Disc 004 - Peter Gabriel - Peter Gabriel 3 (Melt)

The Disc: Peter Gabriel has left his fingerprints on enough forms of media to convince me he's got extra hands. Fans of late 80s films can't listen to "In Your Eyes" without picturing John Cusack holding aloft a boombox. If you watched Mtv in the mid-80s, "Sledgehammer" comes with associations of stop-motion animation, clay models, and awkward closeups. His time in Genesis was marked by wild theatricality, including multiple elaborate costumes and strange stage performances.

Then there are the songs themselves. The two aforementioned hits as well as, "Solsbury Hill," his classic (though now overused) farewell to Genesis are just some of the more well-known tracks and only scratch the surface of the breadth of style and songwriting prowess Gabriel has displayed during his long career. From faux mo-town to acoustic ballads to world music, he was successful in multiple genres. Though his releases have been sporadic and varying in both quality and relevance since 1986's So, Gabriel definitely cultivated an expansive landscape of work early enough to allow him to be as indulgent and apathetic to public opinion as he has become.

Starting in 1977, Gabriel released a series of four eponymous albums emblazoned with stylized images of his own face on each cover. To distinguish between them, fans have since taken to either referring to them by number (similar to Led Zeppelin's approach) or by nicknames derived from the cover's image. The third of these, "Melt," is his most critically acclaimed, but not as commercially successful as its predecessors. In fact, some of the early mixes prompted an Atlantic A&R exec to recommend Gabriel be dropped from the label entirely. Apparently, it was not everyone's cup of tea...

My Copy's Origins: Those of us who had a particularly happy and illusioned childhood spend much of our adult life trying to lasso a certain feeling we once had in our youth in order to reel it in, climb on top, and ride it as long as we can keep from getting bucked back to the dirt. That feeling may come from an entire mental summation of young life, a brief span in our early years, or from one fleeting moment that we never forget.

For me, it was standing in a neighbor's backyard at sunset holding a plastic lightsaber.

In 2005, I rented In Good Company to watch one late night in my new 4th floor apartment. I don't remember too much about the film itself, but it's use of "Solsbury Hill" triggered something in my psyche. During my muddled and distracted experiences throughout the 1980s, I don't recall ever hearing this song, but somehow it felt like that day. It conjured up an emotion that I didn't understand when I was 5 years old, but enjoyed, and it managed to stick with me. As I stepped out into the late night air on the fire escape that was my back porch, I felt invigorated by the emotions of that song. I ordered Gabriel's first album, "Car," the next day, and I enjoyed it so much, I bought the next two albums a week later.

To Toss: The obvious question would be, "Why is Gabriel's (melted) head on the (proverbial) chopping block, then?" Well, the primary reason this disc might be tossable is that I've never listened to it. I chalk this up to a few factors:

As I said, I purchased "Car," "Scratch" and "Melt" in rapid succession over the course of two weeks. This is a former habit of mine that I have purposely tried to abandon in recent years, as it tends to overload me with more music than I can absorb. It's just not possible to give the appropriate amount of attention to three new CD's at once. Typically, a move like this results in one disc becoming a mainstay in my listening rotation, and the other two being dropped back on the shelf like unloved latchkey children. "Car" became my favorite son, and its younger siblings were dismissed.

Secondly, though most critics value "Melt" as a high point in Gabriel's artistic career, few would ever label the record as "accessible," and neither would I. These are complicated songs that don't grab you immediately with a hook or beat. A true listener needs set aside time to delve into these tracks and allow them to really sink in.

Third, (and this is a true defect of the disc) while the music itself may not be, some of the sound and style choices are now dated. While "Car" had its moments of 70's excess, it mostly floated above the standard tropes of the decade with production that eschewed the latest trends in sonic texture. "Melt" sometimes allows the new kids to come and play, and the songs suffer for it. The album's highest charting single (tied with "Sledgehammer" as Gabriel's highest charting UK single) "Games Without Frontiers" is the worst offender, undermining the song's simple yet insightful war critique with cheesy synth leads and bass over an early version of the programmable drumset...

