The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway, 50 Years Later

The Spinal Tap writers wish they came up with Genesis circa 1974.

Peter Gabriel: lead vocals, flute, principle songwriter

Steve Hackett: guitar

Tony Banks: keys, synths

Mike Rutherford: bass, 12-string guitar

Phil Collins: drums, backing vocals

Special guest: Brian Eno; “Enossification” (effects on “In The Cage” and “The Grand Parade of Lifeless Packaging”

Produced by John Burns with Genesis

Author’s Note: This post corresponds to the Lamb Lies Down on Broadway anniversary episode of Vinyl Monday, originally posted 11/18/2024. Save for audio/editing jokes that cannot be included in a text format, this is a faithful adaptation of the review chapter. To watch the full episode, scroll to the bottom of this post or visit my YouTube channel here.

If there were any one term to describe the making of The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway, it would be “right album, wrong timing.”

The Lamb was conceived sometime between ending the Selling England By The Pound tour in New York and Peter Gabriel’s first viewing of Alexandro Jorodowsky’s El Topo. It was a big, bright, ballsy idea...but he might have been the wrong worker to have it. Peter insisted upon writing all the lyrics while the rest worked out the music. But according to Phil Collins, “Peter does not work fast, in the best of words.” (via John Edginton Documentaries on YouTube, 5/2/2024) Four guys could write music an awful lot faster than one guy could write lyrics; which left Peter with a spectacular backlog of music to finish. He’d be playing catch-up until weeks before the holiday deadline. Genesis had the right place to work: pretty, pastoral, famed Headley Grange. But they were about three years too late. Sometime since Zeppelin’s fabled stay, a colony of rats had taken up residence. It was the exact wrong time for Peter to be first at Headley Grange, then Wales: he was about to become a father, and his wife’s pregnancy had complications. It wasn’t a good time for Steve Hackett either; him and his wife separated as soon as their son was born. Before they knew it, they were under a time crunch that would rival Pink Floyd’s to finish The Wall and half the time to work.

With just a weekend before tour was set to begin (with a sold-out gig at the Wembley Empire Pool, no less) Steve severely injured his hand. There simply wasn’t the time to teach a replacement 94 minutes of music plus stage cues. Genesis were forced to postpone the entire European leg of tour until April of the next year. The tour was ostentatious, with constantly-malfunctioning screens and costume changes galore. It was a grand undertaking, executed as well as possible. But for reasons unknown, the stage show was never professionally filmed. It might have had something to do with a projected Gabriel/Jorodowsky film adaptation of The Lamb…let us all be grateful that never happened. Though the tour sold well, it bled money.

When The Lamb did come, it was met with changing tides. Through the mid-1970s, a number of circumstances put prog thoroughly out of fashion. Audiences viewed these groups as “out of touch,” part of the establishment. Peter Gabriel’s wife was the daughter of a baron, who happened to be secretary to the Queen. There’s few things more Establishment than that! Pink Floyd were the only exception to the Prog Is Dead rule. They released one of the biggest albums of all time the year before Lamb, and would release their best album the year after. Robert Fripp’s just broken up King Crimson to avoid taking Red on a world tour...and to figure his shit out. Rick Wakeman’s left Yes, their future is unclear. Emerson, Lake & Palmer did well with Brain Salad Surgery but were on hiatus because of tax trouble.

When you take all this into account, something as outlandish as The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway with so few of its Mellotron-playing, cape-wearing peers surrounding it, was seen as prog jumping the shark.

Just as punk killed Pink Floyd, Genesis killed prog.

Instead of a track-by-track breakdown – there is just too much music for that today – to best address The Lamb, I’m using my condensed format. I’ll talk about what I like, what I dislike, and use specific tracks to flesh out those points where applicable.

First I have to get a bias out of the way: the context of the ’80s. The 1980s don’t come up much on Vinyl Monday. By then, a lot of the artists I focus on had either disbanded, gotten involved in other lesser projects, gotten themselves whacked out on drugs beyond repair, or died. Then you have Peter Gabriel and Phil Collins. Their solo careers were arguably bigger than Genesis ever was!

