Scratching in the Dirt: Peter Gabriel’s Scratch My Back

Peter Gabriel Scratch My Back

 

As a Peter Gabriel fan for over two decades, it’s dif­fi­cult to admit that I find myself strug­gling to appre­ci­ate his first new album in years.

There have always been three core things to love about Gabriel’s work: his lit­er­ate song­writ­ing, metic­u­lous sound­scapes, and emo­tion­ally expres­sive voice. Behind the creep­ily organic album art, Scratch My Back is an exper­i­ment in sub­trac­tion. It finds Gabriel cov­er­ing other artists’ songs, accom­pa­nied only by solo piano or orches­tra (the oddly defen­sive mar­ket­ing pitch “No drums, no gui­tars” says it all). That leaves only the voice. Soul­ful and grav­elly even as a teenage cofounder of Gen­e­sis in 1967, Gabriel’s voice should be more than enough to jus­tify any­thing, so my pat reduc­tion here is not totally fair. Gabriel and John Met­calfe clearly labored over these orches­tral arrange­ments, but I miss the com­plex son­ics of the rock and world music instru­men­ta­tion that has char­ac­ter­ized most of his music for over 40 years.

Gabriel did very nearly the oppo­site a decade ago, when his high-concept mil­len­nium project Ovo made a point of cast­ing Paul Buchanan and The Cocteau Twins’ Eliz­a­beth Fraser to sing his songs. The most recent col­lec­tion of his own songs was 2002’s Up, fol­lowed in 2009 by the col­lab­o­ra­tive project Big Blue Ball. Casual fans of his music might not be aware that Gabriel is an active human­i­tar­ian, par­tic­u­larly as cofounder of Wit­ness and The Elders, so the tem­po­ral gap between his musi­cal ven­tures is not entirely explained by chronic pro­cras­ti­na­tion (although he would prob­a­bly be the first to admit he’s eas­ily dis­tracted). Gabriel has stated that he hopes to work on more song-swap projects in the future, but first plans to work on some of his own songs. How long until he pre­pares a new album over which he can claim sole authorship?

Peter Gabriel Scratch My Back

Gabriel told the New York Times:

I was try­ing to make a grown-up record […] This is treat­ing peo­ple as if they can han­dle dif­fi­cult music and words. Not that I’ve courted the low­est com­mon denom­i­na­tor before, but there’s a play­ful­ness and child­ish­ness in some of my older work that isn’t present on this record.”

He is pre­sum­ably refer­ring to the media satire of “Games With­out Fron­tiers” and “The Barry Williams Show”, the randy sex romps “Sledge­ham­mer” and “Kiss That Frog”, and the vaude­ville silli­ness of “Excuse Me” and “Big Time”. Gabriel is one of the few musi­cians that I first lis­tened to as a teenager, but whose music has aged with me. So I would have expected myself to appre­ci­ate an album of him cov­er­ing many songs that I know and love well (par­tic­u­larly David Bowie, Lou Reed, Elbow, and Talk­ing Heads), but I find that I don’t know what to make of Scratch my Back even after repeated listening.

Many song­writ­ers lose their dark edge as they age (case in point: Pink Floyd’s once tor­tured, prickly Roger Waters is now a big smi­ley softie), and by all accounts Gabriel should have been fol­low­ing that track too. After leav­ing Gen­e­sis in 1975 to deal with fam­ily issues, his first four solo albums were increas­ingly dark and sin­is­ter. But 1986’s So marked a notice­able turn­around in tone and an appar­ent psy­chic heal­ing. Now report­edly still pals with his old Gen­e­sis cohorts, aging grace­fully into a pot­belly and gnomish goa­tee, remar­ry­ing, father­ing two new sons, and rec­on­cil­ing with his two daugh­ters from a pre­vi­ous mar­riage, he seemed to be trans­form­ing into a cud­dly grand­fa­ther fig­ure. A trickle of releases over the past decade showed him favor­ing directly-worded songs for chil­dren, includ­ing the Oscar-nominated “That’ll Do” (from the movie Babe), the unsub­tle “Ani­mal Nation” (from The The Wild Thorn­ber­rys Movie), and “Down to Earth” (from Wall-E).

Sud­denly, he appears to have reversed back into depres­sive ter­ri­tory. Nearly every song cho­sen for Scratch My Back has been trans­formed into a mourn­ful dirge. Espe­cially when lis­tened to in one sit­ting, I find many of the inter­pre­ta­tions to be too depress­ing, and I actu­ally like depress­ing music. My favorite exam­ples along these lines are Michael Andrews and Gary Jules’ cry-your-guts-out cover of Tears for Fears’ “Mad World” (from the movie Don­nie Darko), and Elbow’s ago­niz­ingly heartrend­ing ver­sion of U2’s “Run­ning to Stand Still” (from the War Child ben­e­fit album Heroes).

