Mario Giammetti

Born in Naples but adopted by Benevento, Mario Giammetti has established himself over the years as one of the foremost experts on the world of Genesis, one of the most beloved bands in progressive rock. Besides publishing around fifteen books on the English band, Giammetti has, since 1991, devoted himself to the fanzine Dusk, which he still runs with great passion and professionalism. We got in touch with him to find out more about his experience as a fan, a journalist, and about his boundless love for the band responsible for some of the most unforgettable albums of a legendary era of the music we all love so much.

Dear Mario, you're among the world's foremost experts on Genesis, one of the most beloved of all prog bands. How did your passion for the English band come about?

Actually, I really discovered them quite late, in 1978. It was around the time Steve Hackett had just left, and the surviving trio released "And Then There Were Three". I know that for many people, at least here in Italy, this might sound blasphemous, but that record literally made me jump out of my chair. I'd loved music since I was a kid, but with that album I found myself completely at home musically - it captivated me unconditionally. Before that, back in 1973, I'd heard the edited version of "Watcher Of The Skies" on a jukebox in Silvi Marina, in Abruzzo, thanks to the 100 lire invested by an older kid from Alessandria. The atmosphere had struck me, but I didn't get the chance to look into it further. As a kid, there was never much money in my pocket, so you had to make do.

You've written around fifteen books dedicated to Genesis. Which was the first one? Which one are you most attached to? And which one cost you the most effort?

The first was “Genesis Story”, from 1988. By then I'd been following the band for about ten years. I'd tracked down all the solo discographies and, of course, I already had Armando Gallo's wonderful biography. But I thought Genesis also deserved a critical guide, and even though I had no experience whatsoever, I put together a first manuscript and sent it to the two main publishing houses of the time – if not the only two. It was my father who told me someone from Gammalibri/Kaos had called. I called back the next day and, after a short phone conversation, I got down to work and rewrote the whole thing in the final months of 1987. I set off for Milan in April 1988 to go over the proofs with the head of the publishing house, Domenico. And my book came out in June of that same year.

I'm attached to all my books because each one tells a story. The one on Peter Gabriel, for instance (“Il trasformista”, Arcana), only came out in 1999 because the birth of my son in 1995 caused a considerable delay (something quite unusual for me, since I'm normally someone who always sticks to deadlines).

The ‘Genesis Files’ series, an idea from the late Piero Mantero, the boss of Edizioni Segno, is instead a unique undertaking anywhere in the world: one volume per member of Genesis, each marked with a letter on the spine, so that once all seven are lined up on a bookshelf, they spell out the band logo used for the “Duke” album. Seeing it through to completion, even though it took 11 years (from 2005 to 2016), is a great source of pride for me.

In terms of quality, though, I think the best ones are “Musical Box – Le canzoni dei Genesis dalla A alla Z” (Arcana, 2010) and “Genesis – Gli anni prog” (Giunti, 2013). In the first, I go through every song in the band's history in alphabetical order, with great historical, critical, anecdotal and statistical detail, for a total of over 500 pages. In the second, I focus solely on the period most beloved in Italy, the one with Peter Gabriel as singer. What makes this book distinctive (besides the gorgeous design, in keeping with the Florentine publisher's tradition) is that, essentially, it's Genesis themselves telling the story of the six albums from 1969 to '74 – my job was simply to put their scattered thoughts in order. I had the chance to listen to those records side by side with some of them (Phillips, Hackett and Banks), and the book is made up entirely of interviews given to me and the English journalist Mike Kaufmann (some of which ended up in the videos included with the 2008 reissues). So every statement by Genesis used in “Gli anni prog” is 100% previously unpublished.

My writing journey with Genesis took a turning point with the new decade, though. In May 2020, unfortunately just as the pandemic had exploded across the world, I fulfilled my biggest dream: seeing my work published in English. Writing about a band as English to the core as Genesis, and having the nerve to release a book in their own language through a London publisher, was in theory a bet lost from the start. Indeed, I'd been trying for some time, but I'd always found the doors closed.

With the Kingmaker publishing house (founded by Big Big Train leader Gregory Spawton and British journalist Nick Shilton), though, the spark caught immediately: “Genesis 1967 to 1975 – The Peter Gabriel Years” (the English-language version of “Gli anni Prog”, the book Giunti had published in 2013) was met with huge interest worldwide, so much so that it had to be reprinted (with minor updates) twice more. That same year, with another Italian publisher, Il Castello, we published “Genesis – Tutti gli album, tutte le canzoni”, a large-format book of great graphic quality, printed entirely in colour on glossy coated paper with a thick cardboard slipcover. Then, in 2021, Kingmaker published my second book in English, “Genesis 1975 to 2021 – The Phil Collins Years”, an updated edition of which (after a general revision) is coming out on 17 April, bringing the story up to the present day, with an adapted subtitle (“Genesis 1975 to 2025”). The curious thing about this book is that, to this day, it has only ever come out in English.

