Geez, I am reviewing Genesis... boy, am I reviewing Genesis. Who'd ever had thought I'd be reviewing Genesis... nah, let's get serious. We really need to sort things out here.

Genesis were a fine little British prog rock band, with a unique style of their own (whose main point was not just in ripping of the progressive sound of Yes and King Crimson, contrary to what Wilson & Alroy would have you believe), which suffered from one terrible misfortune: that misfortune was arriving on the scene a bit later than all the other classic prog rock bands. Of course, people usually forget that they made their first album in mid-1969, before the milestones set by King Crimson and Yes - but they were just little kids at that time and they couldn't pull out a decent tune to save their lives, that's what the critics say. Dammit, they're mighty wrong. At their best, Genesis were the epitome of a great progressive rock band, the very best, the cream of the cream of what that genre brought about - serious and substantial enough to claim equality with such mammoths as Yes and King Crimson, but also lightweight and humorous enough not to take themselves way too seriously.

Actually, main songwriter/lyricsman/flute player/stage wiz Peter Gabriel did have a lot of talent throughout most of his Genesis career (not to mention afterwards). The problem was with putting that talent on record. And this is where the trouble lies: one thing the band always lacked in its incessant competition with the other prog giants was virtuoso musicianship. For one thing, the band never had anything like a good guitar sound: the early guitarists do not count, and Steve Hackett, cute little guy with loads of talent though he might be, really had a rare chance to squeeze a note onto the album (which might just as well be the main reason for his quitting in 1977, after which the band didn't even have a guitar player). And as for the keyboards, well, this is where I'm gonna hit the big time. When people say nasty things about Genesis, they usually either hit at Gabriel for blurting out pompous lyrics and wearing idiotic masks onstage, or at Phil Collins for turning the band into a synchronized drum/synth machine for the consumer's taste. There may be a grain of truth in both of these remarks. But the real bug that always kept naggin' at Genesis seems to be keyboard player Tony Banks. He's professional and educated, of course, even though, put next to Keith Emerson or Rick Wakeman, he'd probably look like a six-year old tapping at the piano with his dad's slippers. But that's not the main thing. The main thing is that his instruments are always at the center of the band's sound, and this is more often bad than good. It's not Phil Collins that's the problem with the band, I tell you - it's Anthony Banks. It isn't Phil Collins who's responsible for driving Steve Hackett to quitting the band. It's not Phil Collins who's responsible for turning an otherwise decent album like Wind And Wuthering into an almost unlistenable synthfest.

Peter Gabriel, on the other hand, was a really talented guy. I've grown meself a deeply intimate feeling for the kind of things he'd produced - and I've gone so far as to even review his solo career, a thing I wouldn't really have the guts to do about any average prog rocker. Check it out on his own solo page - even if it has, in fact, little to do with the Genesis legacy. Peter is responsible for the things that really make Genesis unique: his lyrics, theatrical wit and blissful imagery resulted in the creation of a specific 'progressive dreamworld' which was far more complicated and less banal than that of Rush, for instance, but far more understandable and alive than the ugly artificial constructs of Yes. Combining funny bits and patches of contemporary British imagery inherited from the Kinks, Gabriel also ventured deep out into medieval and sci-fi fantasies, and always managed to come up with winners - even if he did sometimes get carried too far away, like on The Lamb. But I suppose that's forgivable, as it's an unalienable flaw of just about every serious 'progger' in existence.

And as for Phil Collins, I bet you know everything about this gentleman already. Let me just tell you that, whatever else you may think of him, Phil's drumming is largely underrated. In his prime, he might have been the equal of Bill Bruford, which is saying a lot (Bill Bruford actually substituted him on the 1976 tour, thus obtaining the honour to perform for three great prog rock bands during his only lifetime). Listen to his mighty, but oh-so-clever bashing on songs like 'I Know What I Like' and you'll know what I'm talking 'bout.

Whew, that was loooong. Let's get on to the lineup: the main founding members were Peter Gabriel (vocals, flute, but he's no Ian Anderson, bass drum, stage antics), Michael Rutherford (bass, acoustic guitar) and the above-mentioned Tony Banks (all kinds of corny keyboards and cornier synths). Rutherford's acoustic, in fact, is very much essential to Genesis sound as well, and it kinda saves you from the often vomit-inducing Banksynth parts. The other two members were Anthony Phillips (lead guitar) and Chris Stewart (drums). This lineup was formed somewhere around 1967 when the boys were still going to school. Stewart quit in 1968, being replaced by John Silver (and no, Peter Gabriel is no Captain Flint). While still at school, they recorded their first flop album for Decca, after which Silver quit, being replaced by John Mayhew (1969). Mayhew and Phillips both quit after the second album, being replaced by Steve Hackett (guitar) and Phil Collins (drums). This was the 'classic Genesis' line-up.

Gabriel quit in 1975 to pursue solo career, after which Collins took over the vocals (not the songwriting, though: contrary to popular belief, he didn't really begin to seriously write for Genesis until 1978). Hackett quit in 1977, reducing the band to a trio - the famous 'pop brand' of Genesis. The trio stayed together until 1996 (well, not that they stayed together all the time), when Collins quit officially and was replaced by junior Ray Wilson. The band then proceeded to record another album called Calling All The Stations (1998) which I was foolish enough to buy - see for one of the biggest album-bashing reviews of all time below. Tony Banks should have called it a day long, long before...

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