Peter Gabriel Scratch My Back

Gabriel’s ver­sion of The Mag­netic Fields’ “Book of Love” has appar­ently become some­thing of a sen­sa­tion on YouTube, licensed in tele­vi­sion shows, and played at celebrity wed­dings. Per­haps I’m cold­hearted, but it does absolutely noth­ing for me. Song­writer Stephin Mer­ritt says his ver­sion was sar­cas­tic, while Gabriel’s is deadly serious:

At first I thought, How hilar­i­ous, he’s got a com­pletely dif­fer­ent take on the song. But after a few lis­tens I find it quite sweet. My ver­sion of the song focuses on the humor, and his focuses on the pathos. Of course, if I could sing like him I wouldn’t have to be a humorist.

Did Gabriel just plain miss Merritt’s point, or did he inten­tion­ally trans­form it into some­thing sen­ti­men­tal, singing the same words but alter­ing the instru­men­ta­tion and deliv­ery? All that said, some­thing to cher­ish in Gabriel’s cover is the pres­ence of his daugh­ter Melanie on back­ing vocals.

Elbow’s “Mir­ror­ball” is one of the most rav­ish­ing love songs I’ve heard. Elbow remixed Gabriel’s “More Than This” in 2002, pro­vid­ing a more organic rock struc­ture to Gabriel’s per­haps over-processed stu­dio orig­i­nal. But Gabriel does not return the favor here, turn­ing their gor­geous love song into a depres­sive bummer.

The once case where Gabriel’s bummer-o-vision may have actu­ally been appro­pri­ate is with Paul Simon’s “Boy in the Bub­ble”, which actu­ally does have very dark lyrics.

The orig­i­nal record­ing of David Bowie’s “Heroes” boasts an unfor­get­table lead gui­tar line from Robert Fripp, which by his own rules Gabriel must sub­tract. He sings Bowie’s Berlin-inspired lyrics in cracked, anguished tones, not an emo­tion I asso­ciate with the song.

The one song I liked imme­di­ately was “Lis­ten­ing Wind”. The orig­i­nal is one of the odder tracks on Talk­ing Heads’ Remain in Light, and Gabriel rather amaz­ingly draws out a catchy melody embed­ded in the exper­i­men­tal song.

The Spe­cial Edi­tion includes a sec­ond cd with four bonus tracks: a cover of The Kinks’ “Water­loo Sun­set” and alter­nate ver­sions of “The Book of Love”, “My Body is a Cage”, and “Heroes”. It might have been inter­est­ing to also include some of Gabriel’s past cov­ers, includ­ing The Bea­t­les’ “Straw­berry Fields”, Leonard Cohen’s “Suzanne”, and Joseph Arthur’s “In the Sun”. I would have also very much liked to hear instru­men­tal mixes of some of Metcalfe’s orches­tral arrangements.


Offi­cial Peter Gabriel site: www.petergabriel.com

Buy the Scratch My Back Spe­cial Edi­tion from Ama­zon and kick back a few pen­nies to The Dork Report.


The Decemberists Live at Radio City Music Hall, June 10, 2009

 

Robyn Hitch­cock & The Venus 3 (includ­ing Peter Buck of R.E.M. and Bill Rieflin of Min­istry, R.E.M., and The Humans) opened with an enjoy­able 30-minute set. I was unfa­mil­iar with Hitch­cock, but by total coin­ci­dence had just days before seen his appear­ance in Jonathan Demme’s Rachel Get­ting Mar­ried. His quirky non sequiturs between songs (“I had a root canal this morn­ing, which is why I’m wear­ing a hat” — which he wasn’t) con­trasted with his focused, tight songs. The Decem­berists’ Colin Meloy briefly joined in on tam­bourine and back­ing vocals.

