I cannot understate just how much Peter Gabriel changed my outlook, thoughts and perspective on music. He opened my eyes and ears to a whole lot more. Following his departure from Genesis in 1975, Gabriel would launch a solo career that would see him embrace everything from Joy Division to folk and world music.
He would launch WOMAD (World of Music, Arts and Dance) in 1980, hosting the first WOMAD festival in 1982. The idea would bring together musicians and performers that would otherwise not be seen on Western Stages. Despite initial failings that caused Gabriel to reunite with Genesis in 1983, the event established Gabriel as a pioneer in what would become the ‘World Music’ movement.
Gabriel would also open one of the now most famous recording studios in Britain. Real World Studios just outside of Bath would open in 1987, and over the years has seen numerous artists from New Order, Stereophonics, Johnny Marr, Coldplay, through to Kanye West, and Harry Styles.
His impact on me, but also his impact on popular music, cannot be understated; in all senses, he is a pioneer.
So here goes. Here’s my top 10 Peter Gabriel songs.
Gabriel’s 1986 ‘So’ is nothing short of a masterpiece, and I promise this won’t be the last song from that album on the list. The album's penultimate track was originally written a couple of years earlier as a collaboration with Laurie Anderson, for a project in 1984, named ‘Good Morning, Mr Orwell’. The song, originally named ‘Excellent Birds’, was then reworked a few times before appearing on ‘So.’
The song continued Gabriel’s theme of experimentation throughout the 1980s. Exploring art rock, spoken word, and world beat rhythms. Interplaying with Anderson’s avant-garde vocal delivery, Gabriel’s vocal gives the song an almost conversational feel. The layered percussion and jagged rhythms echo his fascination with non-Western musical traditions, while the lyrical fragments capture snapshots of modern life in a fractured, almost cubist style. It’s less about melody and more about mood. Gabriel is always one to challenge his listeners.
Despite not being as recognisable as some of the other songs on ‘So’, it had to make the list. On an album that turned Gabriel into one of the most successful solo artists of the decade, he continued to blur the line between pop and performance art, and it stands as a testament to Gabriel's relentless creativity and his ability to make even the most unconventional material into a brilliant piece of pop music.
One of the standout tracks from Gabriel's 1980 self-titled album (often referred to as 'Melt'. This was a record where Gabriel embraced a darker, more angular side to songwriting. 'I Don't Remember' is a song that perfectly embodies this new sound. Built around an industrial jagged rhythm, clipped guitar lines and one of Gabriel's most urgent vocal deliveries.
The atmosphere of 'I Don't Remember' is led by the drums. During the sessions for 'Melt', he holds his drummers not to use their cymbals at all, forcing them to find new ways to create rhythm. The result of this was stark, a record defined by toms, snares and bass drums. Combining this with Steve Lillywhite’s production and the now-iconic gated reverb, it created a drum sound unlike anything else at the time.
Live, the song took on an even more explosive dimension, becoming one of Gabriel’s fiercest performance pieces. The interplay of Tony Levin’s thunderous Chapman Stick basslines and Jerry Marotta’s precision drumming turned the track into a muscular art-rock powerhouse. What makes ‘I Don’t Remember’ so essential in Gabriel’s catalogue is its blend of accessibility and experimentation. The hooks are there, but they’re jagged; the groove is strong, but it’s restless.
At number eight is ‘Family Snapshot’, one of the most haunting and cinematic songs in Peter Gabriel’s catalogue. Featured on 1980s ‘Melt’, it begins with a deceptively intimate, almost tender piano part, before gradually unfolding into something far darker. Inspired by the autobiography of American political assassin Arthur Bremer, Gabriel wrote the lyrics as a chilling character study, stepping into the mind of a would-be assassin and tracing the mixture of loneliness, desperation, and misplaced longing that drives him.
