Prog, at its best, is English music’s epigonic and projected marriage of postmodernism and magic realism. Steve Hackett has spent a quartercentury out of Genesis painstakingly divining how to perfect it.
This is his umpteenth glorious failure. Hackett’s blizzard of textural ideas lacks discipline, the melodic ear remains tinny, but as ever there’s enough contrary cheekiness and blas
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