For my first few listens of Lamb, all I heard was the Peter Gabriel of So and "Solsbury Hill." It took some serious effort for me to unravel that context from this one. I don’t even really consider Genesis-era Peter Gabriel the same guy as ’80s Peter Gabriel. That’s Peter Gabriel. This is some other guy prancing around in face paint!

Where does The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway succeed? Generally speaking, the first half of this album is great! Musically, I really dig what sides one and two have to offer.

The title track one of the weakest of this first half of Lamb. It’s a shame, seeing as title track is supposed to be the thesis statement of the album. In a truly strange turn, we do not hear of the titular lamb after this song. It seems Peter felt funny about this too:

“...the lamb isn’t a symbol, so I was a bit worried about the title. He’s a catalyst for peculiarities that take place. The result is experiences Rael wouldn’t be expected to go through because he’s the least likely person to fall into all this pansy claptrap.”

(Max Bell, “Gabriel’s Cosmic Juice (Not to be taken internally)” NME, 3/15/1975)

Luckily, things kick into gear with Fly On A Windshield. It’s remarkable how early in the process this song took shape. Genesis recorded nearly 7 hours of tape at Headley Grange, and “Fly” remains virtually unchanged.

This is one of those cases on the record when the music exactly conveys the image it wants to. What I think is Mike’s Rickenbacker combined with the vocal effect on Tony’s Mellotron feel organic but not; like a metal Greek chorus. Some odd, minimal chords hoist us in the sky before the second half of the song just slams into us. I’ve never heard a Mellotron played in such a way to feel like trudging through mud, but it does. Phil’s bombastic entrance and Steve’s airy solo pile-drive “Fly” through. The dialogue between Tony, Phil, and Steve are the best and most exciting part of this song and Broadway Melody of 1974.

The shining star of side one is In The Cage. It does a similar thing to “Fly” with its breakdown in the middle. The antsy spiraling keys and constant stop-start motion of the drums underneath Peter’s extended “get me out of the caaaaage” feel like trying to stop a speeding train. What a fantastic sense of urgency! We really feel the distress Rael does trapped in this dark cave. We don’t just hear “Shut me up, lock me tight, lips are dry, throat is dry/Feel like burning, stomach churning,” We’re along for the ride too. Through passages like these, I’m astonished by Phil’s ability to ride these time changes like it’s no big deal.

The Lamb’s lyrics are dense with images we’ve been dissecting for decades. They create a swirling, Dali-esque world the listener stumbles through alongside Rael. It can be too lofty for me at times – I get the feeling Peter was slamming whatever words he could think of together in order to finish the album. But every once in a while, a line will jump out and smack you in the face. Consider The Chamber of 32 Doors: “Like everyone else, they’re pointing, but nowhere feels quite right” Bizzare as Lamb is, it’s got necessary human moments. Even within obscure-ass images of Howard Hughes in blue suede shoes, cyanide and peach blossom, stalactites and stalagmites, and shaving hearts, Genesis had an uncanny ability to craft melodies. You’d never think Lambwould have a drop of pop sensibility, but every once in a while, it does! These past couple weeks I’ve woken up with something new stuck in my head, even from the songs I don’t necessarily love. (Looking at you, drunk-ass kazoo break in Counting Out Time.)

Back In NYC is an all-star moment for both Tony and Peter. If my love for the Doors is any indication, I seriously appreciate when the keys fill the spot a guitar riff or solo would. I love this treatment on Peter’s voice; part-production, part-recording in the barn at Glaspent Manor. This reverb suits his ragged delivery. It gives him the space to wail and scream – two things I never thought I’d describe Peter Gabriel doing. Never underestimate a white person’s ability to get down to Peter Gabriel! Mike gets creative with his bassline, keeps motion under the song as the drama unfolds above.