The track is a masterclass in dynamics. The opening verses, hushed and reflective, gradually build toward a violent, percussive climax where the assassin makes his move. Then, just as suddenly, the music collapses into a quiet, desolate ending, revealing the emptiness at the heart of the act. This narrative arc: from vulnerability to rage to hollow aftermath, is mirrored in the music, which shifts from delicate piano to thunderous gated drums.
What makes ‘Family Snapshot’ so powerful is its refusal to sensationalise violence. Instead, Gabriel humanises the character, showing how isolation and an unfulfilled longing for recognition can twist into something destructive. It’s both unsettling and deeply moving, a timeless portrait of fractured humanity. It's comfortably one of Gabriel's most ambitious songs and his most earnest storytelling. A song that had to make the list.
One of Gabriel's earliest solo efforts, the last song on his 1977 self-titled debut album (often called 'Car'), the song is deeply emotional and introspective. Yet the song carries an immense power, particularly within the choruses. It showcases Gabriel’s ability to merge personal vulnerability with grand, almost apocalyptic imagery.
Written soon after he departed from Genesis, recalling that the song was written during a warm summer evening while on the hillside above his cottage. As an experiment, Gabriel made a habit of running down the hillside one hundred paces with his eyes closed. During one of those excursions, Gabriel recalled that he felt "an energy point on the hillside and after a burst of meditation stormed down the hill to write."
‘Here Comes the Flood’ occupies a unique spot in Gabriel’s top ten because it highlights the roots of his solo work. Before the complex percussion of ‘Melt’ or the radio-ready hooks of ‘So’, Gabriel was already exploring space, tension, and vulnerability in song form. Its haunting minimalism and emotional honesty make it a touchstone for understanding the depth and evolution of his artistry.
'San Jacinto', which featured on his 1982 album 'Security', is one of Gabriel's most profound moments of storytelling. The track was inspired by a real-life encounter Gabriel had while on tour in the United States. He met an Apache man working at the same hotel where Gabriel and his band were staying. The man had just learned that his flat had burned down, yet what concerned him most was the fate of his cat. That perspective impressed Gabriel deeply, and during their drive together, the man shared stories of his initiation into tribal life: tales that would eventually inspire the heart of ‘San Jacinto’.
The Apache man described being taken into the mountains as a boy by a medicine man, carrying a rattlesnake in a bag. The snake was placed on his arm to deliver a bite, and then he was left in the wilderness to survive for fourteen days. If he returned, he was considered brave; if not, he perished. According to the man, he most endured, though the trial involved intense hallucinations and spiritual visions. Gabriel was struck by this raw and transformative rite of passage, and it became the backbone of the song’s narrative.
Musically, ‘San Jacinto’ mirrors this tension between the sacred and the commercial, the timeless and the contemporary. It's slow build, atmospheric synths, and powerful crescendos capture the hallucinatory intensity of the initiation process, while Gabriel’s voice, alternately hushed and soaring, carries both pain and resilience. The refrain “I hold the line” reflects the young initiate’s determination to survive, turning the song into both a personal and cultural anthem of endurance.
More than just a political or spiritual statement, ‘San Jacinto’ is a deeply empathetic piece, born from Gabriel’s willingness to listen, observe, and translate human stories into art, something he would do multiple times in his career.
'Biko' is one of Gabriel's most political songs, and it brings the 1980 album 'Melt' to a close. Written in response to the South African anti-apartheid activist Steven Biko, the song stands out as one of Gabriel's best.
Musically, ‘Biko’ is both stark and unforgettable. Built on a hypnotic, unrelenting rhythm, the track incorporates African-inspired drumming patterns, heavy toms and booming bass. Layered on top are mournful synthesisers and, unexpectedly, bagpipes, whose droning, keening sound adds a funereal and universal dimension to the arrangement. The blend of African rhythm and European instrumentation underscores Gabriel’s vision of a global, borderless sound that speaks to shared human struggle.