Robyn Hitchcock and The Venus 3 live at Radio City Music HallColin Meloy joins Robyn Hitch­cock & The Venus 3 as they warm up the crowd

I’m a late­comer to The Decem­berists, only catch­ing on with their third album The Crane Wife (2006), which fea­tures a guest appear­ance by Laura Veirs, one of my favorite singer/songwriters, on the won­der­ful track “Yan­kee Bay­o­net.” My inter­est was fur­ther piqued by a review (that I now can’t track down) that com­pared them to early Gen­e­sis, of which I am also a long­time fan. It’s a bold com­par­i­son, for few would clas­sify The Decem­berists’ music as pro­gres­sive rock. But it is fit­ting inso­far as their com­po­si­tions are often epic nar­ra­tives, encom­pass­ing styles rang­ing from pas­toral folk to hard rock, all per­formed with high musi­cian­ship that eschews flashy indi­vid­ual solo­ing. Fur­ther bol­ster­ing their prog rock cred, the first half of The Decem­berists’ set was the entirety of their 2009 con­cept album, The Haz­ards of Love.

In ret­ro­spect, a con­cept album was inevitable for a such a band that had already shown a pen­chant for lengthy story-based songs like “The Mariner’s Revenge Song” (on Picaresque, 2005) and “The Crane Wife Parts 1–3.” Com­pared to Gen­e­sis’ grand but slightly incon­sis­tent epics “Supper’s Ready” and The Lamb Lies Down on Broad­way, The Haz­ards of Love is actu­ally one of the most cohe­sive con­cept albums I’ve heard. It rivals The Who’s Quadrophe­nia for clar­ity of vision and cohe­sive­ness of its recur­ring musi­cal themes.

The Decemberists live at Radio City Music HallMy cam­era is momen­tar­ily over­whelmed by the proceedings

An instru­men­tal organ intro (sorry to keep bring­ing them up, but pos­si­bly an idea bor­rowed from Gen­e­sis’ “Watcher of the Skies”) launches the epic fairy tale. The role of a girl that falls in love with a for­est crea­ture is sung on record and live by the airy, sweet voice of Laven­der Diamond’s Becky Stark. My Bright­est Diamond’s Shara Wor­den, a pint-sized, multi-instrumentalist pow­er­house, blowed everybody’s hair back as the evil for­est queen. How does a girl that small have such pow­er­ful pipes?

Although a few tracks can stand on their own (espe­cially “The Rake’s Song”), the entire suite deserves to be heard in one piece. It was a very bold move to release a 58-minute song suite at a time when the long-player album is dying, and music is con­sumed track-by-track and ran­domly shuf­fled by iPod algo­rithms. Per­son­ally, I had found the album a lit­tle slow to absorb, but now that I’ve wit­nessed the whole thing live… wow. It’s bril­liant, and made to be expe­ri­enced live, in one piece.

The Decemberists live at Radio City Music HallBecky Stark & Shara Wor­den join The Decem­berists to cover Heart’s “Crazy On You”

The sec­ond set mostly fea­tured songs I didn’t know, so it’s time for me to visit Ama­zon MP3 to buy up their back cat­a­logue. Peter Buck came back out to join them for a cover of “Begin the Begin” from my favorite R.E.M. album Lifes Rich Pageant (I was unable to shake Michael Stipe’s hook “The insur­gency began and you missed it” from my head the entire walk home from the show). Stark and Wor­den rejoined the band for a full-blooded cover of all things, Heart’s “Crazy On You.” Their ren­di­tion was totally faith­ful, and yet some­how man­aged to sound both like a Decem­berist orig­i­nal as well as some­thing Fleet­wood Mac might have done. They ended on a high note for me, with one of my per­sonal favorite Decem­berist songs, “Sons & Daughters.”


Offi­cial band site: www.decemberists.com

Buy The Dece­me­berists’ The Haz­ards of Love and Robyn Hitch­cock & The Venus 3’s Good­night Oslo from Ama­zon and kick back a few pen­nies to The Dork Report.


The Musical Box — Highline Ballroom, New York

 

The Musi­cal Box is a Cana­dian group that stages elab­o­rate recre­ations of entire con­certs given by the Eng­lish pro­gres­sive rock band Gen­e­sis in the early 1970s. They per­form closely-observed note-for-note cover ver­sions of the orig­i­nal songs, in the orig­i­nal set list order, with full recre­ations of the set design, props, cos­tumes, vin­tage instru­ments, and even the man­ner­isms of the orig­i­nal Gen­e­sis. So while it is tech­ni­cally true that they are essen­tially a cover band, how many of those tour the world sev­eral times over and land gigs at sig­nif­i­cant venues like The High­line Ball­room? It speaks to both the integrity of the orig­i­nal Gen­e­sis music and to The Musi­cal Box’s own skills that they are not a mere trib­ute band gig­ging through bars and frat houses.

