Author: Peter Podbrežnik
Artist: Gabriel, Peter
Label: Virgin Records
Release: 2002
Length: 66:40
Rating: 5/5
In the story of pretty much every musician, there comes a moment in their career when a creative crisis hits, for a while or for a long stretch. Not so for the legendary English singer, songwriter, producer and prog rock icon Peter Gabriel. A wise old hand who knows every trick in the book, and who reshaped the horizons of modern experimental and popular music at least twice over the course of his incredibly prolific career, he has always deftly dodged that kind of creative stagnation. Partly because, before recording every new project, he takes a serious amount of time to cook up fresh ideas. So almost ten years passed between his previous studio masterpiece “Us” (1992) and “Up,” which pushed plenty of devoted fans practically to the edge of their patience, especially after the official 1998 release date was bumped to 2002. But their ever-thinner patience was richly rewarded in the end with one of the best achievements of Peter’s career, which means the prog rock giant and patron of all kinds of musical innovation has outdone himself once again on “Up”.
The album’s title stayed the same from the start of recording right up to release, even though Peter briefly toyed with calling it “I/O” (that option remains open for the title of his next studio effort). In classic Peter fashion, “Up” is an intelligently and subtly structured collage of staggering sonic variety and brilliant production, one that never runs short of that distinctive ambient magic that can easily whisk the listener away beyond the usual physically tangible horizons. Credit for this polish goes to an army of highly talented collaborators from all over the world, and three of Peter’s favorites deserve special mention: bass guitar and Chapman Stick wizard Tony Levin (also a longtime member of King Crimson), the only musician on the album who has been with him since the very start of his solo career; longtime guitar master David Rhodes; and drummer Manu Katche, who has always brought a rich helping of rhythmic finesse from the world of ethnic music. That last ingredient has often played an important part in Peter’s sonic vocabulary, and it does on “Up” too, though in much smaller doses than on the previous two studio albums.
Besides handling the usual vocal and piano duties, the old fox once again played around with all sorts of gadgets, mostly electronic ones, so on individual tracks you can spot a colorful palette of computer-processed sound samples, and on the keyboard front he didn’t skimp on a well-balanced use of keyed instruments either, led by the Mellotron. On top of all that, with its timed outbursts of distorted guitar phrases and some almost aggressive, semitone-heavy sound patterns on certain tracks, “Up” is by far the hardest-hitting record in Peter’s body of work, which is yet another proof of his incredible versatility and a testament to the man’s constant need to try something new. What matters most to the majority of Peter’s fans, though, is the simple fact that his voice has stayed untouched over the years, and has even gained emotional depth, despite the fact that, at least in terms of looks, he has turned into a silver-bearded, thinning-haired “Uncle Kosobrin” in record time. His singing is still a one-of-a-kind blend of warmth, mockery and melancholy, delivered from the depths of heart and soul, and it has no trouble touching some of the listener’s most basic spiritual needs.
Peter’s lyrics, thanks to their all-around true-to-life quality and the power of the individual messages, are once again in a class of their own, and they’ve only gotten more mature over the years. Most of the words revolve around transcendental themes like birth, growing up and death, but in between you can also stumble on carefully measured doses of endearingly biting social satire, like on the album’s first single, “The Barry Williams Show,” where Peter treats himself to a merciless parody of those nauseating American reality talk shows in the style of Jerry Springer.
The album shines from start to finish, so picking its most dazzling moments is impossible. Just the opening, with the dark “Darkness,” where after a quiet intro the listener gets riddled with thunderous doses of semitone guitar phrases, Levin’s menacingly grooving bass line and carefully compressed sound samples, is so brilliantly conceived that it can give you goosebumps even after countless listens. By deftly maneuvering between aggressive moments, where he uses a vocoder, and clean singing over gentle piano accompaniment, Peter slowly builds up a varied mood. It morphs from dark shades into brighter colors with incredible skill, which matches the lyrics about an individual’s inner struggle with their deepest personal fears.
Next up is probably the best-known track on the album, the brilliant “Growing Up,” which also came out as a single. Mostly thanks to its incredibly intelligently arranged seasoning of funky sound samples, it presents Peter in a completely different songwriting guise once again. Electronically savvy rhythm patterns and rich waves of Mellotron back a hypnotic melody, which Peter’s astonishingly emotional vocal performance diligently carries. Here some old tricks (the Mellotron) and modern finesse (grooving electronic samples) successfully shake hands, once again putting the master in the role of an artist who transcends any test of time. The lyrics are about the beginning of life, from the first heartbeat inside the womb. The transcendental “Sky Blue” is a strong candidate for the most beautiful ambient piece on the album, thanks to an emotionally uplifting blend of sonic curtains and rich vocal harmonies. On it Peter more than successfully joined forces with the famous American gospel group Blind Boys of Alabama and with fellow countryman, legendary blues rock guitarist Peter Green, who provided plenty of poignant moments on slide guitar. By Peter’s own account, he worked on this composition for ten years. In the end he created one of his strongest ambient pieces, where his singing, together with the backing harmonies of the “blind boys” and Green’s slide guitar, creates heart-wrenching magic.
