Riding the Scree

Andrew Beaujon will no doubt be delighted to learn that my wife is taking me to see Genesis’ “Turn it on Again” tour this Sunday at the Verizon Center. But, if you’re like the rest of the people I’ve told about this generosity, most of you are probably thinking one of two things:

A) Isn’t that sap a sweet guy! Why else would he accompany his wife to see one of the worst bands of all time?

Or…

B) Doesn’t he know that Peter Gabriel isn’t coming?

The latter is more perplexing than the former, because no one I know, other than a pal who used to loan me bootleg videos of the band playing on Scandinavian television, actually gives a crap about Genesis with or without Peter Gabriel (and if they care so much about Peter Gabriel why doesn’t Steve “I was in GTR, bitches” Hackett get any love?).

So, why front? Phil Collins was the Kanye West, 50 Cent, and Kenny Chesney of the early- to mid-eighties: ubiquitous. Unless your parents were classical musicians or Christian fundamentalists who wouldn’t let you listen to pop radio or date, you know “Abacab,” “No Reply at All,” “Invisible Touch,” and “Misunderstanding” just as well as you know, like, the national anthem or “My Humps.”