NURSERY CRYME

Since everything has pretty much been said regarding this thirty-three year old chapter in the pages of prog history now, far beyond my desire of describing what I've been listening to in here for a long time, I rather tell you about how I discovered the sound of GENESIS. Certainly, "Nursery Cryme" was my first revelation to the never-ending world of magic and imagination of the British quintet guided by chameleonic Peter GABRIEL. Back in the early decade of the nineties, when I was barely 16 years old and still getting indoctrinated to the study and appreciation of progressive rock, I got this 1971 production as a "B" side to a mixed tape that contained several of the so-called "best of prog rock" prologues to those days and the enchantment of GENESIS upon me irremediably started from the moment when I flipped the tape over and into the cassette recorder and "The Musical Box" kicked off. The feeling still lingers on and even still, I get the creeps, just like the first time I ever played it.

That opening scene, went on for over ten minutes, which I enjoyed one by one. Ever since I listened to Peter GABRIEL's voice for the first time, it got carved in the back of my mind instantly. I even tried to impersonate the peculiar pitch of his voice. And even though, my English wasn't all that good back then as I presume it is today, I managed to learn the lyric to the song by heart. From the first set of strings played in the beginning to the last chord twanged off here, my senses got sucked in the execution entirely, leaving no room for me to move or to completely understand what I just gambled on to listen to, and I knew moments later, that I lost the musical challenge by winning over a whole new sensation.

Then, very softly, "For Absent Friends" came and went, throughout the melodic sound of tuned up guitars, preparing the expectation for the upcoming track on the tape. And some entrance I must say, "The return of the Giant Hogweed" has never gone out through the door in my head ever since. The flabbergasted and compassed sound of the electric guitar held in hand by master Steve HACKETT cages the sound of what appeared to be a drum kit struck by Phil COLLINS. The song follows a lineal, devouring stream just to the point where a soft piano, displayed marvelously by skillful Tony BANKS, breaks into the scene and everything becomes mighty challenging to the listener from there and onwards the end of the road for the song.

So far, the album was running exquisitely intriguing to my ears I must say. Then, "I heard the old man tell his tale.". Imperturbably, while ventilating the remaining air in the room, "Seven Stones" took the fourth step onto the next episode of this album. The sacred sound of a lonesome mellotron revealed what was going to be quite an epopee. Like depicting the sound of breaking waves through the story carefully described over the lyric to this piece, the shyness of GABRIEL's hiding flute develops the plot right in the middle of the song, gathering together the notes of an impromptu organ and a blindly perceived bass, mystically handled by Michael RUTHERFORD. The instruments are maneuvered simply delightfully, and each one of them provides the proper amount of solemnity the entire composition claims for. Unrepeatable display of accompaniment, just like that.

"Harold the Barrel" is the suitable opportunity for Peter GABRIEL to finally go into character. Throughout the three lasting minutes that describe this playful relate, the anchorman of the band experiences ten different changes of costume. A fresh act that deserves nothing but complete appreciation. The instrumentation here is rapidly distilled, where the impatience and desperation of a drum kit that keeps the beat, the piano that's stricken incessantly and a guitar that shows up every now and then, are the proven facts of how enjoyable a short composition could get. At its turn, "Harlequin" balances the frame with notes of tranquility that detach from the strings of a beholding acoustic guitar.

The epilog to this marvelously composed and arranged masterwork, provides the proper disclosure for the last six chapters related in here. "The Fountains of Salmacis" describes, in one single take, what this third album by GENESIS is all about. Providentially, every instrument collapse into an avalanche of emotions, discharging such energy that can barely be put into words. It was until this closing scene, where I could wrap my senses into some musical voraciousness. I got completely blown away the first time, and I still get to this day where I'm here before you in the shape of an undeserved review to a majestic piece of work. The fact of me acting so viscerally and daring to rate it four stars only, is due the lack of understanding I had back then towards the band to the conception I've got now, built through the years of listening to the sound of GENESIS. Meaning, I could've numbered it five starts, given it the masterpiece feature, but back then I didn't know there were such incredible albums to come after "Nursery Cryme", making GENESIS surpass all the possible expectations they might've set upon their reaches and upon themselves as prominent musicians. This album certainly has been projected as an incentive to so many generations, to so many bands and to so many side genres besides progressive rock. Proudly, an excellent addition to any musical collection.