For years every Sunday morning I would play Seconds Out. For some unknown reason my dad hated this album. It was my small piece of rebellion at being forced to wear real trousers not jeans as we got ready for church. Being only twelve this was the best I could do. Later in life my rebellions got better and more extreme but as a 12 year old singing along to the Carpet Crawlers was the peak of insolence. I think it was the synth solo’s he really hated and that damn flower song.
My precious school army surplus backpack had my name spelled out in the same writing style as Seconds Out, I have to admit that this may be because it was easily replicated with a ruler and a permanent marker for an artistically challenged pre-teen. I remember I had to draw it out first in pencil so I didn’t mess it up, if I had I would have had to continue to wear that backpack regardless as it had been bought and would have to do. Imagine the 12 year olds shame, having the obviously unhip writing style of a progressive rock band on his backpack in the post punk age and then the writing is messed up. Not only is this unhip but it’s badly done unhip, the kids at school would crucify me rather than just heap the usual ridicule on me.
For many years due to the paucity of funds available these were the only versions of the Gabriel era songs I had heard, apart from a French copy of Foxtrot that I had inherited from cousin Tony. As I sit here listening tonight its like sitting down with an old friend. The arrangements are polished and comfortable. The playing is urgent and I have to say I find myself enjoying the version of that damn flower song more than the Gabriel version.
It’s also Sunday and I keep expecting to hear my dad bellowing up the stairs to turn off that damn song about a flower. Instead it is my wife who asks why do we have to listen to this loud music. No wonder some have a designated listening space. I however have the living room, which is strangely comforting as prior to moving out of my parenets my listening was confined to the cramped space of my bedroom. This does mean that when I take a left turn musically the family are forced to go with me, like some deranged road trip with the hitcher in tow.
All this reminiscence is because of Bruce at Vinyl Connection getting all 40 years ago with his 1977 moment. It’s here if you want a good read 1977.
I am however mystified why this album never made the cut or maybe that’s for part 2.