Sorry, I know that pun was kind of a crass one, and certainly out of place when describing a serious artist like Peter Gabriel. It's just that his apparent love for two-letter album titles makes it too easy. And I think he knows a thing or two about the crudeness of everyday life interfering with an otherwise meaningful thought process.

I'll admit that I don't know all that much about the enigmatic solo artist and ex-Genesis member. You'd think he would've been someone I'd have gotten into sooner. I know I've liked the few songs I've heard by him ("In Your Eyes", "Red Rain", etc.), which is saying a lot, given my usual distaste for anything released in the 80's. I know that he has a husky voice and a penchant for integrating "world music" into his compositions. I know that his album So is supposed to be a classic, despite only having nine songs. But despite how much I know about an artist that intrigues me, I generally have to have a newly released album as an entry point before I work my way backwards. Given that Gabriel hadn't put anything new out in terms of studio albums since 1992 or so, and I didn't really get into music until '94, it makes sense that I would have some catching up to do.

So it's a tough task to review Gabriel's latest album, curiously titled Up. I don't have any complete Gabriel albums from the past to go on. Since categorizing the album is a bit tricky, and I've been told it's different from his past outings anyway, I'm at a loss for easy comparisons. Perhaps "progressive pop" would work - "pop" because Peter knows a good melody and a catchy beat when he hears one, and "progressive" because he waves together seemingly disparate elements into lengthy, sometimes meandering songs that can be difficult to dissect upon first listen. I know that the man's as old as my mother, so the fact that he's still willing to exercise his right to be a true artist is impressive in an industry where few artists age gracefully (most either veering towards adult contemporary schmaltz or embarrassing themselves trying to relive their glory days) is commendable.

So what does Up sound like, and what in the world possessed me to go listen to it? The answer to the second question would be flamepillar, who I have to thank for a deliciously detailed review that made me say, "Okay, I gotta hear this for myself". As for the first question, well, it's not called Up because it's upbeat or up-tempo, and it certainly ain't all that uplifting, either. In fact, Peter Gabriel seems to be a bit of a musical upstart here, opting to do things his way and apparently not caring who likes it. The album's track listing is deceptive - only ten songs, but all but one of them runs to six minutes or more, which is mostly admirable but occasionally tedious. The music ranges from sad, pensive ballads to slightly more danceable, beat-driven numbers that range from mildly optimistic to downright scary. Piano and strings play prominent roles, as well as drum programming and other forms of sonic wizardry. A few "world music" elements creep in, but nearly enough to classify the album under that category alone.

As for the lyrics, well, Peter must have had a tough ten years if he wrote upwards of 100 songs and whittled them down to this batch of 10. An apparent fear of death lingers throughout the project, with Peter occasionally trying to console himself through vague reminders of there being something beyond mortal life. No easy answers are given, and Peter seems to find himself distracted by the everyday occurrences that distract him from his painful soul-searching. Up strikes me as the story of a man on search for who knows what. And while the result of all these musings can sometimes leave the listener feeling a bit morbid, it's ultimately an interesting glimpse into the man's head.

Darkness
I own my fears, so they do not own me...
The album's lead track comes as such a surprise, I almost hate to spoil it for you. I get the feeling that no matter how well you know Mr. Gabriel, you're not ready for this one. Almost as if to play a cruel joke on the listener, the track starts off with a very quiet electronic beat, as if to tempt the listener to turn up the volume, and then BLAM! A metallic squeal smacks you upside the head, and a truly evil-sounding, grinding industrial sound takes over. As the sound drops out again, you're left with nothing but Peter's whispering - you wouldn't even know it was him until a small ray of light shines through when he begins to sing over comfortable piano chords. But then the heavy, Nine Inch Nails-inspired noise strikes again. This is more or less how the rest of the song goes, with calm, watery piano notes and Peter's soft singing fighting to maintain control over the horrific noise and some appropriately grunted out lyrics. It's a musical Jekyll-and-Hyde routine that makes for an interesting backdrop to an exploration of fear. Rather than totally succumbing to the list of things that he is afraid of, the quiet passages come across like the words of a wizened old man, almost as if the fear were a means to an end, a way for him to understand himself better. The bridge is the creepiest part, where Peter quietly describes walking through the forest and encountering his fear in human form in an abandoned house. Peter is surprised to find that "He's curled up on the floor just like a baby boy". You just have to hear it to understand the power of this song, but be warned, it will probably scare small children. There are very few songs that could be called "disturbing" that I actually like, but this is definitely one of 'em.

