Steve Hackett

This music speaks the same language as dreams. And I could end the discussion of the third solo album by the legendary Genesis guitarist right there. But dreams can't be summed up in a couple of lines: they need to be explored, penetrated, not always understood - since that would strip them of their allure - but at least discussed.

That this music speaks the same language as dreams is already clear from the cover painting, the work of Steve's muse at the time, Kim Poor, Steve's face transfigured by an oneiric mist that seems to rise up from the depths of the unconscious. "Every Day" moves at the speed of the wind, with searing solos fired off into the stratosphere, plunging us straight into the heart of the record, with Pete Hicks's voice giving voice to what Steve alone couldn't - the right set of pipes, still perfect to this day, to deliver imaginative lyrics that, in true Genesis fashion, elude rather than state, brushing past, launching subliminal flashes. The backing vocals from Hackett himself and bassist Dick Cadbury are luminous arches reaching toward the sky.

The pairing of "The Virgin And The Gypsy" (from the D.H. Lawrence novel of the same name) and "The Red Flower Of Tachai Blooms Everywhere" is a swirl of iridescent arpeggios and fragrant spices; the former still built on majestic vocal work, the latter featuring instruments from other latitudes like the koto, and evoking entry into vast halls lined with burning torches. Hypnagogic hallucinations, the image of George MacDonald - who had already influenced the young Peter Gabriel - "Shadow Fairies" and the "Lilith" triptych, old England, severed heads on the croquet lawn: it's all here again, and it carries on. The apocalypse of "Clocks - The Angel Of Mons", mellotron pouring down like rain, John Shearer's rhythmic patterns descended from the drum duet of "Los Endos", based on the legend according to which the fortunate retreat of the 4,000 soldiers of the British Expeditionary Force - who had rushed to help Belgium and northeastern France but were overwhelmed by 21,000 German soldiers - was only possible thanks to the supernatural intervention of ghostly apparitions. Here, then, are the spectral mornings. Another visionary to be loved unconditionally, Arthur Machen, spread the story, while at the end of side A Steve pokes fun at himself with "The Ballad Of The Decomposing Man (featuring The Office Party)", making use of the bizarre sounds of the Optigan, a sort of optical sampler in which the sounds of various musical instruments were recorded onto celluloide discs.

The record flips over with the triptych "Lost Time In Cordoba"-"Tigermoth"-"Spectral Mornings", a long suite that covers the entire side. The first is one of the peaks of the dream, with classical guitar and John Hackett's flute weaving a transparent web of enchantment, later replaced by a synthesized oboe courtesy of wizard Nick Magnus. Once again we soar over the battlefield, the bass pedals, the taut, symphonic openings with the commanding mellotron choirs and reversed, filtered voices, marching onward! "Tigermoth" is once again a ghost story of war - Steve has always been fascinated by history, near or distant, always like an old book opening up, unearthed who knows in which dark antique shop, its yellowed pages turned by candlelight as rain lashes against the windows. Finally the title track, opening with a fade-in and then straight into wonder, plain and simple, alongside "Firth Of Fifth", the queen of all the melodies Steve has written. A dream within a dream.

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07/02/2026