| The
Review |
SUNLIGHT OF PAST DAYS
Let's rewind WAY back to the now distant year 1970 and
rediscover an underappreciated gem from the dawn times of
progressive rock, Genesis' second LP "Trespass." Still very
much in the process of finding themselves musically, "Trespass"
captured the band at a unique moment of their evolution. Initial
listening suggests that much of the trail was blazed here
for the artistic direction that they would expand upon in
their succeeding epics like "The Musical Box," "Supper's Ready"
and "Selling England by the Pound," all rightly acclaimed
as milestones. Without disrespecting those monuments of the
prog-rock canon, I say that (and I suspect I'm not alone here),
"Trespass" exceeds them as a singular work of crystalline
delicacy, almost trance-like in places, evoking a mood of
contemplative reflection that the band never quite recaptured.
Although the sound is recognizably Genesis, it has an autumnal
quality lending it special poignancy that truly puts it in
a class all its own.
Readers should be alerted up front that this is NOT the
trio Genesis that became the commercial blockbusters of the
1980's with Phil Collins at the helm. Only keyboardist Banks
and bassist/guitarist Rutherford from that outfit were present
when "Trespass" was recorded. In fact, "Trespass" was the
final band recording of the original group of schoolmates
who came together as a songwriting collective and ultimately
(under the early tutelage of 1960's impresario Jonathan King)
formed Genesis, releasing a 1969 debut LP most frequently
known as "From Genesis to Revelation." (These songs have been
reissued in multiple packages over the years. Perhaps the
best for liner notes & bonus tracks is the "Rock Roots" English
collection LP released in the '70's to capitalize on the band's
later-career successes.)
"From Genesis to Revelation" is perhaps best characterized
as "cute," and I hasten to add that I offer that as a description
with no condescension intended at all. Looking at the early
photos of the band and hearing the VERY young Peter Gabriel
singing you just can't help but marvel at how wet behind the
ears they really were. Even with all the conflicting advice
they surely must have received from Jon King and the "suits"
at Decca (their first record label), they still showed a lot
of promise, even though they were clearly floundering for
direction. "Genesis to Revelation" is a pleasant, but not
particularly memorable pop album of its day. Stylistically
I would say it's perhaps closest in sound to the Moody Blues,
with orchestration dubbed in occasionally to further invite
that comparison.
"Trespass" found them under new management and recording
for the legendary Charisma label, who (along with Virgin Records)
were rapidly establishing themselves as the premier patrons
and ringmasters of the up and coming progressive rock wave
that Genesis turned out to be on the leading edge of. With
empathic management, a good producer (important prog scenester
John Anthony) and the studio experience of their first record
under their belt, Genesis was at last ready to take wing.
And so "Trespass" kicks off with the arresting "Looking
for Someone," beginning abruptly with Peter mournfully rasping
the title verse over Tony Bank's slow organ chords. As the
acoustic guitars unobtrusively enter & build the mix, Peter
enlarges his lyrics of self-discovery through painful life
experience, "keep on a straight line, I don't believe I can…"
Instrumental breaks feature the twin acoustic guitarists jauntily
chording away as Bank's nimble organ skips out a little bagatelle
over the top. This track breaks completely with all the Bee
Gees/Moody Blues retreads offered on their previous record,
and quickly re-establishes the band as a more adventurous
and instrumentally dexterous group than their previous work
hinted.
With only six tracks it's tempting to descend into a
track-by-track critique of "Trespass," but let me focus our
attention instead on what I believe to be the most important.
Let's zero in on what I believe to be the TOWERING centerpiece
of this record, track #4 (first song on side two for those
of us with LP's), "Stagnation."
By the way, those of us who have hung on to our LP's
of this album get the lyric sheet which includes the following
text preceding the lyrics to "Stagnation:" "To Thomas S. Eiselberg,
a very rich man, who was wise enough to spend all his fortunes
in burying himself many miles beneath the ground. As the only
surviving member of the human race, he inherited the whole
world."
Our musical appreciation of "Stagnation" is not significantly
degraded for not having this text in the CD package, but our
overall understanding of the artists' intentions ARE diminished.