Growing Up
All the slow clouds pass us by, make the Empire State look high
As you take me in your sea-stained sweetness...
After the horrific nightmare slowly recedes into the distance, a more accessible but still enigmatic song takes its place. This one is also very electronically driven, morphing between tense, synthesized verses and a techno-pop styled chorus that seems a bit too tuneful for the rest of the song at first. Over the course of seven and a half minutes, Peter describes the process of growing up, from being in the womb to being in the tomb. It's all very mysterious, especially in between the verses dedicated to these growth stages, which count dots from one to four, and explain the significance of each number. (Yeah, I'm baffled too.) The chorus caps it all off with a declaration that "My ghost likes to travel". Not sure how all of this connects, but if there's anything to be gleaned from the song, it seems to be that Peter views death as just another stage in maturity, which I guess is actually a healthy view. The song does run a bit too long for its own good, though.

Sky Blue
So tired of all this traveling, so many miles away from home
I keep moving to be stable, free to wander, free to roam...
The title of this song always makes me think that it's going to end up in an ad for the similarly-named alcoholic beverage, but let's forget about that for now. The synths that lead off this song always make me feel like I'm floating in mid-air, looking down on the world from the point of view of an angel or something. It's actually quite calming. The song is pretty sparse for the most part, but Peter's vocal is very soulful on this one, with the Blind Boys of Alabama turning in some compelling background vocals, practically taking the song home with them near the end. I can't really figure out what this one's about - I just get a vague sense of searching for something that can't be found - traveling but never feeling at home. (Hmmm... maybe it has something to do with the "ghost" from the last song.) Whatever the meaning, it's one of my favorite songs on the record, because the soulful mood is a bit of a pick-me=-up amidst the downcast tone of the rest of it. I think dragging a song out to six or seven minutes works better for Peter when the song's tempo is slow to begin with, and he doesn't have to repeat certain sections as often.

No Way Out
There's a tightening in my chest, I know that I'm drawn in
Oh God, let it not be you...
This is the point where the epic song lengths start to get maddening. Behind this mid-tempo groove, driven by some pretty-cool bass and guitar parts and a stronger "world beat" presence, there seems to be an interesting, albeit heartbreaking story about the loss of a loved one. Peter seems to be in shock and denial as he encounters a group of people standing over this person, realizing that he or she is dead or in the process of dying, and they're completely helpless to do anything about it. Remember that movie "The Abyss", where that one woman allows herself to drown so she and one of the male characters can escape a rather sticky situation in the depths of the ocean, and when they emerge, he tries to resuscitate her back to life, and gets really mad at her for not responding, as if she were purposefully choosing to let go of her grip on mortality? That's what this song reminds me of, except Peter phrases it more in terms of sadness than anger. "You're not quitting on us," he tells the person, "There's no way out." But it's all in vain. The second verse is marred slightly by some odd lines about the color of the person's shirt and something about a goldfish - It may have something to do with the frailty of life but it kind of comes out of nowhere. If the song had more lyrics later on, it probably wouldn't bug me as much. Still a good number, just not one of the album's strongest.