The song's structure is deliberately minimal; Gabriel wants you to sit and listen to the lyrics, because they vividly paint a picture of what happened to Steven Biko, as well as the world's reaction to it. The song's lyrics include phrases in Xhosa, describe Biko's death and the violence under the apartheid government. The song is book-ended with recordings of songs sung at Biko's funeral: the album version begins with "Ngomhla sibuyayo" and ends with "Senzeni Na?", while the single versions end with "Nkosi Sikelel' iAfrika".
More than any other song in Gabriel’s catalogue, ‘Biko’ transcended music to become a force for awareness and change. It brought global attention to apartheid, introduced audiences to Steve Biko’s story, and became an anthem of resistance at benefit concerts around the world.
The song has been credited with creating a "political awakening" both in terms of awareness of the brutalities of apartheid and of Steve Biko as a person. It greatly raised Biko's profile, making his name known to millions of people who had not previously heard of him.
A spectacular song.
Another effort from Gabriel's 1986 album 'So'. Derived from another song titled 'Sagrada', which Gabriel was working on for the album, said to be inspired by a trip to the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona, the song was only a rough mix, but was still performed live a few times. Eventually, it was scrapped, and Gabriel took some elements to begin work on 'In Your Eyes'.
The song is notable for its fusion of Western pop-rock and African musical textures. The rhythm is built on a layered groove, with Tony Levin’s bass and Manu Katché’s inventive drumming locking in beneath shimmering keyboards. Crucially, Gabriel invited Senegalese singer Youssou N’Dour to contribute backing vocals, and his soaring, soulful lines at the song’s climax elevate it into something transcendent. The cross-cultural blend feels organic and celebratory, reflecting Gabriel’s passion for world music and his commitment to collaboration.
In terms of theme, it's probably the closest that we've ever seen Gabriel come to writing a traditional love song. A real emotive affair.
When determining the track order for 'So', Gabriel wanted 'In Your Eyes' to be the final track, but its prominent bassline meant it had to be placed earlier on the vinyl edition, where the phonograph stylus had more room to vibrate. This restriction was no longer an issue for later CD releases, allowing the track to be placed at the end of the album as originally intended.
It brings one of the greatest albums of that decade to an end, and it does so with an effort of all love.
The song that launched his solo career. 'Solsbury Hill' was the first single from 1977's 'Car' and even all of these years later, it remains one of his most beloved and enduring works. The song marked a stark change from the songs he had been writing in Genesis. Much more introspective, concise and as far from prog as he was willing to comfortably get. He wrote the song about a spiritual experience atop Solsbury Hill in Somerset, England, and within the song's opening lines, he transports the listener to Solsbury Hill with him.
“Climbing up on Solsbury Hill/ I could see the city light/ Wind was blowing, time stood still/ Eagle flew out of the night.” Paints such a vivid picture of where he is, and puts that image firmly at the forefront of the listener's experience.
Despite the song being about Gabriel's experiences and the decision he had made to leave Genesis, the song is universal. He himself said, “It’s about being prepared to lose what you have for what you might get, or what you are for what you might be. It’s about letting go.”
The song that kicked things off, and a song that presented Gabriel the solo artist to the world.
At number two is another effort from 'Melt'. A political satirical comment about the political gamesmanship that defined the Cold War era. On the surface, the track’s whistling hook and Kate Bush’s ethereal backing vocals might suggest whimsy, but beneath that sheen lies a biting critique of nationalism, war, and the childish rivalries of global politics.
The song's title, 'Games Without Frontiers', references a European TV game show called "Jeux Sans Frontières" (French for "Games Without Borders"), where teams from different countries competed in absurd, often silly challenges. Gabriel deftly uses it as a metaphor for the far more dangerous and petty games played by global powers on the world stage. Gabriel’s lyrics draw sharp parallels between the ridiculous antics of these game shows and the very real, very dangerous power struggles between nations. The innocence of games becomes corrupted by the militaristic posturing of global superpowers, where pride and nationalism fuel dangerous brinkmanship.
