Phil Collins may still be physically restricted, having been through the wringer in recent years, but at 75, clad in casual black, he exudes positivity. He’s approachable and friendly – every inch the “bloke next door” of his popular persona. “I’ve been blessed with this career, y’know?” he says. “Hard work, but that goes without saying. I wouldn’t have done anything else, or anything differently. The whole trip has just been a pleasure.”
Prog wonders if it was sometimes so hectic that he couldn’t take a breath. “Oh, I always appreciated it,” he replies. “Mainly because I was doing what I wanted to do. I didn’t know much about Genesis when I joined, apart from the fact that they were working. To me, just joining a band that was busy was hitting the jackpot. Playing every night!
“It was never a road to somewhere, or about building up a reputation – I’d probably have done it without getting paid, as long as I could live. So it all worked out incredibly well. I look back and my life’s been just a dream.”
Is it true you began playing on a toy drum at the age of five?
Oh yeah. It’s funny, you see that thing over there? [He points to a tiny plastic drum kit on a shelf.]That’s Lily’s daughter’s. My granddaughter. She’s one-and- a-half, and Lily said, “She’s going around at home hitting things, especially when we play your songs. So get her a drum kit for her birthday?” And that’s what was age-appropriate. So yeah, it’s running in the family – hitting things!
Now, my toy drum: I can picture it. I was three or four actually. I spoil my kids, but in those days you got one toy for Christmas. A soldier. A ball. Ha – yeah, an orange in a stocking. But I was given a drum – no idea why.
These friends of the family saw I liked the toy so much, they made a better one out of bits of wood and brass with a tambourine, cymbal and triangle on it. I’d play along to the telly – Sunday Night At The London Palladium, that kind of thing.
It was always music for me, really. I never went through the childhood phases of racing driver, fireman, pilot…
Weren’t you a keen footballer?
Yeah, but I think I was enthusiastic more than good. Growing up in Hounslow [in west London] I’d go and see Brentford: I’d even go and watch them training at the old ground, Griffin Park. QPR when I got older. But my idol was Jimmy Greaves.
And you got into acting…
When I was 13 years old there was no pop industry really, or it was just starting: The Beatles’ Please Please Me was the first album I bought. Then The Beatles caught fire. Lonnie Donegan was probably the first sign – skiffle and all that. I’d play along to his 78s.
My sister went out with him for a while. He came to our house one Sunday and watched me play. But I was too young to go on the road with him. I wouldn’t have been allowed in the chicken-and- scampi clubs!
Anyway, music wasn’t a “job” then. Mum was answering the phones at this drama school so she got me a place there. Yes, I got to play the Artful Dodger, but I just wanted to play drums.
Later I did enjoy acting – I liked making Buster and other things. Did I use my acting lessons when I became a frontman? Hmm, only maybe some things I did without thinking about it.
You and Genesis were from very different backgrounds, yet as soon as you sat behind the kit in the audition they knew you were the guy.
Apparently! So they’ve said. It was just Tony, Peter and Mike (By the way, I’m seeing Mike today – he’s coming by later). Mike’s always said that when Anthony Phillips, the unsung hero, left because he couldn’t take the stress, they thought that was the end of the band. But they carried on. They thought they could get a better drummer, I believe, than John Mayhew, who was on Trespass.
They were public school boys and I was from the drama school where you could get away with murder
I didn’t know all this background dynamic; I had just seen their name a lot in the back of Melody Maker. I knew Tony Stratton- Smith, their manager, since I’d been about 16 and he was managing The Creation.
I went down to the Marquee bar one night to see if he could put in a word for me with Genesis. He said, “Oh, I’d love to, but I’m afraid they’re very fussy, these guys – you’ll have to audition.” So I went along and here we are today!
Yes, they were public school boys, and I was from the drama school where you could get away with murder. In their school they weren’t allowed to own a guitar. At mine, I’d bring my records in and we’d play Sgt. Pepper or Motown or The Byrds’ Younger Than Yesterday. The teacher would say, “Are you sure you can hear me talk at the same time as this music is on?” We’d say, “Oh sure…!”
Every now and then, a band bursts out of the local circuit with the kind of sonic swagger that leaves your ears ringing and your jaw firmly pinned to the floor. If you haven’t crossed paths with Melbourne’s own theatrical rock powerhouse NECKO yet, you’re about to get a rude, blues-drenched awakening. Dubbed by some […]
