224. Steve Hackett
Royal ALbert Hall
23 October 2024
Another chapter in the ongoing progressive rock chapter of my progressive rock friend and me, this time, it led us once more to the Royal Albert Hall, where Steve Hackett, the velvet-fingered ex-Genesis guitarist and living proof that patience is a musical instrument, was presenting his The Lamb Stands Up Live tour. Unlike our last foray with the Canadian tribute scholars of The Musical Box, who painstakingly reconstruct Gabriel-era Genesis with all the forensic zeal of a police investigation, this was the real deal, or at least, the surviving one-fifth of it.
As we were sat waiting, we were chatting about music and I mentioned that I had never liked Jethro Tull. Which I do not. The problem was that I had said this in what my grandmother would call: “a stage whisper”. A ponytailed prog disciple in front overheard this sacrilegious uttering and fixed me with a gaze that was full of utter contempt. I might have well had said that I really enjoyed my new hobby of seal clubbing for all the disdain received.
Hackett appeared to rapturous applause, looking spry, and launched straight into the instrumental prelude, and within seconds the Hall was awash in warm nostalgia. This tour wasn’t just about Genesis’ The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway, it was a sort of reclamation of it by Hackett. He had assembled a crack team of collaborators: his brother John Hackett on flute (because of course), Amanda Lehmann handling guitar duties and harmonies with effortless grace, and, to everyone’s delight, former Genesis associate Ray Wilson stepping up to sing “Carpet Crawlers.”
Throughout the night, Hackett’s playing was a reminder of why he remains one of the most underrated guitarists of his generation. There’s no ego, no flash, just this deep, unhurried mastery. The man doesn’t play the guitar; he converses with it. Of course, there was the album itself; the sprawling, surreal rock opera that every prog fan secretly believes should be taught in schools. “The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway,” “In the Cage,” “The Grand Parade of Lifeless Packaging,” and “Back in NYC” all came roaring to life.
Hackett closed with a transcendent “Watcher of the Skies,” and the entire Hall rose as one with the solemn reverence of a cathedral service. Hacket proved, once again, that you can’t keep a good concept album down. A night of staggering musicianship, surreal storytelling and proof positive that, if you strip away all the prog silliness, at its heart these are really great songs.