On June 1, 1978 Peter Gabriel released his second solo album, known by many fans as "Scratch" for its Hipgnosis cover. Produced by Robert Fripp, who plays guitar with future King Crimson bandmate Tony Levin on bass and the E Street's Roy Bittan on keyboards, the album has a monochromatic feel. Front loaded with the best songs (including "D.I.Y.", which may be a recognition of punk rock's influences) the album loses its energy on the second side. The best was yet to come.
Peter Gabriel's first solo album promised some sort of reconciliation between art rock and the rock mainstream: it had the sense of a breakthrough in negotiations between warring factions. Its two most direct hard-rock songs, "Modern Love" and "Solsbury Hill," were among 1977's most underrated.
Gabriel's second solo LP (which has the same title, or lack of one, as his debut) makes similar gestures to the mainstream, yet focuses more often on the progressivism he helped pioneer as a founding member of Genesis. There are still some good rock numbers — "On the Air" and "D.I.Y." most notably, as well as the kinky reggae song, "A Wonderful Day in a One-Way World" — but Gabriel, aided by producer Robert Fripp's banks of crashing guitar chords and various electronics, has discarded most of the gloss of the first record for a personal vision that is darker, more frightening and not quite as accessible.
Clearly, I don't find this Peter Gabriel as enticing as last year's, but I certainly can't dismiss it. If the prettiest moments are more difficult to listen to, the most difficult passages are easier to grasp. On the road to détente between progressive rock and whatever it is most of us care for, the new album seems an acceptable way station — encouraging enough to make tuning in for the next installment worthwhile, yet obtuse enough to make plain the difficulty of traveling this road.
Robert Christgau gav e the album a B- grade, writing:
One of those records that is diminished by the printed lyrics that are its reason for being. Musically, Gabriel combines with producer Robert Fripp for alert art-rock that gets down around atonality rather than jumping into the astral-noodle soup, with Roy Bittan's romantic flourishes as welcome as "D.I.Y.," a hard-rock landmark in a hard-rock year. B`ut even though it makes you sit up when it comes on the radio, it's basically program music, designed to support words as elitist (and programmatic) as the social commentary Gabriel used to essay in his Genesis days. Remember the immortal words of Chuck Berry: beware of middlebrows bearing electric guitars.