self-titled
[Atlantic-1983]
We tend to cover album milestones with a certain frequency
here. Whether it’s an iconic album, a personal favorite, or both, we’re no
strangers to commemorating the anniversaries of records that matter to us. This
time we’re going to make an exception and focus on an album that does not meet the
above criteria but is worthy of our analysis, nonetheless.
Generally speaking, self-titled albums tend to be debuts.
And when they're not, there is a tendency to dig a bit deeper into this
particular significance, often ascribing an artist defining,
statement-of-purpose label to the decision behind not naming the release. And
while there are surely instances of that to be found—'a scattered, sprawling and
indulgent piece of work, by a lethargic, yet often brilliant quartet which no
longer operates as a unit', seems to be the message behind the nomenclature of
The Beatles’ self-titled release aka ‘The White Album’—more often than not, the
self-titling of an album, deep into an artist’s career, has no real
significance.
In this particular case, the decision to self-title was
based on writing the songs as a unit, a valid yet uncommon reason for not
naming an album, but then again, these gentlemen used to be bandmates with
someone who had a very interesting take on all of this: Peter Gabriel decided
his solo albums would all be self-titled; like issues of a magazine, he likened it
to. Until his record company put a see thru sticker on his fourth and called it
Security [Geffen-1982], Gabriel had managed a trifecta of self-titled albums. That he
called his three following albums So [Geffen-1986], Us [Geffen-1992] and Up [Geffen-2002], respectively, probably says
more than he wanted to let on about his views on naming albums, but we digress.
Gabriel’s influence pops up on Genesis in the form of
leadoff track and first single “Mama”, which harkens back to Gabriel’s third
album [Mercury-1980], on which Phil Collins played drums, and which later influenced his own
“In the Air Tonight”. The band’s most successful UK single—which contains a
maniacal laugh by Collins, inspired by Grandmaster Flash and The Furious Five’s
hip-hop classic “The Message”, making the song a doozy of a trivia game
answer—"Mama" opens the album seemingly implying a more direct return to the band’s
art rock roots. No dice.
“Mama” is a ruse; Genesis is the album that marks their
official delving into the straight up pop music sweepstakes and the unforgivable “Illegal
Alien” is part of that Faustian development. Yeah, towards the end of the album
they take a stab at such prog-leaning, Duke [Atlantic-1980] and/or Abacab [Atlantic-1981] approved fare
with “Silver Rainbow” and “It’s Gonna Get Better”, but by then the damage has
been done.
Genesis is the last of the band’s transitional albums before
they unofficially became The Phil Collins Show, which is oddly fitting for a
self-titled album, but there you go.
