Genesis are going out with all guns blazing – and having fun
Let there be light. Genesis were always one of the more theatrically spectacular live bands of the progressive rock era, and as it was in the beginning, so it would be at the end. For the first night of their last tour, Genesis blasted Brimingham’s Utilita Arena with hundreds of choreographed spotlights and dazzling computer graphic imagery on vast high definition screens. It was certainly flashy and technically impressive. What might have surprised unbelievers more was how much heart and soul went into their show.
There may have been an element of distraction going on, but if so that was always the case. Genesis were never the most glamorous looking outfit, and age has not been particularly kind to some of them. Well, one in particular.
The core trio of guitarist and bassist Mike Rutherford (70), keyboard player Tony Banks (71) and their superstar frontman Phil Collins (70) have reunited after a 14- year absence for what Collins has suggested will be their farewell tour. It is a case of (to quote a Collins solo album) Hello, I Must Be Going. Rutherford and Banks still look like a couple of venerable university dons taking time out from their studies. But Collins has started resembling an old janitor who has been locked in the basement too long.
Collins has been very public about the health problems – including spinal injuries, trapped nerves and diabetes – that have assailed him in recent years. Seated throughout, grizzled, wizened and frail looking, I suspect this really will be his swansong. No longer able to play drums (his original role in Genesis), he was deputised by his 20-year-old son, Nicholas Collins, who demonstrated all of his father’s hard-hitting skill. Collins Snr was reduced to playing air drums and occasional tambourine.
There may have been some pathos in that, but the band were not intent on milking it. With two backing vocalists and long-serving second guitarist Daryl Stuermer, they blasted out a vigorous, slick and punchy set, covering all aspects of their expansive style.
With their recorded history encompassing flighty prog rock, intricate fusion and sleek eighties synth and drum machine pop rock, it can make for an odd mix of apparently incompatible elements, as if Pink Floyd, Toto, The Police and Depeche Mode were trying to find common ground. But even with keys dropped to accommodate Collins ageing voice, and occasional flat low notes and strained
Collins bound it all together – he didn’t become a superstar for nothing
high ones, Collins’ characterful delivery bound this improbable mix together. Let’s face it, he didn’t become a superstar for nothing.
Chairbound in centre stage, he led the audience in singalongs with mischievous raised eyebrows and flicks of the wrist. He got theatrically dark on Mama, bluesily playful on I Can’t Dance, and soulfully impassioned on Carpet Crawlers from The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway, an eerily beautiful singalong which sounds like a blueprint for Radiohead 25 years before they became critics’ darlings.
There should be nothing particularly progressive about nostalgia, but Genesis dived back into their catalogue with the zeal of mad sonic adventurers, making it all sound surprisingly fresh and bold. Banks splashed flamboyant synth sounds over every corner of the arena, Rutherford switched between bass and lead on his double necked guitar and Collins junior peeled off showy drum rolls while his father closed his eyes and lost himself in song.
A charming unplugged singalong section might have suggested a more sedate way for the old troupers to grow old gracefully. But frankly they looked like they were having way more fun delving into the madcap intricacies of deranged 70s band arrangements, while spotlights spun overhead like a UFO invasion and psychedelic patterns whirled on the giant screens. All good things have to come to an end, but despite challenging circumstances, Collins and his old colleagues look determined to go out all guns blazing.