That was the last Genesis concert in London

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Then, in the middle of the night, this photo suddenly appeared on the internet. Recorded probably in a washroom, somewhere in the catacomb labyrinth of London’s Millennium Dome, it showed the men whose common path ended many years ago and who will nevertheless be forever connected: a little tired, but out of sight of their inherent goodness looking Peter Gabriel and, leaning on his companion Phil Collins, with rimless round glasses and an almost relieved looking Phil Collins.

Next to him the grizzled giant Richard McPhail, friend and tour manager of the band since school days, who had been buried a few hours earlier: Genesis. 53 years after the band was founded, almost 46 years to the day after Collins took over the microphone from Gabriel, the definitive finale. It had been announced for a long time, but Collins didn’t leave any leeway. “This is the last concert of the tour and it’s the last time Genesis will play together,” he says right at the beginning of the concert.

Perhaps the best concert of The Last Domino? Tour

How does one commit such a self-determined funeral? For example, you could bring all the ex-members who are still alive back onto the stage for a few moments of forgiving nostalgia, as a sign of harmony. Consider the setlist, which has changed exactly once (when “Misunderstanding” was played instead of “Duchess”) since the start of The Last Domino? tour (the question mark has now become an exclamation mark on t-shirts) last fall , complement, play something extraordinary, with colleagues as guests. But the three rest of Genesis members, Mike Rutherford, Tony Banks and of course Phil Collins decided to play a great concert, maybe the best of the tour. No less, but no more.

Less than an hour before the concert began, the first hectic news had made the rounds: Peter Gabriel is in the hall. The unthinkable, the reunion, at least for a blink of an eye, was conceivable. It became dead quiet in the hall when Collins announced: “I normally present the band here” – only to then only praise the roadies, technicians and caterers (who later polonized angularly across the stage to “I can’t dance”. should) and thank the manager. However, without mentioning by name Tony Smith, the man whose idea this last tour had been. Did that seem cold and distant? Yes. It’s always such details.

Bad start, great finale

I’ve seen Genesis seven times on this tour. The first concert was a catastrophe, the threatening Covid quarantine, the temporary cancellation of the tour, but above all a tangible dispute between Collins and Banks, which one hears about, made Glasgow a half-baked, erratic affair. On this tour, however, the band couldn’t afford any dissonances (mistakes could – there were a surprising number of them) – everything was geared towards the Genesis collective, supplemented by the really incredibly talented Nic Collins (“my little boy”) and Daryl Stuermer, works perfectly. Only in this way could the company’s weakest flank, the ailing, fragile exceptional musician Collins, be nurtured and protected in such a way that his weaknesses were strengthened.

In fact, all the other concerts showed the greatness of the band, which, through Collins’ pain and – yes – agony, freed from all the soup clutter of the last tours, could finally shine like it had not for forty (!) years. The band, which had recently delivered a kind of presentation of their greatest hits in the style of a gigantic PowerPoint production, had become a real rock band again.

There aren’t that many anymore. The set list has hardly changed noticeably, the unspeakable things like “Invisible Touch” and “I can’t dance” were played, this time with the big difference that Collins’ fragility gave even these pieces a kind of dignity that they didn’t have before and which they actually held up against the grandiose highlights like “Second Home by the Sea”, the snippets from “The Cinema Show” and “Firth of Fifth” and the glorious “I know what I like” here.

“By the way, Peter is in the audience”

Now in London, as happened at every concert, a smart-ass cried out for the 23-minute epic Supper’s Ready. But this time, Collins agreed: “By the way, Peter’s in the audience. Peter Gabriel.” Thunderous applause – and at the same time the certainty that whoever is sitting in the Amex box will not come onto the stage right away. Collins, in an old joke: “Maybe it was him who called.”

In hindsight, I would have given a finger of the devil to see Genesis on stage with Gabriel for even a second. Then again: it was Collins, Rutherford and Banks who pulled off this comeback, they alone. Even at the price that the concert felt more like the end of a big tour and not necessarily like that of a fantastic career, everything was right. And right isn’t always good.

But seeing the photo late at night was heartbreaking. We were so close. But it just wasn’t our show. It was Genesis: Tony Banks, Mike Rutherford and Phil Collins.



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