Having also dedicated a volume to each member of the band, could you try to sum up, in a few words, each of their personalities?

I think their musical personalities are well known – suffice it to say that Genesis are, in the whole history of rock, by far the most cohesive band in terms of songwriting. On that level, no other band can rival them. Even the Beatles and the Stones had members who counted for little or nothing creatively, even while contributing instrumentally; in Genesis, everyone was always involved 100%, so much so that, as I've always said, there was never a single, absolute leader, appearances notwithstanding. Which obviously translated into substantial solo careers for all of them.

Their personalities as people are just as interesting, and it would take too much space to go into real depth. In short, the four founding members retain that typically English, fairly closed-off nature that comes from an extremely strict education at a severe Surrey boarding school. Tony Banks and Mike Rutherford remain, to this day, two country gentlemen, light years away from the typical excesses of rockstars (although the latter has confessed to a few minor sins in his autobiography). Peter's path was obviously different given his role as frontman, yet even now, face to face, he's a shy, introverted man who clearly had to push his personality for the sake of his art.

The most singular of them all is Anthony Phillips: even though his artistic trajectory (he left Genesis because of stage fright) might suggest a brooding type, in reality, of the four former Charterhouse pupils, he's by far the most outgoing – an incredibly funny, ironic person, but also extremely sensitive.

Steve Hackett and Phil Collins come from less aristocratic backgrounds, so at first glance they're definitely more down-to-earth. Especially the drummer, whose cheerful, outgoing character played a decisive role in keeping the precarious early Genesis ship afloat. Of course, with the enormous fame he achieved and, above all, the various personal setbacks (both family and health issues), today's Phil is very different. Steve is a dreamer who lives for music, but also a lovely person, very generous and always ready to get involved in anything for the love of art. Finally, the least celebrated of them all, Ray Wilson, Scottish by birth, German by adoption, Polish by residence. Much younger than the others and coming from a working-class background, Ray was nonetheless shaped, in terms of personality, by his all-too-brief spell in Genesis (and above all by the ungenerous treatment he received), which for a while sent him into depression.

In 1991, you founded the fanzine Dusk, dedicated to the world of Genesis and still active today. How did you put it together back then? Where did you get the information you needed?

From newspapers and magazines. There was nothing else. I also had a subscription to Melody Maker, the legendary British weekly. But I have to say I managed, quite early on, to build contacts with some Genesis members or their management, which helped a lot.

How has Dusk changed over the years?

What has changed the most is the practical side of things. The internet was obviously a revolution, allowing contributors, for instance, to write on their own computers and send me articles by e-mail (up to a certain point, I had to copy them all out by hand, one by one!). At the same time, a lot of photos started arriving straight from the web, or at least already digitized, which made the whole production process much easier. The web also, of course, made it easier to get in touch with musicians and figures connected to the Genesis world: it used to take incredibly long and complicated research, whereas today you can find (not always, mind you) an official website or a Facebook profile to send your request to. Apart from that, things haven't really changed all that much. You have to bear in mind that Dusk was born in 1991, a full three years after I started writing for Ciao 2001. So I never behaved like a fanatic, but rather like a journalist on loan to the world of fanzines, and that's not a minor difference: I've always written my articles with a critical, rigorous approach, and the only concession to fanzine status has been on space, in the sense that I never let myself be constrained by the (however understandable) size limits that any magazine sold on newsstands has to deal with. We've always given records and gigs exactly the space they needed, regardless of how many pages that meant filling. Over time, naturally, thanks partly to ever more advanced technology and partly to the skills built up by most of the fantastic contributors we have, the quality has kept improving further. Dusk has been a magazine in every sense of the word since 2007, officially registered with the court and with an editor-in-chief (me, a member of the professional journalists' register since 1993), and I can say with complete honesty that we have nothing to envy in most of the magazines sold on newsstands (if anything, sometimes it's the other way around).

When did you first see Genesis live? And the last time?

