There must be some misunderstanding. Is he in or out?
(“You’ve got to get in to get out . . .”)
Not the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, which Genesis was finally—and correctly—inducted into last March (by a very nervous Trey Anastasio). The question is: has he hung up his sticks forever? Has he set foot on his last stage, never to sing into the mic again?
(“Hello, I must be going . . .”)
It’s tough to say, based on the man’s recent remarks. Earlier this month there were conflicting reports: is he retiring from music to focus on his family, or not? Is it temporary or permanent? And most significant: who cares? Well, I do, of which more shortly.
Last year, due to medical concerns, he disclosed that he was unable to play the drums (inviting smart-ass types to inquire how long it had been since he had played the drums anyway, if he ever did). Due to a dislocated vertebrae in his neck, his hands were affected and presumably that explained the setback. Optimistic fans could assume that once he fully recovered, he could resume his musical aspirations. The bigger question was: does he have any? Considering it was the same year his band was enshrined, it was distressing to see him in various interviews expressing more ambivalence than pride regarding a career where he shares exclusive company with Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney for selling more than a million records with a band and as a solo artist.