The drummer Phil Collins goes to most: “I try to be that player in my performance”
It says everything you need to know about Phil Collins that barely anyone ever comes after his drumming abilities.
Like many across prog rock, Collins has been subjected to his share of criticism. Namely, he’s faced a lot of scrutiny for his contributions to Genesis, some even suggesting he was the nail in the coffin that changed them from a band you took seriously to one without a semblance of credibility. It might sound harsh, because it is, but these harsh strokes of slander rarely centre around his prowess as a drummer.
It’s easy to see why. There’s not a bad word to be said about it. It’s also a reason why, whenever he discusses his own influences or interests, there’s a lot of weight behind it. When Collins praises someone, you pay attention. Say what you want about him as a person and his position in music, but all of this proves that he’s no doubt a bloody good drummer, and the way he talks about his heroes only strengthens that fact.
And because of his journey, Collins has many. One such hero, shared by the likes of Gene Krupa and countless others, is Buddy Rich. In their view, Rich had a talent so tremendous it was like it was created by the high heavens themselves. There are countless reasons why people are still drawn to Rich for his percussionist abilities. His animalistic tendencies, for one. But with Collins, it was that inexplicable awe you feel whenever you’ve just witnessed greatness. The one that often comes with that all-important question, “How does he do that?”
Much of that thinking bled into Collins’ own approach. He might not be the sort of name that comes up immediately in conversations about percussionist heroes, but he’s certainly been studious enough to earn those places should they ever arrive. Because, more than anybody, Collins is the ultimate embodiment of that old mantra: study the greats and become greater.
This comes across the most whenever he finds himself facing a challenge. If he’s unsure or uncertain about where to start with a particular segment, he’ll put on different hats before he finds the answers. He has absorbed so many of his influences over time that it’s second nature. As he once explained, “When I’m playing a song I’ll often think about how another drummer might play it, and try to be that player in my performance of the song.”
He went on: “Often I’ll think, ‘How would Keith Moon play this?’ And I’ll don my Keith Moon hat. For another song I’ll think about John Bonham, or even on occasion, Stewart Copeland, but more often than any other drummer I think about Ringo [Starr].”
Interestingly, Collins has slipped in and out of phases where trying too hard to be someone else has taken its toll. In fact, in the early days of Genesis, he recalled trying to be too much like Billy Cobham, to his own detriment. He only realised that it had gone too far when he started to overdo it, at which point he tapped the brakes a bit and went back to the basics of his own technique and what he already knew.
But even still, having those handful of heroes constantly up his sleeve means he always has a failsafe whenever he experiences significant blockers. If he’s feeling fatigued or unsure, someone like Moon will appear like divine intervention, just to show him the way.