I Grieve
The news that truly shocks is the empty, empty page...
Originally recorded for the City of Angels soundtrack a few years ago, this newly recorded version makes for a nice follow-up to "No Way Out", because it gives Peter a chance to mourn the loss of his friend. It starts off very simple, with slow gentle percussion and wonderfully emotive vocals from Peter - this is the closest thing this album has to an "instant classic". You can really feel his pain as he mulls over the implications of his sudden loss, and yet even in his admission that "I can't handle this", there seems to be a calm assurance that this is all a part of the natural grieving process. Interestingly, the song morphs into a halfway-danceable tune somewhere near the five-minute mark, and Peter starts to muse on what it means for life to carry on in things as pleasant as "The flies and rats, the rot and the rust, the ashes and the dust". Not exactly an encouraging thought, but again, I think it's healthy that Peter acknowledges death as natural and inevitable - it's very Ecclesiastical in that sense. I love the quotable line near the end - "Did I dream this belief, or did I believe this dream?" That's the stuff classic songs are made of.

The Barry Williams Show
Before the show, we calm them, we sympathize, we care
And the hostile folk we keep apart 'til the red light says "On Air"...
To put a song about sleazy talk shows after a song about the death of a loved one is kind of like putting a troupe of circus clowns in a funeral procession. But Peter has the nerve to do exactly that here, with this frank description of a fictional version of Jerry Springer, carried along by a slightly dirty backbeat, mockingly playful horns, and backing vocals that carry a shade of cheesy 80's rap music. Yeah, folks, and this is the radio single! (I'm sure it's being played in a severely trimmed-down state.) Peter's sinister vocals describe such savory things as child molesters, S/M lovers, being in love with your daughter's rapist, and other things you won't read about in Hallmark cards. It seems downright crude and insensitive - but I think that's the point. It's very clear from the satirical backdrop that Peter doesn't appreciate the attention all of this televised trash is getting these days. His sobering, sarcastic commentary on the subject sticks out like a sore thumb on an album otherwise concerned with metaphysical matters of life and death, which has apparently frustrated a lot of fans, but I think I see the purpose of its placement here. Still, someone probably should've told Peter that seven minutes of this lewd subject matter is a bit much.

My Head Sounds Like That
The moments come and go like water
I try to hold them, but they're fading...
A similar formula to "Darkness" is employed on this sluggish ballad, though the effect isn't nearly as unsettling. For the most part, the piano and vocals control the song, trudging along methodically like a wooly mammoth through a tar pit. The things Peter describes in this song seem rather random - just various noises that register while he's hanging around at home. The neighbor's being loud... the cat wants out... mundane stuff like that. At first, I was like, "Do I really care about all this?" When Peter breaks into falsetto and moans, "Oh, my head", part of me wants to tell him to take a freakin' Advil already. But then more of that industrial noise breaks in and things start to make a little more sense as Peter explains that he's trying to discern "What's left in and what's left out". These little noises and annoyances of everyday life are torturous to him, as are the crass talk shows, because he's in the midst of a spiritual crisis. Okay, so most listeners probably won't relate, and the attempt to make his own inner ramblings universal with a line like "Around the axis we all spin" is kind of pathetic, but there's still something intriguing about this song that keeps me coming back.

More Than This
Nothing fades as fast as the future
And nothing clings like the past...
What sounds like a heavily processed guitar riff sets this song in motion, cutting in and out awkwardly until the beat and Peter's lyrics meet up with it. The musical mood here is similar to "Growing Up" - a little faster tempo-wise and a little more optimistic. Peter seems to be reaching some sort of a resolution in his moments of deep meditation, and due to the glimmer of hope found here, this song might just have a slim chance at being a follow-up single. Don't hold your breath, though, because the song's still a bit long (just under six minutes; not as egregious), and the lyrics range from cryptic to laughably cliché. It's really a shame that all Peter can tell us is that there's "So much more than this beyond the stars". This is actually the song that breaks with the mood of the rest of the album - the attempt at encouragement just sounds forced. I don't expect Peter to remain in his depression, nor do I expect his searching to lead him to a specific set of beliefs about the afterlife in the span of 70 minutes or anything, but the vague nature of those lyrics really hurts the song's credibility. Still, Peter gets some interesting noises and a highly singable chorus out of this one, so not all is lost.

