Peter Gabriel whose birthday is today . Happy Birthday BTW . has performed with . myriad of artists of all genres, either on records or in concerts. We have selected fifteen of them.
They are . Chris Martin, Kate Bush, Sinéad O’Connor, Jivan Gasparyan, Brian May, Johnny Clegg, Yusuf Islam (Cat Stevens), Papa Wemba, Laurie Anderson, Angun, Natalie Merchant, Michael Stipe, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, Tracy Chapman, Youssou N’Dour
Here, they are reunited in one glorious playlist. Enjoy!
Tracklist
1 . Chris Martin . Washing Of The Water“Washing of the Water” finds Chris Martin stepping away from the soaring anthems of Coldplay to lend his voice to Peter Gabriel’s introspective meditation on spiritual cleansing and redemption. Originally from Gabriel’s “Us” album sessions and later featured on the 2002 EP of the same name, the track sidesteps any grandiose theatrics in favor of a sparse landscape, with Martin’s vocal contribution adding an understated emotional tint somewhere between reverence and restraint. It’s a curious collaboration—Martin, whose melodic sensitivity often thrives within tightly woven crescendos, pairs with Gabriel, who prefers expansive flights into thematic exploration, pushing boundaries just shy of self-indulgence. The result isn’t always seamless; Gabriel’s original wrestles more convincingly with the weight of its spiritual urgency, while Martin, though sincere, occasionally undercuts the gravitas with a delivery that feels almost too polished for the song’s raw undercurrents. Still, this partnership encapsulates a mutual respect later cemented by Martin inducting Gabriel into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2014, a detail that contextualizes the personal heft behind this project. While not a standalone Coldplay moment or a redefinition of Gabriel’s legacy, the track does gesture toward the porousness of artistic boundaries—two vastly different figures meeting halfway in an understated hymn for transcendence. 
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2 . Kate Bush . Another DayThe duet of “Another Day” by Kate Bush and Peter Gabriel occupies a unique niche, both as a tribute to Roy Harper’s original and as a televised moment in late ’70s British art pop. Originally written and recorded by Harper in 1969 at Abbey Road Studios and released on his 1970 album “Flat Baroque and Berserk,” the song thrives on post-breakup reflection, its dual perspectives amplifying the emotional dissonance of severed ties. In Bush’s 1979 BBC special—a program that followed her ambitious “Tour of Life” and combined theatricality with music—the pairing with Gabriel feels both deliberate and fleeting. Their voices intertwine like apparitions of the song’s central figures, capturing the restless, bittersweet longing inherent in Harper’s composition. This televised performance, framed by a Christmas broadcast, creates an ephemeral intimacy that neither artist seems intent on overstating. The collaboration’s gravity exceeds the duet itself, instigating later intersections between Bush and Harper. Harper contributed backing vocals to Bush’s “Breathing” from her 1980 album “Never for Ever,” while the two shared the spotlight on “You,” from Harper’s “The Unknown Soldier” released the same year. These interactions reflect a certain camaraderie among ’70s and ’80s British artists, where creativity cross-pollinated quietly yet impactfully. Musically, their interpretation respects Harper’s delicate balance of wistfulness and rawness. Bush and Gabriel inhabit their roles with restraint, complementing rather than overpowering each other. Still, the performance risks feeling like a specific artifact of its era rather than a timeless reinvention. Its power lies in the moment—beautifully rendered, yet less inclined to transcend its original medium.