It was the first but not the last time Gabriel would collaborate to great effect with Kate Bush. Her voice lingers like a ghost, softly whispering the French phrase “jeux sans frontières”, creating a haunting contrast to the harder-edged music. The playful intonation contrasts with the heavier theme of Gabriel’s lyrics, underlining the absurdity of how wars and politics are often treated like competitions, as if they were “games without frontiers.”
Musically, the song embodies the experimental spirit of ‘Melt’. Built on a minimalist groove with clipped guitar textures, Tony Levin’s percussive Chapman Stick, and Jerry Marotta’s cymbal-free drumming, it feels taut and unsettling. Gabriel’s vocal delivery alternates between deadpan verses and an almost mocking chorus, perfectly capturing the absurdity of world leaders treating geopolitical conflict like a schoolyard game.
‘Games Without Frontiers’ was a breakthrough for Gabriel, becoming his first major hit as a solo artist in the UK and reaching audiences who may not have been ready for the more abrasive corners of ‘Melt’. Gabriel’s use of surrealism, satire, and art-rock helped transform a catchy, radio-friendly song into a layered critique of world affairs. He managed to tackle some hard-hitting themes in such a clever well well-layered pop song. A song that still resonates all these years later.
I feel obliged to talk about the hit. 'Sledgehammer' for many of us is the first time we hear Peter Gabriel, and despite it being Gabriel's biggest commercial success, by no means is it the sound of a man selling out. It's anything but. he song’s irresistible funk groove, powered by a horn section straight out of the Stax soul tradition, showed a playful and exuberant side of Gabriel that contrasted with the darker, more experimental tones of much of his earlier work.
Equally important was its groundbreaking music video, filled with stop-motion animation and surreal visual effects that set new standards for the medium. Constantly ranked among the greatest music videos of all time, it turned Gabriel into a household name on MTV and helped redefine how artists could merge music with visual storytelling.
While it doesn’t occupy a numbered spot in this particular top ten, ‘Sledgehammer’ remains a towering achievement: a joyful, funky detour that proves Gabriel could dominate the pop charts without sacrificing artistry
The thunderous opener to 'So' and in my opinion the opener to the greatest album ever. It's a spectacular affair. Everything Gabriel had done up until that point unites and collides to create something that is nothing short of a masterpiece.
The song is a combination of several inspirations. The lyrics directly reference a recurring dream Gabriel was having where he swam in his backyard pool, drinking cold red wine. Another version of the dream had bottles in the shape of people falling from a cliff. In it, a stream of red liquid would seep out of the people-shaped bottles as they smashed with impact onto the ground, and was usually followed by a torrential downpour of the same red liquid.
When describing the song, Gabriel said, “‘Red Rain’ was written after a dream I’d had about the sea being parted by two walls. There were these glass-like figures that would screw themselves into each wall, fill up with red blood and then be lowered across the sand, as it were, to the next wall, where they’d unload the blood on the other side. I used to have these extremely vivid dreams that scared the hell out of me.”
Musically, ‘Red Rain’ is a masterclass in tension and release. Manu Katché’s restless, polyrhythmic drumming anchors the track, while Tony Levin’s Chapman Stick basslines add thunderous depth and David Rhodes’ guitar slices through the mix with sharp precision. Adding another layer of intensity is Stewart Copeland of The Police, who contributes the constant hiss and drive of hi-hats throughout the song. That shimmering, urgent texture contrasts with Gabriel’s heavy subject matter, like raindrops falling against the weight of a storm, and gives the track a nervous, unstoppable forward motion.
As the opening song on ‘So’, ‘Red Rain’ sets the tone for the entire album: passionate, ambitious, and unafraid to merge pop hooks with artistic experimentation. Its placement at number one in this countdown acknowledges its role not just as a career highlight, but as the quintessential Peter Gabriel song, a perfect storm of emotion, innovation, and vision. More than three decades later, ‘Red Rain’ still crashes down with undiminished power, its hi-hats hissing like the rain it conjures.
Thank you for reading
Jack