Signal to Noise
All the while the world is turning to noise
The more that it's surrounding us, the more that it destroys...
This song is definitely the album's emotional climax, though it takes a little while to get there, because at first, it just sounds like a bit of misguided tinkering around in the studio. A strange synthesized sound, like an object falling, leads to a dull thud, which becomes the slow beat of the song, and Peter begins to sing softly, his voice sounding incredibly distorted. This ain't gonna be an easy one to sing-along with. Things only get weirder as an instrumental break between verses makes room for some sort of an ethnic chant, which is compelling when you're used to it, but at first it sounds like a miniature boxer is using Rod Stewart's tonsils for a punching bag or something. It only sounds more inhuman the second time around, when it's honestly hard to tell if somebody warped the recorded by speeding it up and slowing it down, or if it's just some extremely exotic vocal talent. Anyway, Peter's love for the orchestra shows up here more than anywhere one he album, creating a lot of tension as the song builds to its finish. This song seems to be Peter's vow to turn the tide and not let all of the "inconsequential things" that he mentioned in "Darkness" drive him insane - he's determined to "turn up the signal, wipe out the noise". You almost feel sorry for him, making such a big stir over something that to most people would find insignificant, but I know how he feels. If you're not following all of this, you'll probably think it's a bit cheesy when he starts wailing "Receive and transmit!" over and over near the end of the song, but overall I think the effect is rather goosebump-inducing.

The Drop
Watching as the sun goes down, I sit inside this plane
Notice how the city lights are like the nerves inside the brain...
It's interesting that after all of these epic-length songs, Peter chooses to close out the album with a stark piano ballad that barely lasts for three minutes. Though his voice follows the piano rather closely, the overall melody seems a bit random and disjointed, especially when "Signal to Noise" drops out so quickly right before it. Peter seems to be observing the world from a plane, watching some sort of people or objects fall through the clouds, and wondering "where they're falling to". That question ends the CD on a very unresolved note, which will either intrigue you enough to give the album a second spin or make you want to throw your CD player out the window and scream, "You call that a finale?" I guess there's a fine line between frustrating your listeners and making them think you're a genius. And that line's different for everybody. I've heard rumors that this song might have something to do with the 9/11 terrorist attacks, and I can see how this song could be from the point of view of someone on the second plane, watching the carnage that ensued from the impact of the first plane, but I honestly can't say. If that's true, it makes the ending all the more unsettling.

So there you go, there's your musical map of Peter Gabriel's latest album. You'll either think he's lost it completely, or you'll relate and realize that you're losing it completely. (This will come as no surprise to you if you're a Radiohead fan, I guess.) I fall mostly on the latter side, with the realization that all of the sonic trickery on the album could have been woven together a little more tightly, and perhaps a few songs trimmed and lyrics revised to make room for maybe another track or two. After all, Peter had ten years to work on this sucker. No biggie, though. I can see that Peter's put a lot of work into this album, and I appreciate his willingness to incorporate modern sounds without coming off like he's just trying to be "hip" to a generation that's young enough to be his children. I guess the real meaning of Up is twofold - growing up with style, and owning up to your fears. Whatever it is that Peter Gabriel's searching for, I sure hope he finds it before his time is up.

ALBUM WORTH:
Darkness $2
Growing Up $1.50
Sky Blue $2
No Way Out $.50
I Grieve $2
The Barry Williams Show $1
My Head Sounds Like That $.50
More Than This $1
Signal to Noise $1.50
The Drop $0
TOTAL: $12

Website: http://www.petergabriel.com

Great Music to Play While: Channel-surfing late at night with the volume muted.

Recommended: Yes