Genesis at the Red Lion - May 1972

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   In the spring of 1972, I started to frequent the Village Blues Club, which met on Saturday nights at the Roundhouse in Dagenham and over the next three years or so I would witness many classic bands playing at this venue. Several of the other Saturday night regulars recommended that I should check out a band called Genesis and as luck would have it, they were booked to play the Chez Club, above the Red Lion pub in Leytonstone, East London. This was a local gig for me, having been a born and bred in the East End so, on a Friday evening in May, my younger sister, Dyl and I met up with Trevor Tinker and Pete Cornell, who were two seasoned Genesis freaks by now and we trekked across Wanstead Flats and arrived early outside the Red Lion. 

As we were waiting a van pulled up and several of the group and a couple of roadies got out, instantly recognised by Trev and Pete. The only entrance to the Chez Club was up a steep staircase that led to the room over the pub and the band asked if we'd help them get the gear upstairs, so the roadies could set it up. It proved relatively easy to get the various parts of the drummer Phil's kit and even the amps upstairs but when it came to keyboardist Tony's beast of a mellotron, it proved more difficult! Unfortunately Trev's grip on the 'mellie' wasn't too secure and Pete couldn't take the weight at the top end so it slid and clattered to the bottom of the stairs! Eventually we made it and left the band and roadies to get it all set up, while we resumed our place at the head of an ever-lengthening queue. The entry charge was 50p, a real bargain and the atmosphere at the Chez was always really good. I had never knowingly heard a note of Genesis music as yet - my favourite band at the time was King Crimson, who were going through one of their frequent break-up periods in the early half of '72, but would rise to great heights again later in the year with a new line-up. 

The ambience started to build with the aid of a dose of Crimso over the PA and then a folk-flavoured acoustic band called Cottonwood played a support slot. As the main event of the evening drew near, the lights dimmed and the band took the stage. The affable drummer Phil shouted "Alright?" at us, to a big cheer as the bespectacled guitar player, Steve, sat stage left, looking very studious. Behind him, the similarly seated bass player, Mike, brandished a sunburst Rickenbacker and gingerly tested out his bass pedals and keyboardist, Tony, positioned himself behind his selection of Hammond organ, electric piano and that imposing mellotron. The lead singer, Peter, sporting eye make-up and a figure-hugging, black get-up stood behind a lone bass drum and cast his gaze out into the audience as huge mellotron chords underpinned by throbbing bass pedals vibrated the air molecules of that small room and instantly galvanized the crowd. I later learned that this was their new set opener, Watcher Of The Skies, as yet unrecorded. I could hear the Crimson influence in their music and watched with fascination as Peter Gabriel illustrated the sci-fi elements of the lyrics with deft motions of his arms and facial expression. The great thing about a pub gig was that you could get right up close to the band's and this performance drew the audience under its spell as the magnificent spread of mellotron chords returned on the coda, punched home by the dynamics of the amazing rhythm section combination of Phil Collins and Mike Rutherford. Thank goodness the mellotron was still working after the earlier mishap! 

It was hard to take in all this new music at one time but each composition proved completely engaging and the band played a selection from their last album Nursery Cryme and we were treated to renditions of the astounding sequence known as The Musical Box, a dark tale that expressed the frustration and sexual desires housed in an exponentially aging body, a strange subject for young men in their early twenties to even contemplate, let alone write about with such alacrity as the music drove home this haunting tale to perfection, with incredible dynamics and ensemble playing by the whole group. Another highlight was The Fountain Of Salmacis, the tight, symphonic structure of which was overwhelming in a room so small, as the bass pedals almost lifted you from the floor with their reverberation while the organ and mellotron played at the same time by Tony Banks, painted mental pictures of fountains and nymphs. My ear was also caught by the incisive contributions of guitarist, Steve Hackett, who used any kind of sound he could genrate from his guitar to illustrate these fantastical tales. Peter Gabriel would later employ masks and props in his quest to bring the lyrics to life but at this stage Genesis needed none of these aids as the man behind the bass drum managed just as well without excessive theatrics to draw us into the stories. 

Gabriel linked the songs with narrated stories of dark humour and he was becoming much loved by an audience that was at this stage growing mainly by word of mouth. Genesis had just released a new single and we were treated to a rare performance of Happy The Man, with Phil coming out from behind his kit to join Pete at the front of the stage as they sang together, Phil whacking a tambourine along with it - a memory very strong in my mind, even now. The odd tale of Harold The Barrel was also played, along with Stagnation, a post-holocaust scenario from their Trespass album, which saw Mike and Tony swap to 12-string guitars at one point and Peter using his flute on the elegant, climactic coda. Another unreleased track called Twilight Alehouse ended with some wonderful use of the varispeed on the mellotron, souding quite seasick as it swooped through several glissandi while Steve Hackett's guitar blazed with a savagery that seemed at odds with this quiet, studious fellow! 

All wonderful stuff and when the band returned for an encore, the guitarists were now standing as they ripped into a blistering rendition of The Knife, the standout track from the Trespass album, Peter giving a scarily violent reading of the war-mongering lyrics, using his mike stand as a machine-gun at one point while the band matched the martial atmosphere with their playing, indeed to such a degree that even a peace loving man like myself almost felt capable of stormtrooping out in the cause of the revolution, had Gabriel so commanded his faithful army of followers! It was powerful stuff, let's leave it at that. I left the gig that evening as a confirmed Genesis fan and the memory of how good they were in the early seventies will always remain with me. If you were too young to see them then - you definitely missed out on something very special.