Not To Toss: ...but, I still want to listen to it. In fact, "Frontiers" manages to transcend both its heavy-handed message and production defaults with a playful feel and a highly enjoyable melody line. This is fairly characteristic of the rest of the CD. Even though it has a tendency to carry you back to 1980, you quickly forget where and when you are once you become engrossed in the atmosphere of the song itself.

Gabriel sets the tone quickly with "Intruder." Where "Car" was melancholy (beautifully represented by the cover photo) and "Scratch" an immediate attack (ditto), "Melt" is, for lack of a better word, creepy. The opening chords, coupled with a pounding drumbeat (almost a mimic of a pumping heart) and the slow scratch of a guitar string make the listener uneasy before Gabriel's voice even begins softly singing:

I know something about opening windows and doors.
I know how to move quietly to creep across creaky wooden floors.
I know where to find precious things in all your cupboards and drawers.

-"Intruder"

The album is divided into two distinct halves that link thematically. For our purposes here, let's call them...oh, I don't know... side one and side two:

Side one is focused inwardly. It deals with the neuroses and dysfunctions of people who are battling demons inside them. Though "Intruder" revels in its vices, "No Self Control" sounds and feels like an addict having a nervous breakdown. It is also the antithesis of the dated production found in "Games Without Frontiers" and "I Don't Remember." Here, the synthesizers blend seamlessly with the guitar and marimba to create a single sonic entity. By the time Phil Collins executes the drum fill at 2:04, I'm sold.

This paranoid and self-loathing pathway culminates in "Family Snapshot," as Gabriel examines the mindset and methodical plotting of an assassin seeking the limelight for killing a politician. Based on Arthur Bremer's diary, An Assassin's Diary, chronicling his attempted murder of presidential candidate George Wallace, the song connects the would-be assassin's motives with a neglected childhood, flashing back in its coda to his youth:

All turned quiet-I have been here before,
Lonely boy hiding behind the front door.
Friends have all gone home.
There's my toy gun on the floor.
Come back Mum and Dad.
You're growing apart.
You know that I'm growing up sad.
I need some attention.
I shoot into the light.

-"Family Snapshot"

"And Through the Wire" connects this inner turmoil to side two of the album. This half is focused on outward struggles, mostly war and injustice. It concludes with the rousing and inspiring "Biko," which chronicles the abuse and eventual death of anti-apartheid activist Steve Biko. Once again, it is not just the content of this song that makes it so moving, but also the choice of instrumentation. The tribal rhythms and African singing melds with a distant bagpipe buried in the left channel. The feeling recreated is that of a Scottish elegy for the fallen South African martyr.

The Verdict: It should be plain that I only have two misgivings about this CD being in my collection. The first is the interspersing of dated production values throughout that can distract from the quality of the songs. However, the songwriting is strong enough that the scales tend to tip in Gabriel's favor. The second is that it took me so long to listen to it.

"Melt" is a keeper.

Now, if I could just find that plastic lightsaber...

Disc 003 - Metal Molly - Surgery for Zebra

The Disc: Hailing from Belgium, the mythical land that gave us such brilliant artists as Django Reinhardt, K's Choice, and Eric Clapton*, Metal Molly were (or sometimes are according to some sources) a 90's alternative rock trio who eschewed lyrical content for... well, funny-sounding English words that sort of rhymed. Surgery for Zebra, their first album, was released in 1996. They then split up the following year, only to reform in 2000 and deliver a second album, The Golden Country. Surgery, however, seems to be the one that garnered them what little attention they received stateside.

Oh, yeah. It's also got a dude in a gas mask on the cover. So, that's a plus.

My Copy's Origins: I don't know about anyone else, but for me in the mid-90's, the place to be on Sunday nights at midnight was watching MTV's 120 Minutes with Matt Pinfield. Well, actually, the place for me to be on Sunday nights at midnight was in bed, because I had to get up for school in the morning. But the VCR timer was set to record, and then I'd watch it when I got home on Monday afternoon.