On September 7, 1982, at the Palaeur in Rome. Genesis hadn't played in Italy for a full seven years, since the days of “The Lamb…”, when I didn't even know them and was, in any case, too young. When the lights went down and I saw those figures walk out on stage, I felt a huge rush of emotion, as you can imagine. But I'd prepared well: the year before, in 1981, I had seen a wonderful Steve Hackett concert, again in Rome, at Castel Sant'Angelo, and in 1980 an even better Peter Gabriel concert at the Cascine in Florence, with Simple Minds opening. I decided right away that I wouldn't go to Genesis's farewell tour, for at least three reasons: the first was health-related (I found it more than a little unsettling, when the tour kicked off in September 2021, to see, in the videos, English arenas packed shoulder to shoulder with fans, none of them wearing masks); the second was financial (ticket prices had spiralled completely out of control, on top of which you'd obviously have to add hotel and travel costs abroad, since there were no dates in Italy); the third, and ultimately the most important, was artistic: I had seen Collins's last solo concert in Italy, in Milan in June 2019, so I already knew what to expect. Watching footage of the last Genesis shows on YouTube afterwards, I found the situation was actually even worse than I'd feared, with an artist who was not only unable to get up from his chair, but whose voice had also been seriously affected, in stark, jarring contrast to the towering singer Phil once was. I've always been very critical of the band's reunions (in my view the only real missteps in their entire career), but that last one was truly, endlessly sad, and the only explanation I can find is that it was probably Phil who desperately needed it, happy in the meantime to give his young son Nic, hired as drummer, a chance of his own. So my last time seeing Genesis was the famous Telecom-sponsored Concertone in Rome in July 2007, though after the first song I fled the absurdly overcrowded press stand and went to stand on the lawn instead (a madhouse all the same). Luckily for me, I'd been able to watch the dress rehearsal in Brussels from the third row the previous June, an invitation-only event limited to just 300 people.

On April 19, 1972, as part of the Nursery Cryme tour, Genesis also played Naples, specifically at the Teatro Mediterraneo inside the Mostra d'Oltremare. They stayed at the Hotel Domitiana, on whose rooftop the band found the inspiration to write “Watcher Of The Skies”, one of their most famous songs. There's even a bootleg or two of that concert, though admittedly not of the highest quality. Based on the accounts and information you've gathered over the years, what kind of show was it? Do you happen to know if the band enjoyed Naples? Any anecdotes?

The memory of the lucky few who attended the 1972 concert you mention, and even more so the 1974 show at the Palasport (when the band was touring “Selling England By The Pound” and Gabriel had already turned into an extraordinary frontman), is still remarkably vivid and surrounded by a more-than-justified aura of legend. When you're on tour, there's not much time to see the cities you visit, and keep in mind that on that particular day in Naples there were actually two shows, one in the afternoon and one in the evening. The funniest episode connected to that date was the band's visit to the Edenlandia amusement park, which was right next to the Mostra d'Oltremare. In particular, the members of Genesis were accompanied on the rides by two very young Neapolitans, one of whom was fifteen-year-old Massimo Fargnoli, today a highly respected professional and musician in classical circles, who has told more than once how thrilling it was to share those moments with his idols, and in particular how Peter Gabriel, perhaps the most sociable of the five, would duck his head, apparently frightened, every time a witch brandishing a broomstick popped up on the ride through the Haunted House.

My favorite Genesis album is “The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway”, which at the time was taken on tour with a huge, elaborate production. It's a shame nobody bothered to put together a visual document worthy of the name. There's a video circulating on YouTube, put together by some fans using footage and photos from the era, but you have to make do with that! How do you rate this work within their discography? Let's not forget: it was also the last album before Peter Gabriel's departure…

“The Lamb…” is certainly a seminal album in the whole history of rock, not least because it's unique, in sound and content, even within Genesis's own trajectory. It's never been entirely clear why it was never filmed professionally. Some say it came down to a decision by Gabriel, who had conceived the story and laid down the show's basic concept, but I'm more inclined to think that, instead, the band (which was, moreover, going through a period of intense internal tension that would soon after lead to the singer's departure) simply didn't have the money to commission something like that. Real fame, as we know, would only come later. Even though many fans consider it, on the whole, not on a par with the three albums that preceded it, “The Lamb…” is exactly the album Genesis needed to prove they had something extra compared to many of their peers. And the main credit for that has to go to Gabriel, who was absolutely determined to bring about a change that, by that point, was necessary in order not to stay boxed into a formula, however thrilling that formula was. Precisely because Peter left the band right after the tour, that album remains a thing apart, and consequently, truly unique.

What are your three favorite Genesis albums, and why?

I believe the 1971-'73 trilogy (“Nursery Cryme”/ “Foxtrot”/ “Selling England By The Pound“) is the quintessence of the very best English progressive rock, so those are probably the best three. Having said that about “The Lamb…”, I personally love “Trespass” just as much, a pastoral, bucolic album, with forays into folk and those incredible 12-string guitars, an invention of Anthony Phillips working hand in hand with Mike Rutherford. And of course the first two albums without Gabriel are superb.

