6. Scratch (1978)

With the genre-hopping quirkiness of Car, Gabriel proved his artistic worth outside of Genesis. But that eclecticism often felt like restless muscle-flexing, as if he were simply trying out every whimsical impulse just to see what stuck. His sophomore effort is just as bizarre — venturing from the elastic 5/4 prog of “D.I.Y.” to the tender piano balladry of “Mother Of Violence” to the abstract funkiness of “A Wonderful Day In A One-Way World.” But this album feels cohesive in a way Car didn’t: The icy, introverted production (courtesy of King Crimson’s Robert Fripp) gives the album a warped sonic glue. Gabriel never made another album like this one — his vocals sound both sedated and scrappy, a far cry from the gravelly perfectionism he’d display on subsequent albums. It’s a difficult album in every sense of the word, but also a worthy investment.