When A Trick of the Tail arrived in February 1976, it carried a weight few albums have ever had to bear. It was the first Genesis record following the departure of frontman Peter Gabriel, whose theatrical presence and surreal lyricism had defined the band’s early-’70s identity. Many assumed Genesis would falter or fade without him. Instead, what emerged was not merely a successful continuation—it was a triumphant rebirth.
The circumstances surrounding its creation have become part of rock lore. Following the tour for The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway, Gabriel left to pursue a solo career. Rather than replace him outright, the remaining quartet—keyboardist Tony Banks, guitarist Steve Hackett, bassist/guitarist Mike Rutherford, and drummer Phil Collins—retreated to write as a unit. They initially auditioned hundreds of singers, but none felt quite right. Eventually, producer David Hentschel encouraged Collins to sing the demos himself. The revelation was immediate: the voice they needed had been sitting behind the drum kit all along.
Recorded at Trident Studios in London, the album captures a band energized by challenge. Hentschel’s production is crisp yet warm, giving space to Banks’ rich keyboard textures and Hackett’s lyrical guitar lines, while preserving the intricate rhythmic interplay that had always defined Genesis. There is a palpable sense of unity across the record; the songwriting feels collaborative, the performances confident, the atmosphere buoyant rather than burdened.
The album opens with “Dance on a Volcano,” a statement of intent if ever there was one. It explodes into life with shifting time signatures and urgent riffing, Collins delivering the lyric with both clarity and emotional bite. The track reassures listeners that Genesis had not abandoned complexity; if anything, they sound sharper and more focused. Rutherford’s bass pedals rumble beneath Banks’ synthesizer flourishes, while Hackett’s guitar cuts through with precision. It’s progressive rock with muscle and melody in perfect equilibrium.
“Entangled” follows, offering a moment of shimmering calm. One of the album’s most beautiful compositions, it layers 12-string guitars with ethereal keyboards and Collins’ gentle vocal delivery. The song’s dreamlike quality harks back to earlier Genesis pastoralism, yet it feels more intimate and less theatrical. Banks’ Mellotron textures swell like distant choirs, and Hackett’s solo floats with restrained elegance. It’s a masterclass in atmosphere.
The title track, “A Trick of the Tail,” is pure delight—quirky, melodic, and charmingly whimsical. This is one of the album’s most significant achievements: it honours the band’s past while establishing a new tonal center. Collins’ voice is warmer, less arch, more conversational. The shift subtly humanizes the band’s sound. “Squonk,” inspired by American folklore, is driven by Rutherford’s riff and anchored by Collins’ powerful drumming. The groove is formidable, almost proto-arena rock in its punch, yet still intricate. It’s one of the album’s most immediately accessible tracks, hinting at the more streamlined direction Genesis would explore in later years.
“Mad Man Moon” may be the album’s emotional centerpiece. Banks’ piano introduction unfolds with classical poise before blossoming into a sweeping progressive epic. The dynamic shifts are breathtaking—quiet introspection giving way to full-band crescendos with Hackett’s guitar solo, subtle yet expressive, adding a final flourish of poignancy.
On side two, “Robbery, Assault and Battery” injects theatrical humor back into the mix. It’s playful without tipping into parody, featuring nimble instrumental passages and clever lyrical twists. “Ripples…” is arguably one of the most gorgeous songs Genesis ever recorded. Built around delicate acoustic guitars and a yearning melody, it evolves into a luminous midsection. The song encapsulates the album’s spirit: reflective, melodic, and quietly confident.
The closing instrumental, “Los Endos,” ties the album together brilliantly. Reprising thematic fragments from “Dance on a Volcano” and nodding to earlier material, it serves as both a culmination and a bridge. Collins’ drumming is thunderous and precise, while Banks and Hackett trade lines with exhilarating finesse. It’s a triumphant finale, signaling that Genesis had not only survived but surged forward.
What makes A Trick of the Tail so remarkable is its balance. It retains the intricate structures and textural richness that defined earlier Genesis albums like Selling England by the Pound, yet it introduces a newfound clarity and melodic directness. Collins’ emergence as frontman subtly shifts the emotional palette. His voice, less enigmatic than Gabriel’s, brings warmth and relatability. Rather than diminishing the band’s mystique, it broadens their expressive range.
For listeners revisiting it decades later, the album still shimmers with vitality. Its melodies linger, its arrangements reveal new details with each spin, and its emotional core remains resonant. It is progressive rock not as indulgence, but as craft—intricate yet inviting, ambitious yet heartfelt.
A Trick of the Tail stands today not only as one of the finest records in the Genesis catalogue, but as one of progressive rock’s most graceful evolutions.
Donnie’s Rating: 10/10