Speaking of “Trespass”, it has a particular charm! It tends to get a bit overlooked when people talk about their early phase, and yet it has a unique atmosphere and contains some memorable songs: “Looking For Someone”, “Stagnation” and “The Knife”, above all. 

It's an album that has grown even further in my estimation in recent years: it's true, the 1971-73 trio is the absolute pinnacle of prog. But “Trespass”, in certain respects, I find even more innovative, possessed of a flavor and a charm that are unique and never repeated (neither by them nor by anyone else), in which Anthony Phillips's talent and inventiveness find their fullest expression.

In your view, which of their albums is the most underrated?

“We Can't Dance”. With all the clichés I've heard and read about this record, you could publish an entire handbook of received wisdom. Many of those who bothered to actually listen to it (because there are also people who've passed judgment without ever really hearing it) stopped at a first, misleading impression, inventing a dependence on Phil Collins that doesn't actually exist (every Genesis album from “Abacab” onward grew out of improvisations by the three of them in the rehearsal room), criticizing the sound (but every record is a product of its time: what, then, should one say about the hyper-synthetic “Invisible Touch”?), while ignoring the excellent craftsmanship of a good part of the songs, as well as the compositional and stylistic innovations, not to mention lyrics that had finally grown mature and grounded in reality.

I completely agree with you, because in my view "We Can't Dance" contains some truly touching moments...

I'm glad to hear that judgment, which is clearly the result of someone who took the trouble to really listen, rather than basing their opinion on three minutes of a single, as so many did back then. All things considered, "We Can't Dance" is a mature and interesting album, without doubt one of the best (if not the best) records the trio made.

In the Seventies, Genesis's music was appreciated more in Italy than in their native England. Do you think there are particular reasons for that?

I'd say there are basically two. First, Genesis's music (like that of other artists who were appreciated here before they were at home, think of Van Der Graaf Generator and Gentle Giant) contained classical-leaning hooks that Italian listeners perhaps had a greater ability to appreciate than the English did, since classical music is part of our DNA and our history is full of musicians of immense talent and taste. English fans, obviously much further ahead when it came to rock but perhaps more drawn to beat and British blues, would have picked up on the changes underway a little later. The second reason, again as I see it, is more cultural. Italy in the early Seventies was full of social tension, but the young people of that time had an enviable open-mindedness and a real desire to embrace new experiences. As a result, they paid the utmost attention to these new musical phenomena, listening in reverent silence and applauding when applause was due, in contrast to the British audience, who at the time were perhaps more inclined to see music as a liberating art form, tied to moving your body or having a pint of beer. Genesis's sophisticated music could not have found, at that particular moment in history, a more attentive and receptive audience than the Italian one, as the band members themselves have always acknowledged.

Genesis's Eighties, despite huge commercial success, never won much critical acclaim, especially outside their circle of fans. As far as I'm concerned, there are several fine songs, but none of those records holds up against the ones from their golden era. What's your opinion of that period?

There's no doubt that Genesis's artistic peak lies in their Seventies albums, especially those from the four years between 1970 and '74. But that's true, broadly speaking, for pretty much every artist: a young musician's inexperience early in their career can be more than offset by enthusiasm and, above all, overflowing creativity. Honestly, I struggle to think of a single great rock artist who doesn't fit this pattern: sure, plenty of stars have had fantastic late-career comebacks, but at the end of the day, in the vast majority of cases, if you asked someone to pick the "golden era", to use your words, of a Bob Dylan, a Lou Reed, a Bruce Springsteen or a Neil Young, or of long-running bands like Rolling Stones and U2, I challenge anyone not to point to their early years. So why does everyone pile on Genesis specifically, dismissing the post-Gabriel era with such condescension? And I'll push it further: isn't it better to have a Genesis who had the strength to reinvent themselves, while still staying at the top of their game, rather than a Yes who, despite endless line-up changes, still put out pale copies of past glories today, only to then play the Seventies albums in full on tour? Without taking anything away from the greatness of Yes, the difference seems simply enormous to me. And when the wind changed, Genesis simply stopped making new music. Unfortunately, I'd add, because personally I would have much preferred, over the two reunions - about whose usefulness I've already made my opinion clear - an attempt, however clumsy, to get back in the game.

"...Calling All Stations..." (1997), with Ray Wilson on vocals, I actually find pretty poor. I remember it left me incredibly puzzled at the time...

