Peter Gabriel

After Security, Peter Gabriel began the first of a series of long hiatuses (hiati?) between albums. It was a full four years before his next studio album So was released (the soundtrack to Birdy was released in the interim, but that consists mostly of slightly rearranged pieces from his back catalog, so I don’t really count that as an album). At the time, a friend commented that they thought So actually stood for Sell Out, and it was easily his most accessible and publicly successful album, but it was far from a sell out. His interest and enthusiasm for rhythm and ethnic instrumentation continued on So, but was much more internalized and subtle than it had been on Security. Although So is mostly remembered for his biggest hits (and most popular videos) Sledgehammer and Big Time, it’s also home to the thundering drums of Red Rain, the heartbreaking beauty of Mercy Street, and the soaring glorious In Your Eyes.

Another three years of silence had Peter working hard on setting up Real World, a label and studio complex dedicated to the cross-pollination of the world’s musical cultures amidst a warm and inviting atmosphere of mutual admiration and respect. Real World represents the absolute pinnacle of Peter’s commitment to building a global community. It is nothing less than a utopian model for how societies must put their differences aside and come together in respect and blend their cultures and ideologies to form a new, vital world culture. Some people fear that their individual identities – that peculiar mix of culture and history that makes each person and each society what it is – will get lost in such a blending of cultures, and that the rich variety of traditions that makes the world the vibrant, colorful place that it is will turn into a bland, beige McSoup, with no flavor, no color, no past, and, therefore, no future. But Real World proves that it’s possible to unite different idioms and structures together in such a way that the synergistic end result still retains the individual flavors that went into its creation. Instead of a melting pot, the metaphor of choice is that of a mosaic – each bright tile retaining all of its individual color and fire, but contributing to a beautiful picture that’s only possible through the collective and carefully controlled contributions of many different tiles.

Peter Gabriel launched the ambitious Real World experiment by releasing Passion, his reworked soundtrack for Martin Scorcese’s controversial film, The Last Temptation of Christ. Passion is Gabriel’s most beautiful and profound album. On it, he assembled some of the best musicians in the world and carefully crafted a searing spiritual soundscape that goes far beyond merely supporting Scorcese’s images. It is a sonic temple, an aural testament to the deeply satisfying and redemptive powers of faith of all kinds. The spirituality that has fluttered around the edges of Gabriel’s solo work takes center stage here, but it is spirituality without dogma. It is inclusive. It is us. Significantly, Gabriel, a man first known to the world as the vocalist for Genesis, doesn’t sing a single word on this album. There are lots of vocals on the album, by him and others, but they are all wordless vocals – soaring, grunting, wailing voices of pleasure and pain. The effect is that the music is universal in appeal – by not singling out one language or one story or one musical idiom, it invites everybody along. The album weaves many different strands together, sounding alternately European, African, Middle Eastern, and Asian. It is the soundtrack for a world religion, musical manna for the masses – both high and low. It is also that rarest of achievements, it is a perfect album.

Three years later saw the release of the highly anticipated Us, a return to the path he was following with So. After the shining pinnacle of Passion, Us was a bit of a let down. It’s still a wonderful album, but this time it’s much more personal than universal. It deals with the issues in Peter’s own life, but, like any good artist, he’s able to tell the personal in such a way that it’s recognizable to everybody. There are some beautifully heartbreaking moments on the album, especially the somber, melancholy Washing of the Water.

Peter Gabriel has a wide range of musical interests and abilities, but one of his strongest skills, and one that is rarely acknowledged, is his facility with heartbreaking ballads. A good ballad is hard to write, too easily tipping into the maudlin, but Gabriel handles the emotions carefully, and some of his most stirring work is some of his quietest. The Washing of the Water is one of those tracks. Quietly confessional, achingly lonely, you can hear the resignation sinking into Peter’s fragile voice. Another such track – one of his most haunting – is buried on his next (sort of) album, Ovo.