sad love song, but in fact it appears it's written by Phil Collins for Eric Clapton, in sympathy at the death of his young son which the singer/songwriter commemorated himself in his “Tears in Heaven”. It's a heartbreakingly open song, and Collins sings it with every ounce of emotion he can squeeze into his voice. It rides on a slow blues beat, Tony Banks's strong but supportive piano keeping the line as Collins sings ”It seems in a moment/ Your whole life can shatter” and asks the unanswerable question ”Oh how can life/ Ever be the same?” One of the sincerest songs of sympathy I've ever heard. I loved it before I knew the circumstances behind its lyric, and I love it even more now.

Whether Collins realised his time with Genesis was coming to an end, that he would soon leave the band and concentrate on his solo career and other adventures, I don't know, but the closing “Fading Lights” paints a sad but bittersweet picture of a man saying goodbye to his friends after so many good times. Every member of the band outdoes themselves here, and it's the other epic track, just over ten minutes again. When Collins sings ”Like a story that we wish was never ending/ We know sometime/ We must reach the final page/ Still we carry on just pretending/ That there'll always be/ One more day to go” it's touching, and it's perfectly executed. From the tiny taps of the drum machine which recall Phil's big success songs, to the impassioned keyboard solo from Tony Banks in the midsection that runs for so long it almost turns the song into an instrumental at the end, this is the perfect swansong for Genesis.

The vocal is quiet yet strong, wistful but determined, the voice of a man who really doesn't want to leave but knows he has reached that crossroad where he must make one of the hardest decisions of his life. When he sings ”We know that these are the days of our lives/ We will remember.” And if there are to be final memories of Genesis for Phil Collins, then this is probably the best they could fashion. It's well one of my favourites on the album, and pushes into the background the less than stellar tracks that blight the album. It's almost the Genesis of old meeting the Genesis of now in not so much an uneasy truce as a hearty handshake and a wry smile. The solo begins in the fourth minute and continues, more or less uninterrupted, through to the eighth, possibly Tony Banks's own personal farewell to his longtime friend and bandmate, while Mike Rutherford keeps up with him all the way, and Phil bashes out the drums, quite possibly with the hint of a tear in his eye.

And in the end, it fades away like its title, the final word left to the departing singer, with the last words of Phil Collins ever on a studio Genesis album, ”Remember...”

TRACK LISTING

No Son of Mine
Jesus He Knows Me
Driving the Last Spike
I Can't Dance
Never a Time
Dreaming While You Sleep
Tell Me Why
Living Forever
Hold On My Heart
Way of the World
Since I Lost You
Fading Lights

While it's certainly not the perfect Genesis album, I believe We Can't Dance is miles ahead of anything they had done since 1980, and would have been a fitting end for the band. Yes, there are duff tracks on it, but luckily the good ones are more than good enough to compensate for the few fillers. As a farewell to the fans, and to his bandmates, I don't think Phil Collins could have done better, and personally (though who am I to say?) I think they should have left it at that. However, they wanted to continue and so, for the second time in their forty-plus year career, Genesis went in search of a new vocalist. They found one, but he only lasted for the one album before Mike and Tony decided the magic wasn't really there anymore, and called it a day.

Note: The following was written as the ending of the original discography project, and is a little out of place here I know, but I really didn't want to cut it.

Since then, Collins has partially returned to Genesis, playing live with them on tours, but as yet rumours of a new album featuring the trio have not come to pass. Maybe they never will, and maybe it's better that way. As they say, and as Peter Gabriel seems to believe, you can't go back, and to try to recapture what you had ten, twenty, thirty years ago is like chasing a rainbow. So maybe they're better leaving well alone. If so, then this is where the Genesis story ends. It's been a long, at times rocky ride, starting out as a group of unsure teenagers writing music they didn't really want to write, to end up with a fully-blown rock opera which imploded the band and then set them on a course straight for superstardom.

Over the decades they helped give birth to progressive rock, made enemies and friends, explored whole new avenues of their talent, and for some, like me, created the soundtrack of their lives. For that, I will always be grateful to them. But rather than follow the words of “Please Don't Ask” and asking “Maybe we can try, maybe it would work this time”, I think it's best if the Lamb lies down for good this time, and let the three of them retire in peace and contentment to their homes by the sea.

Rating: 7.8/10

__________________
Trollheart: Signature-free since April 2018