Sorry in advance for a very personal long litany.
My last rock concert was Genesis in Berlin 2022.
It was a torn evening. There are a few really great moments, but also a lot of idling in between; after two thirds I've had the feeling that Phil Collins in particular has extinguished the tension of the beginning and he is now singing through the remaining hour rather badly than right. But somehow it doesn't matter either, I was not really in this concert to attend successful music. I was there to say goodbye - to a band that in the seventies and also in the early eighties, some of the greatest songs in the history of pop music. But you also say goodbye to a band that at some point lost the feeling for what its greatness once consisted of; and which, when trying to meet again with its former self, only finds something that has become foreign to it and that she no longer understands. But isn't Genesis doing the way we all feel with our former self? Maybe that's why I left this evening with such great emotion: because, in his failure and in his size, he offered a picture of human existence. At the end of the encore, Genesis Carpet Crawlers from the 1975 The-Lamb-Lies-Down-on-Broadway-LP play, and suddenly everyone is all with themselves and their music again. Phil Collins gets as close to Peter Gabriel's singing as anyone can; the band nestles under him and carries him away: "We've got to get in to get out," sings Phil Collins, we have to come in to be able to get out again: "We've got to get in to get out."
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