Foxtrot (1972)
1.Watcher of the Skies
2.Time Table
3.Get 'Em Out by Friday
4.Can-Utility and the Coastliners
5.Horizons
6.Supper's Ready
With Foxtrot, Genesis finally hit their stride. The ideas were there before, but now the execution has caught up. Gone is the awkward fumbling of Trespass, and even the promising-but-slightly spotty nature of Nursery Cryme feels like a warm-up act in hindsight. This is the first time it sounds like the band had a clear vision—and the tools, both musically and sonically, to bring it to life. Maybe it was the return of all five players from the last record (a first), or maybe it was producer John Burns, who steps in for John Anthony and gives the whole thing a tighter, more refined edge. Whatever the reason, the band sounds confident. Determined. Ready.
They open the album with Watcher of the Skies, and it’s a thunderbolt. Tony Banks sets the tone with his eerie Mellotron chords that hang in the air like something out of a gothic cathedral. From there, the whole band kicks in—Steve Hackett’s stabbing guitar, Mike Rutherford’s meaty bass pedals, Phil Collins’ busy-but-never-obnoxious drumming, and of course Peter Gabriel, who sounds absolutely possessed. It’s a song about aliens, apparently, but don’t worry too much about that. With early Genesis, lyrics often read like highbrow nonsense. The point is the mood, and the mood here is awe-inspiring.
From there, things get a bit more uneven. The shorter tracks on this album are... fine, but not much more. Time Table is pretty but largely forgettable, and Can-Utility and the Coastliners never really takes off, even though it tries. Horizons is a Steve Hackett solo guitar piece that barely breaks the 90-second mark. Lovely? Sure. Memorable? Not really. It’s almost like the band is just biding their time before they can get back to the long stuff.
Which brings us to Get ‘Em Out By Friday. Now this one’s a grower. Maybe. But then again, maybe not. It’s a bizarre little tale about landlords, tenants, and dystopian real estate—basically, it’s Peter Gabriel doing early social commentary via musical theater. At first, the song feels a bit too manic, with too many tempo changes and character voices, but after a few listens, it gets a little bit better. Musically, it has echoes of The Return of the Giant Hogweed from Nursery Cryme, but it’s tighter, more coherent, even though slightly odd. Well, a lot of the fans liked it.
And then... Supper’s Ready.
This is the big one. The song that every Genesis fan knows, worships, and discusses in hushed, reverent tones. Clocking in at 23 minutes, it’s the band’s magnum opus—an epic suite that somehow holds together despite sounding like six or seven different songs stitched together. But somehow, miraculously, it works. It starts off gentle and pastoral, builds into something theatrical and unhinged, detours into near-symphonic territory, and finally explodes into a massive, triumphant finale that gives you chills no matter how many times you’ve heard it. Even the lyrics, which are about as coherent as a fever dream, somehow feel appropriate. It’s over the top, yes—but gloriously so.
Genesis would go on to make bigger albums, more polished albums, and certainly more popular ones, but Foxtrot is the first one where everything clicks. The band has their footing, the sound is sharp, and the ambition is finally matched by ability. For early Genesis fans, this is where the journey truly picked up steam.
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