I'll spare you my full-length rant about this, but WHY can't
this stuff be included in the CD reissue? To be sure, some
labels understand this and get their reissues right, but it's
especially annoying when it happens to a personal favorite
like "Trespass."
For me, "Stagnation" is the place where Genesis REALLY
emerged as a pioneering force in this (at the time) new thing
we have since come to know as progressive rock. Without slagging
all the creative muscle shown in the preceding tracks, it
all pales somewhat beside the otherworldly grandeur of this
ambitious little mini-opera. "Stagnation" starts humbly enough
with those twin acoustics of Phillips & Rutherford amiably
ambling along to lead us into Peter's narrative, "Here today
the red sky tells his tale, but the only listening eyes are
mine…"
After the first verse the guitars dissolve into ethereal
chords as Banks' organ echoes them and leads us down to a
stately piano/guitar duet resolving to a churning acoustic
guitar/organ "jam" (I'd almost rather not use that word-it
suggests that the band was on auto pilot and without focus
or direction). A sweeping organ arpeggio by Banks halts the
section abruptly, transitioning to Peter's flute floating
us back to the next vocal section, "Wait, there still is time
for washing in the pool…" Here we begin to get some Mellotron
along with those acoustic guitars, segueing to Peter's probably
deliberately sonically distorted monologue, "And will I wait
forever, beside the silent mirror, and fish for bitter minnows,
amongst the weeds and slimy water…" The lush guitars/Mellotron
continue for a full cycle until drummer Mahew re-enters to
kick everything up to the grand finale; the memorable closing
theme with Peter wailing Thomas S. Eiselberg's last request,
"I want a drink, to take all the dust and the dirt from my
throat, to wash out the filth that is deep in my guts." Things
calm momentarily as the percussion recedes, and Peter's flute
again takes up the stagnation theme introduced a moment previously.
The guitars chime in alongside, and quickly Mahew's drums
roll us back into the spectral choral outro, "and let us drink-and
let us smile-and let us go." I must say, hearing those ghostly
voices anew even after decades of familiarity, they still
rattle me hard with their deadpan execution and shivery implications.
For those of us with a mind properly attuned, this is strong
stuff indeed.
I'll admit I do a serious disservice to the concluding
tracks, "Dusk" and of course the studio version of the band's
great early concert rave-up "The Knife" by not singing their
praises in the same detail as I did "Stagnation." While I
don't believe either shines as brilliantly as "Stagnation,"
they definitely muster some high-intensity photons all by
themselves. "Dusk" is a beautiful little piece of acoustic
rock chamber music, again featuring the same shadowy chorus
used so effectively in "Stagnation." I presume these voices
were Phillips & Mayhew's because we never heard them again
in Genesis music after "Trespass." "The Knife" is the well-known
jackboot-stomping fascist alert opening with Tony Bank's opening
minor-to-major key organ riff igniting the full electric band
really, for the first time on the album.
"Trespass" I would realize in hindsight, was Genesis still
in a formative stage; after its release Phillips & Mahew left
to be replaced by the drummer (Phil Collins) and guitarist
(Steve Hackett) who would stabilize their line up for several
years and win them fan allegiance in the gladiatorial arenas
of concert halls worldwide. I might be willing to admit that
my fierce attraction to "Trespass" is at least partly due
to its unique line-up, except (as should be abundantly obvious)
it continues to impress me as an especially lofty peak in
a body of work boasting several. Let me just poke the hive
a little by saying that the only other Genesis release this
consistently strong was their "swan song," the tepidly received
"We Can't Dance." But that will have to be another review.
PS: One closing recommendation to any who pick up and
enjoy "Trespass:" you should also seek out Mike Rutherford's
1979 solo release, "Smallcreep's Day." This was Mike's first
solo release and it reunited him with Anthony Phillips (strangely,
Ant was now playing keyboards, and very nicely too I should
add). "Trespass" can't be attributed to Rutherford's influence
alone, but many of the fully-ripened melodic and arrangement
flourishes it exhibited are on full display here as well,
including an incredible turn as guest lead vocalist by the
mysterious Noel McCalla, who I never heard from again. I believe
it has been reissued on CD, available through Amazon, and
"Trespass" enthusiasts unfamiliar with it should buy and enjoy
it without hesitation.
GRADE: A
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