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3 . Sinéad O’Connor . Blood Of Eden“Blood Of Eden,” from Peter Gabriel’s 1992 album “US,” traces the contours of emotional intensity with a deliberate, if occasionally meandering, hand. Featuring Sinéad O’Connor’s evocative vocals, the track’s ambitions stretch toward a meditation on human connection—frame it as a duet between yearning and loss. Gabriel’s partnership with Daniel Lanois in production, alongside engineering by David Bottrill, anchors the song in a sonic milieu that blends organic warmth with technical precision. Still, the tension between refinement and emotional rawness sometimes leaves it sounding hesitant rather than resolute. The instrumental ensemble—Tony Levin’s bass, David Rhodes’ 12-string guitar, and Shankar’s violin—wraps the song in a textured soundscape. Levon Minassian’s doudouk adds an aching timbre, pointing toward Gabriel’s fascination for cross-cultural musical intersections. This is fitting for a track recorded at Real World Studios, its sonic palette reflecting the studio’s ethos. Released as the album’s third single in 1993, its UK chart performance (a modest peak at No. 43) suggests it resonated less commercially, despite several weeks in the Top 75. Considering Gabriel’s chart history, its subdued presence feels telling—perhaps its introspection challenges the immediacy typically rewarded in such rankings. The accompanying music video, directed by Nichola Bruce and Michael Coulson, imports visual dramatism, complementing the song’s themes of union and discord. But for all its artistic flourishes, one wonders if the song’s density could benefit from a sharper narrative focus. “Blood Of Eden” occupies a space that is undeniably ambitious but, at times, risks becoming overconstructed. While the interplay of Gabriel and O’Connor’s voices achieves moments of brilliance, its emotional resonance waxes and wanes within the collage of global textures and meticulously reworked rhythms.
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4 . Jivan Gasparyan & Brian May . The Feeling Begins“The Feeling Begins” comes from Peter Gabriel’s 1989 album “Passion,” composed for Martin Scorsese’s “The Last Temptation of Christ.” Its core is rooted in the haunting, ancient tones of the Armenian duduk, played by Jivan Gasparyan, whose mastery breathes an uncanny poignancy into the piece. The duduk doesn’t so much speak as it wails, saturating the track with an atmosphere that feels both sacred and mournful. Gabriel crafts a textured soundscape but wisely lets Gasparyan’s instrument take center stage, ensuring that the composition feels timeless rather than weighed down by its cinematic origins. Brian May, though a virtuoso with the guitar, plays no direct role in this track. His collaborative history with Gasparyan, notably their 2005 performance of a Hans Zimmer and Gasparyan composition at the 46664 concert in Norway, offers a fascinating linkage of rock and world music. Yet, this is where their crossover diverges from “The Feeling Begins.” While May’s integration into Gasparyan’s orbit is intriguing, this track exists untouched by his signature licks. One could wonder how a glimmer of May’s guitar might’ve danced alongside the duduk—an experiment in contrast that remains untested here. Gasparyan’s presence with Gabriel during the “Still Growing Up” tour in 2004 underscores the enduring appeal of “The Feeling Begins” as a live cultural artifact. Yet again, its live performances, such as those featuring Levon Minassian, highlight the duduk’s centrality. For all its enchantment, the piece carries restraint in its arrangement—lush yet sparse, compelling yet never overwhelming. It is a quintessential example of Gabriel’s ability to soak his compositions in emotion while tethering them to global roots, though one can’t help but wonder whether the lack of a rhythmic counterpoint leaves moments for the mind to wander. Ultimately, “The Feeling Begins” thrives on the ghostly resonance of Gasparyan’s instrument, while May’s separate collaborations with the duduk legend expand Gasparyan’s global footprint without shading this particular track. It’s a compelling exercise in emotional minimalism, but any imagined synergy between May and the duduk is left to dreamers, not history books. B+
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5 . Johnny Clegg . Asimbonanga“Asimbonanga,” a key track from Johnny Clegg’s 1987 album “Third World Child,” stands as a potent political statement cloaked in melody. The Zulu phrase translates to “We have not seen him,” a searing reference to Nelson Mandela’s erasure from public life during his imprisonment, when even his image was banned in South Africa. Johnny Clegg, often referred to as “the white Zulu,” uses the song’s evocative lyrics to highlight the void left by Mandela’s absence. Yet this isn’t just about one man—figures like Steven Biko, Victoria Mxenge, and Neil Aggett are name-checked, linking the song to the broader anti-apartheid struggle. The track’s solemn longing is counterbalanced by its rhythmic energy, a Savuka signature, which makes its politics both accessible and unflinching. “Third World Child” saw massive success, especially in France, where it reached #3 on the charts and earned Diamond certification in 1990 after selling over a million copies. Notably, Clegg’s live performances played a significant role in this global acclaim. The 1999 moment when Mandela joined him on stage during “Asimbonanga” became more than a career milestone—it was a crystallization of the song’s prophetic lyricism into real-world triumph. While its inclusion in “Rain Man” introduced the track to new audiences, its resonance has endured through newer iterations, such as Woolworths’ video tribute marking Mandela’s passing. Here, Clegg reimagines the track for younger generations, prompting them to carry Mandela’s torch forward, a testament to the song’s enduring relevance. Yet for all its strengths, the track walks a fine line. Its broad appeal risks smoothing over the jagged edges of apartheid’s realities, a tension that emerges most notably in its international tours, where Savuka often outshone major acts like Michael Jackson in France. Does its accessibility dilute its anger? Or does it amplify its reach? Either way, “Asimbonanga” remains a defining cultural artifact of a turbulent era.