“No Way Out” is the first lyrical moment on the album where Peter tackles the theme of death, one of the two themes that keep running through the record. The basic motif is built from a witty guitar phrase blended with a colorful mix of ethnic percussion. Around this foundation, with the help of piano and excellent singing, Peter successfully builds a mighty melody that carries him through the mysterious opening atmosphere and steers it toward brighter shades, with a climax in the chorus. “I Grieve,” where Peter once again “talks” to death in the lyrics, represents a whole new level of songwriting and emotional maturity, with a generous helping of ambient sensibility. With his usual vocal magic, he once again conjures up the most genuine emotions, the very picture of the man’s essence, and backs this top-notch vocal performance with mighty synth curtains in the background. A totally unexpected and highly witty twist comes from the violin improvisation by the legendary L. Shankar, which sends the composition sailing into completely different, more ethnic-flavored waters.
The funniest moment on the album is undoubtedly the aforementioned social satire “The Barry Williams Show,” where he settles scores with moronic reality talk shows. The lyrics are so brilliantly grotesque and entertaining that you’d search for anything like them among Peter’s fellow musicians today in vain. Without a shred of mercy, he lays out some of the less cheerful sides of our highly cultured, democratic society. The song’s structure is very simple, built on an almost r’n’b-style rhythmic pulse, while a sly trumpet part by Christian Le Chevretel provides an elegant, jazzy breeze. The climax is a downright cheeky chorus that doesn’t lack for sarcasm, while the dramatic build-up and harmonic contrast between the arrangements come from subtle Mellotron entries within individual instrumental sections. Something this mocking and satirical, which could ironically also have hit potential, can only be born these days with a master like Gabriel at the helm.
The sentimental ballad “My Heads Sounds Like That,” which shares some kinship with Lennon’s legendary classic “Imagine” through its piano arrangements, radiates incredible confessional power and once again shows Peter as a first-class explorer of some of the more complex corners of the human soul. The magical backing of orchestral arrangements is briefly cut through by an aggressive section built on electronic samples, after which the symphonic grandeur Peter has been committed to practically from the start of his musical journey (back in his Genesis days) returns. The fantastic “More Than This,” another track released as a single, is one of the most spirited creations on the album, with a determined guitar phrase and turbulent rhythmic meanders. It also has a meaningful lyric in which Peter wonders whether there might not be something more important in life than the usual rush from one moment to the next. This would-be hit boasts a mighty, soaring chorus with plenty of vocal harmonies, while engaged bass lines and elegant keyboard arrangements contribute their share to the superb atmosphere.
The brilliant “Signal to Noise” is the next grand achievement when it comes to Peter’s constant experimenting with diverse sonic horizons. Fitting in the fantastic vocal performance by the legendary Pakistani singer Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, an important musician in the devotional music of the Sufis (the mystical tradition within Islam), was a special challenge, since Khan had already passed away while the album was being recorded. To land a fitting contribution from the late guest vocalist, he had to stitch together some old live recordings and an early 1996 version of the song of the same name. The atmosphere within the composition is outstanding, almost entirely transcendental, thanks to the unique combination of Ali Khan’s energetic singing (some would say screeching), which brings in a mystical oriental charm, and Peter’s melancholic vocals, propped up on turbulent waves of Mellotron.
In the background you can also hear sly electronic sound samples that create the sound of ominous laughter, as if some mischievous demonic apparition were cackling away. The dramatic mood swells toward boiling point through mighty symphonics, followed by a transition into a heart-wrenching, deeply melancholic and almost entirely orchestral section. Without a doubt, one of the best achievements of Peter’s career. After all that drama, it feels somehow fitting for the album to close with the serene ballad “The Drop,” where Peter is alone at his piano and, over a gentle, almost fragile melody, gets off his chest the last thoughts on the transience of human life that were weighing on his soul.
With “Up,” the legendary prog rock artist has outdone himself yet again and made another timeless masterpiece, one that leaves the countless followers of his musical legacy with nothing to do but blush helplessly and stand as mute witnesses to the fact that the master keeps outclassing his students on his sonic adventure. You could count on one hand the musicians and songwriters of Peter’s caliber who managed to redefine their sound so successfully with every new album while staying true to their own songwriting heritage, even with quite a few years passing between each record. It’s a price that, given the master’s obsession with sonic and production perfection and the fact that he pours every last bit of heart and soul into everything he makes, is undoubtedly worth paying.
Lineup
Peter Gabriel – vocals, piano, keyboards
Tony Levin – bass guitar
David Rhodes – guitar, backing vocals
Manu Katche – drums
Dave Power – drums
Mahut Dominique – percussion
Ged Lynch – percussion, drums
Richard Chappell – percussion
Daniel Lanois – percussion, guitar
Peter Green – guitar
David Sancious – Hammond organ
Melanie Gabriel – backing vocals
The Blind Boys of Alabama – backing vocals
Steve Gadd – drums
Dominic Greensmith – drums
Hassan Ramzy – tabla
Danny Thompson – double bass
Will White – percussion
Stephen Hague – percussion
Richard Evans – acoustic guitar
Shankar – double violin
Christian Le Chevretel – trumpet
and many others…
Production
Peter Gabriel
Track list
1. Darkness
2. Growing Up
3. Sky Blue
4. No Way Out
5. I Grieve
6. The Barry Williams Show
7. My Head Sounds Like That
8. More Than This
9. Signal To Noise
10. The Drop