And then there’s Carpet Crawlers. Dirty joke aside, this song is genuinely stunning. It’s one of the lightest tracks instrumentally, with twinkling keys and a soft glow like a TV screen. It slowly builds, pulsing, until Phil’s entrance. He drives the back half with a stunted urgence. Peter’s subdued, whispering delivery is contrasted with anthemic group backing vocals. We don’t hear of the lamb again, but we do hear of the fleece. The golden fleece, from Greek mythology. Amidst all this obscure imagery of salamanders bursting into flames (don’t think I missed that Medieval art reference) and mild-mannered Supermen held in Kryptonite lie maybe the most real, tangible words of the whole 94 minutes: “We’ve gotta get in to get out.”

For the carpet crawlers, this is the mantra of their trance state; hypnotized by whatever unobtainable thing beckons them. For Rael – and for us – it means that in order to get back to the light, you’ve got to endure the dark. Hearing that line for the first time bowled me over. I was caught completely off-guard, left staring into the cold dark night. It’s worth noting I started listening to Lamb the day after election day. “We’ve gotta get in to get out.” Within the hellish chaos of Lamb, “Carpet Crawlers” is refuge. “Back In NYC” and this are the breadth of the amazing performance Peter gave on this record. He remains an underrated vocal talent.

I was also very pleased with Brian Eno’s contributions. They are few and far between, but they are more than welcome. You always know exactly when Eno pops up! He happened to be in Island Studios working on Taking Tiger Mountain By Strategy at the same Genesis were pulling all-nighters trying to mix Lamb. Phil recalls:

“I’d be mixing and dubbing all night and then Tony and Mike would come in and remix what I’d done because I’d lost all sense of normality by that point.”

(Kevin Holm-Hudson, “Genesis and The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway” 2008)

In exchange for Phil playing on “Mother Whale Eyeless,” Eno brought the atmosphere, making “In The Cage” feel appropriately cold. He injects kitchy, wacky vocal effects into “Lifeless Packaging;” it’s one of the few goofy moments on Lamb that actually works. While I believe his work influenced Lamb’s sound, I truly wish we got more of him on this record. He would’ve given this some intriguing sonic unfamiliarity; that which would’ve bolstered the surreal, bizarre story.

Where does The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway fail?

The rock opera is really hard to get right. You need a double album to do it. Double albums are hard to assemble and pace as-is. Even the greatest of all time have a few duds to fill the space on the record. Then you throw a whole narrative with characters, themes, and leitmotifs in there? Good fucking luck! The Who’s Tommy runs into problems with pacing. The second act is too short and there’s too many ideas going on. Are we following a disabled boy’s journey to self-actualization, or are we following a pinball cult? Pete Townsend needed somebody with a red pen.

Then we have The Lamb: the opposite problem of Tommy! The second act is too long. It’s got nice moments, Silent Sorrows On Empty Boats is very pretty. Light cymbal washes and keys sparkle in dim light, swirling around one of the better Mellotron choruses in prog history. Lamb regains its bearings partway through side four. “The Light Dies Down On Broadway”/“Riding The Scree”/“In The Rapids”/“It” have good contrast of rock and electronic, atmospheric and full sounds.

But from “Waiting Room” through the raven stealing Rael’s dick, The Lamb goes off the fucking rails.

It tests my patience! And it’s evident of Genesis’s time crunch. It’s like when a writer knows how their book begins and ends, but hasn’t worked out the middle. I think we can all agree Genesis should’ve put Lamb on hold until after Peter’s daughter was born and after Steve’s divorce was finalized. Then, everyone would’ve been settled in enough to hunker down for 3 months. Maybe the second act wouldn’t have been as underbaked as it is.

As for the plot. Lamb follows one arc; our Perseus’s journey through the labyrinth. That’s more than Tommy can say with the cult stuff shoved in. Given the plot of Lamb is so obscure, open, and outlandish, it might be too much for the music to bear the weight of.