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6 . Yusuf Islam (Cat Stevens) . Wild WorldA bittersweet farewell shaped by a Spanish-inspired chord sequence, Yusuf Islam’s—then Cat Stevens—”Wild World” offers a melodic yet detached glimpse into human vulnerability and rupture. Anchored within the critical context of the “Tea for the Tillerman” album, released in 1970, its modest arrangement disguises an undercurrent of poignancy. Paul Samwell-Smith’s production ensures every note feels deliberate, from the hushed vulnerability in the vocals to the restrained support of the instrumentation—a subtle counterpoint to its lyrical ache. The song’s chord sequence, borrowed from Spanish traditions, may evoke flamenco aspirations but stops short of fully immersing itself, instead preferring to hover at the edge of the exotic. Lyrically, the track sidesteps mawkish sentimentality; its brevity prevents overindulgence, though its “goodbye” narrative feels more resigned than revelatory. Chart placement—peaking at No. 11 on Billboard’s Hot 100—is respectable but does little justice to the song’s longevity, with lower rankings in markets like Italy, France, and the UK highlighting its uneven immediate resonance. The reimagined version on “Tea for the Tillerman²” brings more texture, courtesy of Kwame Yeboah’s layered drumming and the melodic drift of Andreas Andersson’s clarinet, though these embellishments arguably round off some of its sharper edges of simplicity. Covers by Maxi Priest and Mr. Big reinterpret Stevens’ delicate original with mainstream accessibility, but their efforts feel commercially polished, losing its intimate sigh-in-the-dark appeal. The official re-release video by Effie Pappa leans heavily on narrative, which dilutes the song’s central ambiguity rather than enhancing it. While “Wild World” didn’t sweep awards, it remains nudged by the legacy of Stevens’ charitable work under initiatives like Peacetrain as a secondary echo of artistic significance. Ultimately, “Wild World” is more transient memoir than soaring anthem, a flickering reflection that quietly mirrors the fragility of human connections.
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7 . Papa Wemba . In Your EyesThe live rendition of “In Your Eyes” from Peter Gabriel’s “Secret World Live” embraces a rich interplay of cross-cultural textures without veering into territorial clichés. Filmed in Modena, Italy, in 1993, this version brings Congolese musician Papa Wemba on stage, whose vocals needle through the arrangement like a vibrant thread in an already intricate tapestry. Where the studio original from the 1986 album “So” allowed Youssou N’Dour’s voice to glide atop its closing moments, this performance breaks up the polish, layering Gabriel’s existential yearning with Wemba’s African vocal agility. The collaboration is less a duet and more a dialogue; Gabriel’s lyrical vulnerability meets Wemba’s celebratory timbre, creating tension that feels both theatrical and calming. Reddy Mela Amissi and Styno Mubi Matadi join as backing vocalists, amplifying the communal intensity without muddying the stark simplicity of the track’s emotional core. The familiarity of its life-affirming chorus—burnished by Peter Gabriel’s erudite songwriting—loses none of its resonance in the live setting, though it does strain against what could be described as slightly over-indulgent instrumentation at times. The song’s chart success in its original incarnation (a US Billboard Mainstream Rock Tracks No. 1 and a Hot 100 peak of 26) underscores its appeal, yet this live interpretation begs to stand on separate legs—less an extension of its Billboard glory and more a recasting for Gabriel’s globalist artistic agenda. If the restoration of “Secret World Live” gives this performance a fresh sheen, the sonic depth remains firmly rooted in its 1993 identity, Dolby mixes notwithstanding. While moments of Papa Wemba’s contributions feel slightly ornamental—less baked into the song’s scaffolding and more adorned like a postscript—they still offer a rare glimpse into Peter Gabriel’s curatorial instinct, splicing worlds without flattening their distinctions.
