—  Well, as I type this review, I am listening to Abba's Greatest Hits Vol. 2. I know what you're thinking: since when are Abba prog? Well, for one thing, Abba played an important role in why I give this much-hated album by the three-man line-up of Genesis the five-star rating. The legend says "a masterpiece of Progressive Rock," thus the rating may be unjustified, but this album holds an important place for me. It was, in fact, the start of my Genesis fandom! I hadn't yet heard Selling England By The Pound, but I was in for a surprise when I eventually did, because it sounded nothing like this album. The story begins back in the early 1990's...

When I was in kindergarten or grade 1 (I can't remember which), my dad and I were driving around town and the ultra-cool song "I Can't Dance" (with its childlike chorus, its pulsating rhythms and its surf-flavored keyboards) came on the good old FM radio in our car. My dad told me this song was by Genesis, a group led by Phil Collins. Being five, six or seven at the time, I had no idea who Genesis were. I only did know Phil Collins was a singer and the only thing I ever heard from him was just A FEW notes of No Jacket Required. But I did enjoy the song nonetheless (and what 5-to-7-year-old wouldn't?).

In grade school, the teachers would make us sing along with the usual children's songs like Raffi's "Baby Beluga" or Charlotte Diamond's "Four Hugs A Day" or "I Am A Pizza," and did I enjoy those songs immensely (and what kindergarten or grade 1 to 3 wouldn't?). Well, when I got the fourth grade, and heard "Hells Bells" (the opening track on AC/DC's Back In Black), my love of music had a dramatic change. Hearing the ominous bells (hence the title), the riproaring guitars, the threatening lyrics, and especially Angus Young's gut-wrenching guitar solo, I suddenly felt like I was filled with power, filled with fire and filled with the hatred of anything that only a sissy would like. This thought was confirmed when I got a copy of Nevermind by Nirvana (the one with the baby on the cover) and absolutely ROCKED to "Smells Like Teen Spirit." I knew right there and then that I would never listen to any Raffi again, because I knew that I felt not only too old for that, but that Raffi could beaten in a fight anyday by Bon Scott, Angus Young or Kurt Cobain! In grade 4, the music I LOVED to listen to was HARD ROCK, ALTERNATIVE ROCK and HEAVY METAL!

In the summer of 1996, I took a trip to Kamloops and found some more great CDs in the collection of my older cousins. I made some tapes of them and listened to them during a road trip to Lethbridge. The only I really loved the most was the 1989 eponymous debut album by Skid Row (you know, the group with Sebastian Bach). I just couldn't get enough of the slashing guitar or Sebastian Bach's ear-splitting scream. Man, I never tired of "18 And Life," "Youth Gone Wild" or "I Remember You." When I returned home, I saw an old advertisement of their sophomore album Slave To The Grind. Since I was enjoying the first album so much, I thought it would be so cool not to just own that album, but own a Japanese copy of it. So that same summer, I composed to a letter to one of our friends in Japan, and knowing how much she liked me, I knew she wouldn't mind the slightest to buy me the CD (I did repay her eventually, so stop looking!).

The CD arrived the following month just as I had requested. Along with the package came an envelope from Columbia House (yep, I was a member at that time!). I opened the Columbia House envelope first and looked at their latest catalogue. My mom was very strict on the music I listened to, mainly the lyrical subject matter. I noticed the Slave To The Grind CD was given their equivalent of a "parental advisory" warning in the thing. I had no idea about the lyrics being explicit (they sounded fine on the first album), so I thought, "Oh, they can't be that bad!" So I opened the CD and gazed at the lyrics. Well, I noticed one track on the CD was titled "Get The F*ck Out." One look at the title and you can probably guess what was in store in that track. The lyrics pictured a man who was telling an innocent woman with a "double D" and "40-foot do" to get lost otherwise he'd "beat [her] to a pulp" or kill himself and have his corpse inside her bed. My parents eventually found out about this and eventually it turned into a battle. No matter how much I kicked and screamed and cried, they wouldn't let me keep it (and I tried to every way to reason with them saying I wouldn't even listen to the track!). (Mind you, if we had bought that CD as a domestic one at any retail outlet in the Vancouver area, I would have happilly gotten rid of it, but since it was a Japanese import---and I wasn't as serious a collector at the time---I found it too painful to get rid of.) In November, we eventually settled and I agreed to trade the CD.

At the store we went to, I remembered the pulsating "I Can't Dance" and when I saw a copy of We Can't Dance on the shelf, I knew right away I would get that CD. We only got two dollars of credit for the Skid Row CD since nobody buys them anymore, but I had enough for the CD.

When I got it home, I bought it mainly for that old radio hit. But instead, what I got was one of the most aweing listens ever. (Normally, I write more detailed reviews on the album itself, but since I have a story to tell, I'll just describe the tracks in brief).

"No Son Of Mine" had some great drum machine and shimmering keyboards; "Jesus He Knows Me" was a good energic track that mocked televangelists; "Driving The Last Spike" was a pretty 10-minute track describing the construction of England's railroad system (a track like that could have never appeared on a Phil Collins solo album); "Never A Time" was a touching, almost cathartic track; "Dreaming While You Sleep" was a moving, enigmatic track; "Tell Me Why" was a very bouncy British pop- sounding number; "Living Forever" had the best keyboard solo on the entire album (kudos to you, Tony!); "Hold On My Heart" was a slow promising track with some great guitar fills in which Mike Rutherford sounds like Carlos Santana; "Way Of The World" was a gorgeous, aural track with a great chorus; "Since I Lost You" (written for Eric Clapton's late son) was a slow, sad track with a good guitar solo; "Fading Lights" was a perfect 10-minute album closer in which all the members try to show off their musical skills before wrapping it up forever (this was Phil Collins's last hurrah with Genesis - he quit five years later).

Needless to say, I felt I was sucked into another dimension and almost totally abandoned hard rock and heavy metal all together (but I still love Back In Black and Nevermind). Soon, I started bringing in Genesis albums by the numbers and enjoying almost of them, whether they were telling stories on "Foxtrot" or saying a tearful goodbye on "Invisible Touch."

But wait - THERE'S MORE! Later that year, I discovered Abba! (I first heard them while staying with some relatives in August 1994). But I didn't think they were that good until I saw four albums and actually listened to one of them. I'll never forget rocking to "S.O.S." I knew there that Abba would be next greatest musical discovery. In fact, to make up the Skid Row CD, some friends of ours who went to Japan got me a Japanese copy of the Abba Gold: Greatest Hits CD. And when I listened to it, that evening and I fell for Abba and never looked back! In fact, "Thank You For The Music" is playing on my headphones right now and I know that Abba will live forever in my musical mind.

So that's the story for all you readers. It was this album that made me a Genesis fan forever (in fact, not counting the first, last or live albums, I think my least favorite Genesis album is "Trespass") and I still enjoy the early albums with Peter Gabriel. To this day I refuse to ever buy another Skid Row CD, but just think: if my parents had let me keep that Japanese Skid Row CD, it's not likely I would ever become a fan of Genesis or Abba! Sometimes changes can be for the good.

(Note: I respect everyone's opinions on this site, so I won't diss any of you anti-WCD people. I just wish, however, Genesis didn't make Calling All Stations.)