I'd listen for hours (two to be exact) while Matt Pinfield made esoteric connections between Stephen Malkmus and former Egyptian UN Secretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali. I'd watch excitedly to see what 1970's British punk band's cover version of a classic folk tune Tim Armstrong had requested they play. I'd wait anxiously for the second hour when Stabbing Westward was set to perform "What Do I Have to Do?" live in an empty soundstage.

But mostly, I watched for the new videos. Most of these clips would never make it into rotation during daylight hours. Some of them might never even feature again on the show. It was like they'd barely clawed their way out of the pit of obscurity to peek their heads out and be seen for a brief 3 minutes, only to lose their grip and fall back to the bottom of the chasm immediately after. Metal Molly did exactly that with their video for the single, "Orange."

Not bad if you like toy accordions and aren't easily nauseated by slowly spinning cameras. Apparently, I enjoyed it and didn't throw up because soon after I hitched a ride down to the Compact Disc Center in Bethlehem to scour the used CD racks where, luckily enough, I found it.

To Toss: Maybe "luckily enough" wasn't the right phrase. I think I better start with the positives...

Not To Toss: This record was produced marginally well. The guitar sounds pretty thin, even when distorted, and there are no "wow-that-sounded-cool-let-me-rewind-it" moments, but its sonic quality is average at worst. There are a few decent melodies and an occasional harmony to match. The disc even contains some nice instrumentation choices at times.

For instance, the organ solo that opens the album adds some nice texture to the music. It's unfortunate that that organ is never heard again after "Flipper" kicks in. Another nice touch is the small Salvation Army Band-type ensemble that marches out of earshot at the end of "Poolbell." Sadly, these highlights are simply intros and codas, and can't save the songs they prefix or suffix.

Of course, there's the snazzy bassline to "Orange" that first enticed me to purchase. Plus, the little lead guitar blips in "PVC" are very minor thrills.

Can you tell I'm grasping at straws here? Okay, let's get down to business...

To Toss (Take Two): Remember back in the early days of rock n' roll when bands were forced by their label to re-record track lyrics in foreign languages so they could appeal to a larger international audience? Heck, The Beatles even did it. Twice. I always wondered who did the translations and how good they were. I mean, how often was the lyrical content sacrificed for the sake of fixing the rhyme in another language and vice-versa? Some things must have been lost in translation.

Part of me hopes that happened on a much larger scale to the lyrics of Surgery for Zebra. Now, I'd like to think I'm not all that picky when it comes to lyrical content. After all, I do own several Wings albums, so I can handle style over substance. I'll even let a few cheap rhymes slide enough to pull out my copy of Coldplay's X&Y from time to time. But...

"I've got a bad case of chronic pneumonia.
There is a picture in me as well.
I've lost my first case of chronic amnesia.
What's my surname? I just can't tell..."

-"Flipper"

"Poolbell.
Candy.
Wish well.
Trendy."

-"Poolbell"

As much as I want to believe these lines were more meaningful in the original Dutch, my instincts tell me they were never written in Dutch, and the band's lead singer, Pascal Deweze instead relied heavily on the English rhyming dictionary his grootmoeder bought him for Whit Monday.

As a tribute to that event, he seems to have written this little classic:

"Wish I had a place where I could dweep.
They say that I'm an isolated creep.
Monday is queer.
So sincere.
Wish she was here.
Monday is queer.

Water shakes my knees.
Here's a strange disease.
Won't you help me please?"

-"Monday Is Queer"

I won't go on. Nonsense like this is worth listening to if there's a pretense of lyrical depth around it. Here, it's just random words that share similar final vowel and consonant sounds. Maybe this is that rare occasion in all of human history where putting these songs in the band's native tongue would actually cause something to be gained in translation.

The Verdict: Part of me resists tossing this out of fear that I may one day want to listen to "Superskunk" or the brief sound collage "60,000 Brill Buildings and Rising." Or maybe it's just that I haven't tossed one yet. Well, enough hesitation.

Surgery is getting tossed.

*Some critics still debate whether or not Eric Clapton was actually from Belgium or just liked to vacation there during the rainy season.