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8 . Laurie Anderson . This Is The Picture“Don’t Give Up” by Anggun may be worlds apart from “This Is the Picture (Excellent Birds)” in composition and context, but one can’t help but draw parallels in their collaborative ethos and thematic leanings. While Peter Gabriel and Laurie Anderson leaned into an Orwellian urgency birthed from a constrained timeframe, Anggun’s piece carries its own existential weight, albeit without the kinetic eccentricity of Paik’s Cocteau-inspired visuals. Anggun’s voice, much like Gabriel’s spectral presence in his 1986 “So” album closer, serves as the emotional keystone here. Yet where “This Is the Picture” finds an odd comfort in its staccato repetition—those verbal snapshots of “falling snow” darting like its titular excellent birds—Anggun opts for a smoother resolve. The thematic overlap lies in their shared pull toward resilience, transformation, and observation, though Anggun forgoes looming dystopia for a more personal battle cry. “Don’t Give Up” could be said to lack the vibrant, almost chaotic experimentation that Gabriel and Anderson embraced in a creative sprint—with its weeklong genesis culminating in an art piece that feels both rushed and charmingly frenetic. Perhaps that’s the dividing line; where “Excellent Birds” glides erratically through vivid imagery, Anggun prefers a linear path, trading deconstruction for melodic grounding. Chart ambitions like Gabriel’s “So,” topping UK and Canadian rankings while lingering comfortably on US Billboard, aren’t immediately evident in Anggun’s approach. Her voice is the spotlight, but the production lacks the layered textures that helped Gabriel’s collaborations (e.g., Kate Bush on “Don’t Give Up”) become enduring cornerstones. Without the spliced dissonance or delightfully fragmented rhythm, Anggun’s track feels polished to the point of taming its thematic tension—akin to sanding down visual edges in Paik’s reversed film experiment.
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9 . Angun . Don’t Give Up“This Is The Picture” by Laurie Anderson exists as a peculiar collaboration with Peter Gabriel, lacing her avant-garde sensibilities into a more rhythmic framework typically associated with Gabriel’s sonic palette. The track feels like a calculated push and pull, where her spoken-word delivery dances cautiously around a percussive groove. Anderson’s vocal choices often lean toward the clinical and detached, the perfect foil to Gabriel’s more emotionally textured input. Given its inclusion in sets like “The Concert United Against Malaria,” alongside names such as Peter Gabriel himself and Gilberto Gil, one wonders if her colder, art-forward style struck discord among audiences more accustomed to melodic accessibility. While Anderson’s tightly-wound delivery might not scream “universal appeal,” its inclusion alongside a lineup advocating humanitarian causes does highlight her place in frenetic, cerebral terrains of music adjacent to activism. Yet, the irony persists: the crowd, likely captivated by the earthy resonance of tunes like Gabriel and Anggun’s emotive “Don’t Give Up,” may have found Anderson’s aesthetic something of a jarring outlier. Essentially, “This Is The Picture” situates itself as both a study in intentional contrasts and a snapshot of two artistic approaches vying for cohesion.