I, as the listener, sometimes struggle to visualize the story it tells. You can see Mrs. Walker break the mirror in your mind’s eye. You can see Pink building the wall. But I have a hard time picturing how Rael makes it from New York to the cave. Why else is it hard to follow? There are no leitmotifs! Aside from the “Lamb Lies Down” reprise, there are no repeated lines or musical nuggets to associate Rael with. He’s obscured, both in this story and in the music. Our hero is particularly removed from the narrative – not unlike on the album cover. Lamb’s surrealism is such a double-edged sword. Where I struggle in some spots, I do find merit in how open to interpretation the story is. Is it Christian allegory? Is it a metaphor for the cycle of life? Is it a young man’s journey to discovering his sexuality or – hear me out on this one – his gender identity? Lamb can apply to so many different life experiences. Its openness is beautiful. It is some of the best poppy music on the album, even if the last line kinda ruins it for me. “Cause it's only knock and know all, but I like it?" Really? I appreciate Lamb’s open ending though. I personally think Rael dies at the end; the lights only go down on Broadway when a significant performer or director dies. But his fate is totally up to the listener.

The weight of this grand story makes some of Lamb’s music stick out for the wrong reasons. The jokes don’t quite land; see “Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head” snuck into “In The Cage.” Filler is fine for a live setting. It gave Peter time to change into his nightmare fuel Slipperman costume, and actually made the 2ndhalf of the record stronger live. But given how I consumed Lamb – on record, 50 years later – those passages make great music feel tedious. Around Colony of Slippermen, I look at the jacket and go, “Seriously? There are 6more songs after this?”

Point blank, this album is too fucking long. It clocks in at 94 minutes. Sonic Youth’s Daydream Nation is a double album and it’s 20 minutes shorter than Lamb. The Wall, another double album rock opera, is 80 minutes. Lamb makes good music collapse under the weight of a story that would’ve been so much better developed had Genesis given themselves the time.

So what have we learned today? If you’re writing a rock opera...get a second opinion. Somebody with a red pen. Preferably Bob Ezrin.

And you can’t rush greatness. For the life of me, I can’t find exactly why Genesis were under such a short deadline. Was it because they put the cart before the horse and booked a tour before they were ready? Was it because they wanted holiday season album sales? Who knows. From an outside perspective, Lamb’s time crunch seems completely preventable and kind of a shame. Once again: right idea, wrong timing.

As much as I’ve bemoaned the lost potential of this album, I have to remind you that Lamb wasn’t a “Pete Townsend getting attached to Tommy and derailing the timeline” thing. This lost potential was driven by outside circumstances. While the weakest points of Lamb stem from its fate, the very best things are found in the work itself. You can’t always say that about a multimedia rock opera experience. Zany as it is, this album is one of the most inspired albums I’ve ever had on this series. El Topo. The Pilgrim’s Progress. Christianity, ancient Greek mythology. Jungian dream analysis. The coked-out writings of Sigmund Freud. Even hints of Dante’s Inferno. This thing is so radically inspired, it creates a mythology of its own. The writing reflects that; you feel like you’re stumbling through a dream. Images shift around you against your will. It’s disorienting. I’m a sucker for surrealism – that was the kind of art I made. When I’m able to surrender myself to the world of The Lamb, I find it challenges my imagination like no other. While some points were elongated more than they maybe should’ve been, there’s some really great music in here. This isn’t so much a unified Genesis as it is Peter Gabriel and Everyone Else. But after covering The Wall, Tommy, and this in a 13-month span, I’ve learned that’s just a pitfall of the rock opera. At the end of the day, these are great players illustrating a daring and radical story.

Pictured: Salvador Dali, Christ of St. John of The Cross (oil on canvas, 1951)

Robert Fripp said something along the lines of, “If prog wants to survive, it can’t keep pretending it’s 1969.” For better or for worse, Lamb does try to envision a brave new future. If you’re looking for a project that exemplifies all the best and worst things about the rock opera format, here it is. The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway is Dali’s Christ with a slash through it; scarred by reality.

Personal favorites: “Fly on a Windshield,” “Broadway Melody of 1974,” “In The Cage,” “Back In NYC,” “Carpet Crawlers," "It"

– AD ☆

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