Commentary

Alright. It has to be done. I’ve been telling my friends that I would use this platform at some point in an attempt to single-handedly redeem the career of the just-retired superstar Phil Collins. And that’s what I’m going to do.

I know what you’re saying. “One More Night?” I’ll agree that song is cheese. Several of his solo songs are cheese. Let’s have that in the open. Lots of cheese. And the way the poor guy looked in the eighties! Pinstripe pants, suspenders, male-pattern baldness? I know. I know.

What’s funny is that the more Phil Collins looked like an off-duty Wall Street so-and-so, the softer and more earnest his solo work became, the more successful he got. There was a time in the late eighties and early nineties, when I was just starting to take music seriously, when it seemed like the face of Phil Collins would soon appear on a large screen in every home in America, placidly lulling us to sleep with his talk of “Another Day in Paradise.”

If you’re still with me, I’d like to shake up that embarrassing image of a famous man at the height (or depth) of his career and offer instead the other Phil Collins: the experimental, unfettered musician who worked at the cutting edge of rock music.

Huh? you say.

Let’s start with the so-called Peter-Gabriel-era Genesis. During the first phase of Genesis’ prog-art period, the band auditioned several drummers, looking for someone who could handle a dozen different styles, numerous time changes, and still bring in fresh ideas of his own. They found their man in Collins, and he instantly became the glue that held together the virtuoso musicianship of Tony Banks, Mike Rutherford, and Steve Hackett. Soon rhythm became central to the driving sound of Genesis, and Collins helped set them apart from the pack with his impressive work on albums like “Nursery Cryme” and “Foxtrot,” even as he sang harmony for Gabriel—no small feat in itself.

The group outshone itself with the postmodern epic “The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway,” an album as experimental and arty as anything released by Bowie, Can, or Eno.

When Gabriel left the group, Collins moved to the vocalist position while still drumming in the studio. Largely, people think the band jumped directly from Gabriel’s time to pop albums like “Invisible Touch.” But this isn’t so. In fact, “Trick of the Tail” continues the experiments seen on “Lamb,” adding to them a new “we’re-the-prog-Beatles” sensibility that makes this album one of the best of the decade. The hard-to-find EP “Pigeons,” released now as a single on one of Genesis’ greatest hits collections, shows Collins’ skill as a drummer and craftsman as a pop vocalist come together in a way that by itself could change your mind about the fellow.

Musicians of the era looking for a drummer that could handle new, experimental forms for rock music called upon Collins in the studio. He drummed for John Cale, among others. But more importantly, he drummed for Brian Eno on incredible recordings like “Another Green Planet” and “Taking Tiger Mountain.” Some of the most forward-thinking albums of the seventies, yes, and with our soft-hearted banker’s name there in the liner notes.

During this period Collins also started a challenging jazz-rock fusion group that deserves attention. Brand X highlights Collins’ skill as a drummer on weird albums like “Moroccan Roll” and “Unorthodox Behaviour.”

Peter Gabriel’s third untitled solo album, featuring percussion-led tunes like “Games Without Frontiers,” “No Self Control,” and “I Don’t Remember” owe much to the drumming of Collins, whose experiments with the “gated drum” technique (as well as skipping out on cymbals) helped create a sparse new rhythmical sound that would define the eighties.

This sound is most apparent on Collins’ own first solo hit, “In the Air Tonight.” Listen to this song. Was there anything like it before? No. Is it totally awesome? Yes. Will we be listening to it decades from now? I’d bet we will.

As for the rest, some of eighties Genesis isn’t as bad as you think. Give it another listen. Remember that puppet video? And keep in mind the poor guy went through five or six divorces during the years he put out all those sad songs we associate him with—songs well-crafted and honestly-performed enough to warrant great respect in the R & B community, culminating in the not-joking-around tribute album “Urban Renewal.”

I think Collins got mashed up in the eighties like everyone else did. We forgave Bowie. Let’s give Phil a little forgiveness, too. After all, at least he didn’t record “Let’s Dance.”

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