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10 . Natalie Merchant & Michael Stipe . Red RainThe VH1 Honors performance of “Red Rain” is less a rendition and more a convergence of artistic gravitas and social consciousness. With Peter Gabriel sharing the stage alongside Michael Stipe of R.E.M. and Natalie Merchant, formerly of 10,000 Maniacs, the collaboration functions like a carefully stitched patchwork quilt—distinct voices blended to serve a singular message. Gabriel’s original composition remains at the core, a song loaded with brooding atmospherics and lyrics that drip with apocalyptic dread. Here, Stipe’s restrained baritone adds a spectral quality, counterpointed by Merchant’s emotive phrasing, which softens the angularity of Gabriel’s delivery. The context itself is a statement. Taking place during the VH1 Honors event aimed at benefiting Witness, a human rights organization founded by Gabriel, the performance feels weighted by more than just musical ambition—it’s tethered to the urgent call to document violations against humanity, brilliantly intersecting art and advocacy. Notably, the chemistry between Stipe and Merchant reflects years of professional alignment and mutual musical respect, dating back to their early ‘80s camaraderie. Yet, if there’s a critique to be made, it’s that the vocal interplay, while earnest, occasionally indulges in a kind of solemnity that veers too far into self-seriousness, pulling focus from the track’s dramatic propulsion. Even so, in its entirety, the performance elevates “Red Rain” beyond the sum of its parts—a fleeting moment where a song, an event, and a cause enter rare alignment.
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11 . Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan . Signal To Noise“Signal To Noise,” nestled within Peter Gabriel’s 2002 album “Up,” carries a dense weight belied by its polished veneer. The late Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan’s soaring vocals lend the track a gravitas that transcends its modern production, bridging sacred Qawwali tradition with Gabriel’s cinematic rock sensibilities. The track’s layers emerge gradually, building on Nusrat’s improvisational prowess, which Gabriel himself lauded for its near-architectural coherence. This is not a song of immediate hooks but one of patient immersion. Nusrat’s vocal runs feel almost like fault lines running through the sprawling instrumentation, creating tension and release in cycles that feel both organic and deliberate. Its early live renditions, notably at the 1996 VH1 Honours concert, highlight the fragile yet transformative partnership between the two artists. With Nusrat passing a year later, these performances gained an elegiac quality, both preserving and memorializing his voice at the height of its power. Gabriel’s willingness to yield space to such a distinct and dominating presence emphasizes his own interest in amplifying global music for Western palettes. And yet, for all its cultural ambition, the composition can feel weighed down by overproduction. Where Nusrat thrives in the fluctuating chaos of live improvisation, the studio-recorded version occasionally smooths over his jagged brilliance, hemming his vocal freedom into Gabriel’s meticulous sonic canvas. Nonetheless, the haunting interplay between the “signal” of Nusrat’s humanity and the “noise” of modern production speaks to Gabriel’s ever-present theme of human fragility amidst technological encroachment. Not flawless, but strikingly honest. B+
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12 . Tracy Chapman & Youssou N\’Dour . Seconds“7 Seconds,” a 1994 single, sparks intrigue as a multilingual collaboration between Youssou N’Dour and Neneh Cherry, not Tracy Chapman, despite her later live involvement with the track. The song, pulled from N’Dour’s album “The Guide: Wommat” and Cherry’s 1996 release “Man,” is a fascinating patchwork of cultural threads rather than a seamless duet. The composition, penned by N’Dour, Cherry, Cameron McVey, and Jonathan Sharp, takes an ambitious linguistic approach. N’Dour’s vocal lines in Wolof and French, juxtaposed with Cherry’s English verses, form a peculiar mosaic that alternates between poetic fluidity and awkward dissonance. While the tri-lingual delivery underscores the song’s theme of unity, it occasionally risks alienating listeners in its transitions. The title serves as a symbolic countdown to disillusionment—the “7 Seconds” of newborn innocence before life’s stark realities seep in. Yet, the metaphor’s weight is occasionally diluted by lyrics that teeter between universal profundity and generalized lament about prejudice and violence. The track attempts to tackle racism and hatred as learned constructs, but its moral messaging feels a touch didactic at times. Commercially, the song excelled, reigning atop charts in multiple nations, notably holding a record-breaking 16-week streak at number one in France. Such achievement seems fueled by its broad sonic appeal rather than pure lyrical finesse. Recorded at New York’s Power Play Studios, the production leans heavily on atmospheric minimalism, echoing a globalized ethos veering between poignant intimacy and an oddly glossy detachment. N’Dour’s live performances with Tracy Chapman, Dido, and others add layers of reinterpretation, cementing its status as a versatile performance piece, though some collaborations lack the cohesive energy of the original pairing with Cherry.
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