The many references and messages in Peter Gabriel’s ‘So’ and how it changed art-rock forever
The seeds for what would eventually flower into So were planted long before the record came out, with Peter Gabriel teasing ‘We Do What We’re Told (Milgram’s 37)’ before his audience even knew what they were a part of.
During live performances, Gabriel would launch into the unreleased song and urge the audience to sing along, chanting a chorus of “We do what we’re told” without even knowing what the song was or what it actually meant. Little did they know, they were part of a subtle social experiment that Gabriel had borrowed from psychologist Stanley Milgram, exploring how easily humans blindly follow orders.
An abstract and inherently experimental idea that mirrored much of Gabriel’s work up to that point, ‘We Do What We’re Told (Milgram’s 37)’ trails from a specific idea, leaning into his desire to follow any thread of inspiration so long as it seems worthwhile. Among the record’s other tracks, this one stands out almost as an anomaly, contrasting with what many deem to be the most commercial material of his entire career.
However, therein lies the biggest misconception about So: the record is more commercial than his previous ones, but it isn’t commercial in its entirety, nor does it compromise on weighty messages, innovative genre-blending or mixing of different sounds for accessibility. In fact, it’s because of those traits that it remains a shining example of what art-rock could and should be when formula meets boundary-shattering excellence.
And much of its endurance hinges on its references to other things, beyond world music and the darker tones, like Milgram’s social experiment. It’s also why the record in its entirety is still viewed as more than just a commercial rock-leaning pop record, because it included many of Gabriel’s own personal inspirations, nestled within the broader theme of dreamlike musings and with an overture that immediately “crashed open”, like a bullet through glass.
‘Red Rain’ was inspired by a recurring dream Gabriel had that differed in detail each time; once, he was swimming in his back garden, drinking red wine, another time, people-shaped bottles were falling off a cliff, a red liquid downpour gushing from them as they crashed to the floor. The song was also to be the theme song for a film idea Gabriel had called Mozo, in which people were punished for their wrongdoings with blood rain.
Looking back, this seems like a rather gloomy opener for a record to mark a brand new, shining direction for him, but that’s also what makes it the correct choice. With arrangements that grab you immediately and almost clash with the subject matter, it has a gritty, sociopolitically-rooted charm, indicating fear and unease while still feeling danceable.
Not all of the songs dilute their subject matter, however, as ones like ‘Mercy Street’ catch you in their gentle sway while presenting some of Gabriel’s best lyrics. Inspired by the works of Anne Sexton, ‘Mercy Street’ tackles the principle and purpose of art, with Gabriel channelling his fascination with the way Sexton wrote solely for herself and no one else. And, of course, there’s ‘Sledgehammer’, his own take on Otis Redding’s soulful groove about the communicative magic of sex.
People have tried to decipher whether So came at a time when Gabriel had creatively given up, or whether it was itself an act of defiance, where expressive resignation can be traced right down to the title itself, chosen by Gabriel after experiencing pressure from the label to come up with something with commercial appeal. However, that removal of himself as the artist is what emerges as revolutionary rather than distant, allowing these references and messages space to breathe, shifting and developing the more we let them sit with us.