I can understand your reaction: the sound of that record, and not just the vocals, is very different from the traditional Genesis sound. Banks and Rutherford tried to change things up, pushing for a harder sound (particularly in the use of guitars) and some dark influences, situations in which Wilson's fine voice could certainly hold its own. In the end, though, beyond the underuse - albeit unintentional - of the new singer's creative potential (Ray was brought in when most of the backing tracks had already been recorded), what weighed heavily was Collins's absence, not so much in vocal or instrumental terms as on the level of arrangements, since one of Phil's great talents was his ability to synthesize and smooth over certain rough edges between his two colleagues. Overall, and even more so with hindsight, there's a sense of incompleteness on the compositional and production level, especially in the longer tracks like "The Dividing Line", "One Man's Fool" and "There Must Be Some Other Way", which ultimately don't live up to their promise and are a bit disappointing. Still, it's not all bad, and I think the title track has a permanent place in my all-time Genesis top ten. If anything, I think the band should have had the courage to push on for at least one more record, if only to give Wilson the chance to settle in and contribute more. Sadly, that never happened.

What are the elements that make Genesis so recognizable within progressive rock?

I'd say basically two things: taste and melody. As for the first, the contrast is quite striking with some of the pomposity and excess typical of prog-rock (often repeated endlessly in concert) which, a few years later, would become the (rightful) favorite target of punk. Genesis, you see, never fell into that trap, simply because it wasn't in their nature. And then there's the melody, which, while certainly never obvious or trite (and here Tony Banks's gifts deserve particular credit), set them apart from colleagues who were just as, if not more, technically skilled, but who tended to clutter their compositions with intricate elements that weren't always, let's be honest, truly necessary.

Granted that, as far as solo careers go, Peter Gabriel's has certainly been the most fascinating and creative, I've always had a real soft spot for Phil Collins's, whose "...But Seriously" (1989) is an album of real class with some beautiful songs on it. What's your opinion of the great English drummer's solo career, and of that record in particular?

Although Collins's breakthrough solo record is, for obvious reasons, "Face Value", I too am very fond of "...But Seriously", which is probably his best album overall: mature, played beautifully (also featuring a magical Eric Clapton on "I Wish It Would Rain Down"), and with excellent songs throughout. His weakest album of original material, in my opinion, is the most recent one, "Testify", which I find rather bland. Throughout the rest of his career, though, Collins has consistently stayed at a medium-to-high level, creatively speaking too. I've actually always hated "No Jacket Required", his 1985 dance album (which, incidentally, was blessed with unprecedented success), but in recent times I've found myself reconsidering a few aspects I'd previously overlooked. For instance, a track like "Who Said I Would" still irritates me today, but I can't help being blown away listening to the bold rhythmic patterns of the horn section, especially in the live version. And then there's a B-side I used to consider horrendous: "I Like The Way". But I tried imagining it sung by Michael Jackson (if I knew how, I'd try to actually make that happen with AI!) and suddenly, in my mind, it took on a whole new light! Which just proves that, however much people want to underrate him, Phil Collins possesses a musicality with few rivals. It's no coincidence that he's always been considered untouchable by so many Black artists, including from more modern strands, coming from the world of rap and hip hop.

For each individual member of the band, which solo work would you recommend to someone who's never heard any of them?

Aside from Collins, it depends on everyone's taste and what they're looking for. Obviously, if you're after something very Genesis-like, then I can't help but recommend the debut albums by Mike Rutherford ("Smallcreep's Day"), Steve Hackett ("Voyage Of The Acolyte") and Tony Banks ("A Curious Feeling"). The latter two went on to pursue their respective careers mostly within romantic or classical-leaning rock, so, for an alternative, I might suggest the keyboardist's "Strictly Inc." (if only for the wonderful 17 minutes of "An Island In The Darkness") and the guitarist's "Spectral Mornings", while the bassist, as is well known, preferred a more straightforwardly pop path with Mike & The Mechanics (whose best album, in my opinion, is "Beggar On A Beach Of Gold"). Peter Gabriel's third solo album is obviously a milestone (closely followed by the fourth), but my absolute favorite solo record is Anthony Phillips's "The Geese & The Ghost", of a devastating acoustic beauty (for those who don't mind classical-leaning atmospheres, I'd suggest "Slow Dance" instead). And if anyone ever wanted to look further into Ray Wilson's solo career too, I'd recommend "Song For A Friend", a record that smells more of Roy Harper than of Genesis and, precisely for that reason, is all the more precious.

Speaking of Peter Gabriel, what do you think of the “Passion” soundtrack, which I find superb…

After his third and fourth albums, for me it's Gabriel's best record. I see we agree on quite a lot of things.

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