Phil Collins.
I love Phil Collins. I have defended him for years. Let’s break down his awesomeness.
First, there was Genesis. There were the Peter Gabriel years where he was just the drummer and backup vocalist. They were very esoteric and proggy and some might say boring as f*ck. Those “some” would include me. When Peter Gabriel left to go make his boring-ass music somewhere else, Phil was all like, hey, I can drum and sing at the same time because I am a robo-machine of radness. That’s when Phil Collins officially became cool. Duke and Abacab, baybee!
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m a prog nerd. Okay, I’m not completely a prog nerd because I can’t stand Yes, but I’m a girl so the prog people will accept me no matter what I say. “OMG A GIRL AT A DREAM THEATER CONCERT OMGOMGOMGOMG.” They won’t buy me drinks though because boobs are too intimidating.
ANYWAY.
Now, one might note that my love of Phil Collins completely encompasses the time Genesis “sold out,” or rather tempered their prog tendencies to draw a more mainstream audience. It’s not like they completely stopped using oddball time signatures or complex themes. On the contrary, they brought prog into pop coolness. How did this happen? Phil Collins. I mean, look at the guy. He’s just so happy looking. How can you not love whatever music he creates? It’s got to be good, oh Philly Phil, let me pinch your little cheeky-weeks. He’s the antithesis of “rock star;” you have to at least be interested in what’s going to come out of his mouth.
Let me get back to Duke. One of their best post-Gabriel albums, the singles “Misunderstanding” and “Turn It On Again” are memorable and quirky. The former is a very happy little tune accompanied by a very dark tale, while the latter takes wacky prog time signature madness and makes it mainstream. This was taken to a new level when the album Abacab was released and the title track managed to once again turn nerdiness into pop. It was with their eponymous next disc that they started jumping headlong into straight-up pop, but that’s where the fun begins.
Yes, I commend Genesis for being brilliant musicians and songwriters, particularly during their times of limited American success. But I also like Mr. Fun Happy Phil Collins, and 1981-1989 was alllllllll good.
On the Genesis side, there was “That’s All.” “Taking It All Too Hard.” Motherf*cking “Invisible Touch,” bitches. Hell, the entire Invisible Touch album is a pop-prog work of art. Don’t you bother to refute me because I don’t care what you think; “Land of Confusion,” “Tonight, Tonight, Tonight,” “In Too Deep”… goodness, all goodness.
On the solo side? Regardless of who you are or what kind of death metal you are into: one cannot deny “In The Air Tonight” as one of the greatest songs in existence. It is impossible to recreate, period. So completely different from anything on radio or anywhere else, it’s simply a haunting masterpiece. Even though he tried to put a bit of its dark air into “I Don’t Care Anymore,” it’s still singularly one of the greatest songs of the entire ’80s.
Never mind that Phil received a Grammy for Pop Album of the Year with No Jacket Required. “Sussudio,” “One More Night,” “Don’t Lose My Number,” and “Take Me Home” were stalwarts of ’80s radio; I have encountered many people who run down the best of the decade and try to bury Collins as some sort of embarrassment. Sorry, people. Yes, we have already established that this man is kind of goofy-looking, and not in a quirky/cool ’80s kind of way. Watching him is like watching your aging father trying to rock out. That doesn’t mean the music wasn’t chock full of pop sensibility mixed with R&B and just-plain-offbeat elements. Ignore the music videos and listen again.
His final quality disc, …But Seriously, spawned particularly memorable songs “I Wish It Would Rain Down” and the preachy “Another Day in Paradise.” In fact, it’s the latter that forecasted a dark shadow over what crappiness Phil Collins could become if he allowed himself to be struck from the land of oblivious pop. I won’t attack Both Sides but I’m not setting off fireworks over it either. But 1991’s We Can’t Dance, back with his cohorts in Genesis, definitely has its rough moments. (Although “No Son of Mine” and “Jesus He Knows Me” are pretty nifty, and the title track had a really cute video.)
As such, I refuse to defend Mr. Collins after 1990. “Dance Into The Light?” Dance into my asshairs, dorkmeister. Songs for Disney? Congratulations, you truly have become the goofy aging guy devoid of cool, matching your look.
But ’80s Phil Collins = da bomb. I deliberately chose that phrase for its out-of-date and out-of-place nature. ‘Cuz that’s Phil Collins. And that’s why I love him.