The Musical Box

At the High­line Ball­room, The Musi­cal Box per­formed Gen­e­sis’ famed “Black Show,” orig­i­nally in sup­port of the 1973 album Sell­ing Eng­land By the Pound, and widely boot­legged as the “Rain­bow Show”. Gen­e­sis’ typ­i­cal “White Show” was more elab­o­rately staged, but due to venue require­ments and the trou­bles of ship­ping their gear inter­na­tion­ally, they would some­times play the stripped-down Black Show, so known for its low stage light­ing and sim­ple black back­drop. The Musi­cal Box’s per­for­mance had amaz­ing sound fidelity, and was one of the best-sounding live con­certs I’ve ever heard. No doubt the actual Gen­e­sis (many of whom have seen The Musi­cal Box live and have even sat in with them on occa­sion) wish they had such mod­ern audio tech­nol­ogy at their dis­posal in the early 1970s.

The mem­bers of The Musi­cal Box are as much actors as they are crack musi­cians. Fit­tingly, Peter Gabriel him­self was mostly act­ing onstage; the famously shy young man masked his dis­com­fort with an out­landish stage per­sona full of cos­tumes, masks, and mime. Denis Gagné is per­haps a touch too old to play a stringbean-thin Gabriel in his early twen­ties, but does an extra­or­di­nary job of cap­tur­ing his vocals and stage pres­ence, right down to the hilar­i­ously filthy sto­ries Gabriel used to tell between songs as the rest of the band retuned their instruments.

The Musical Box

The only per­former out of 70s bell-bottom cos­tume was Gregg Ben­dian as “Phil Collins.” He was, how­ever, para­dox­i­cally one of the most authen­tic per­form­ers, recre­at­ing Collins’ unmis­tak­ably mus­cu­lar and enthu­si­as­tic drum­ming. After becom­ing famous as a tele­vi­sion actor and cheesy pop super­star in the 1980s, It’s easy to for­get that Collins is first and fore­most one of rock’s best drummers.

The Musical Box

The rest of Gen­e­sis was very seri­ous and reserved, and relied on Gabriel to engage the audi­ence as they played. Sébastien Lamothe enlivens the bearded, seri­ous Steve Hackett’s gui­tar embell­ish­ments (not one of Gen­e­sis’ core song­writ­ers, Hack­ett was how­ever a bril­liant gui­tarist and one of the inven­tors of the two-handed tap­ping tech­nique). Sébastien Lamothe straps on a gen­uine double-necked Rick­en­bocker to play Mike Ruther­ford, with the ded­i­ca­tion to verisimil­i­tude to grow a full beard and flow­ing locks. David Myers plays Tony Banks, the stoic unsmil­ing anchor on stage right, but sadly relies on mod­ern syn­the­siz­ers (noth­ing com­pares to the raw sound of an actual Mel­lotron).

And finally, a cheap shot: the audi­ence was far from the usual sort seen at New York City venues. A notice­ably older set, with a very strong dork fla­vor (with shirts tucked in over pot bel­lies), but there was a sur­pris­ing num­ber of women (not tra­di­tion­ally an audi­ence for pro­gres­sive rock).

The Musical Box

A few notes on the songs:

• Cin­ema Show — it’s dif­fi­cult to fully appre­ci­ate the very long (approx. 5 min­utes!) instru­men­tal power trio sequence fea­tur­ing Collins, Banks, Ruther­ford until you wit­ness it live. Wow! Gen­e­sis was a lot “heav­ier” than I ever real­ized from sim­ply lis­ten­ing to the albums.

• Firth of Fifth — Steve Hackett’s hair-raising melody line must be one of the best gui­tar moments in rock, ever, and no doubt Lamothe rel­ishes play­ing it live.

• The Musi­cal Box — the coda sequence (dur­ing which Gabriel famously wore a grotesque “old man” mask) drove the crowd bananas. Clearly the band is aware of the song’s power, for they took their name from it.

• The Bat­tle of Epping For­est is the rare clas­sic Gen­e­sis song that I haven’t already mem­o­rized over the years. Gabriel affected lots of char­ac­ter voices in the orig­i­nal, and thus this is per­haps the one point when Gagné’s imper­son­ation fails him.

• Supper’s Ready — had The Musi­cal Box not already pro­vided a pre­ma­ture cli­max to the show, the clos­ing “Apoc­a­lypse” sequence to Supper’s Ready would have been it.

• The Knife (encore) — why aren’t Gen­e­sis cred­ited more often for record­ing one of the ear­li­est hard rock songs? The Knife is so dark, loud, and aggres­sive, it could pos­si­bly even be called metal.


Offi­cial site: themusicalbox.net