Phil Collins has a habit of putting close-ups of his mug on all of his album covers. It always seemed kind of cheesy to me—but if this was the cover of his new album I’d so fuckin’ buy it just so that I’d have something to listen to while they wheeled me into the mental institution.
Those of you who know me know that I outgrew pop music almost twenty years ago, back when I discovered Rush and, conversely, The Moody Blues. But I never gave up on my old Genesis CDs, the ones where Phil played drums and Peter Gabriel sang vocals and danced around in grotesque costumes shaped like giant tumors and creepy old men. That always gave Phil some cred: He was able to keep the beat while a lactating Slipperman danced around in front of him. So, reading a Phil Collins interview (like the one in Mail Online, May, 2010) from time to time isn’t totally unjustified, because even though I personally haven’t listened to “Sussudio” since cassette tapes were the shit, it’s still interesting to see where the various roots from the Genesis tree have spread over the eons.
Phil Collins may not be cool, but he sure is evil…and in a way that’s cool. In a way.