It wasn’t all elves and wizards, you know. This muddled but mesmerising epic from fourth album chooses as its subject the corporate greed of private landlords: thank goodness that’s not something we have to worry about these days, eh? Of course, this being Gabriel, it’s not that simple: the main characters may be a bailiff and a to-be-evicted tenant, but after the instrumental break we flash forward to the future – 2012 – where all humans are shortened to four feet in height, so that Genetic Control can squeeze twice as many into housing blocks. Sci-fi? Social realism? Just your average Genesis song.
Before they’d properly found their feet (they sound like early Bee Gees) and before then-manager Jonathan King was disgraced, the young Charterhouse schoolboys were rushed into debut album , over which King bunged a load of strings without their knowledge. Still, the songwriting is strong – but it’s the two-minute coda which really haunts you. Gabriel, in soulful voice, appears to be singing a standard, flowery, I-love-my-woman ballad.
However, it transpires that he’s inside her womb; and he likes it there because it’s warm and cosy. Either that or it’s the weirdest lyric about shagging ever. Sign up below to get the latest from Prog, plus exclusive special offers, direct to your inbox! Those attending ’s splendid shows in recent years will have been charmed – or perhaps alarmed – by the sight of thousands of men of a certain age enthusiastically yelli.
