At 19, he joined Genesis as their drummer. Five years later, the lead singer quit. They auditioned 400 replacements—then realized the drummer could sing. The world would never be the same.

THE TOY DRUM KIT

Christmas morning, 1956. Chiswick, London.

Five-year-old Philip David Charles Collins unwrapped a present that would change music history: a toy drum kit.

Most kids would bang on it for a week and move on. Phil Collins played along to every song on the radio and television. Obsessively. Relentlessly. By the time he was six, his uncle built him a real drum set. By ten, his parents bought him a proper kit.

But his mother, June, had other plans. She was a theatrical agent, and she saw talent in her youngest son that went beyond music. At age 13, Phil auditioned for the West End production of Oliver! and landed the role of the Artful Dodger—one of the most coveted parts in British theater.

He was brilliant. A natural performer with timing, charisma, and confidence. He even appeared as an extra in The Beatles’ A Hard Day’s Night in 1964, though his scene was ultimately cut.
His mother thought: This is it. He’ll be an actor.

His father, Greville, thought: Music is nice, but he needs a real job. Something stable. Insurance, maybe.

Phil thought: I just want to play drums.

At a Butlins talent contest when he was five, he’d stopped the orchestra mid-performance to tell them they were playing in the wrong key. Even then, music wasn’t just a hobby—it was everything.

Throughout his teenage years, Collins studied drum rudiments with teachers Lloyd Ryan and Frank King. He played in school bands—The Real Thing, The Freehold. He wrote his first song, “Lying Crying Dying,” as a teenager. In 1969, at 18, he joined a band called Flaming Youth and recorded an album called Ark 2.

The album flopped. The band dissolved within a year.

Collins was 19, frustrated, and scanning the pages of Melody Maker—the musicians’ bible—looking for his next gig.

THE AUDITION

Summer 1970.

An advertisement appeared in Melody Maker: “Drummer sensitive to acoustic music wanted for Genesis.”

Collins recognized the name of the band’s manager, Tony Stratton-Smith, from his previous music ventures. He showed up at the Marquee Club in London and asked directly if he could audition.

The audition was held at Peter Gabriel’s parents’ house in the countryside near Woking—a sprawling property with fields and a swimming pool. It was a hot summer day.

Collins and his friend, guitarist Ronnie Caryl, arrived early. Several drummers were ahead of him in line. While waiting, they were invited to swim.

This is where the story gets interesting.

While floating in the pool, Collins could hear the band rehearsing the same piece of music over and over with different drummers. He listened carefully, learning the parts, understanding the structure.

By the time it was his turn to sit behind the kit, he already knew the songs.

He nailed it.

Peter Gabriel later said he could tell just by the way Collins sat in front of the drum kit that he knew what he was doing. Mike Rutherford, the bassist, thought Collins was “immediately a huge lift” to the band.

On August 4, 1970, Phil Collins officially became the drummer for Genesis. He was 19 years old.

But he immediately noticed something: he was different from them.

Collins was a working-class kid from Chiswick who’d attended grammar school and stage school. The other members—Gabriel, Banks, Rutherford—were Charterhouse-educated public school boys. They looked like Beethoven with long hair. They spoke differently. They carried themselves differently.

And they were intense. Brutally so.

“In the middle of a conversation, suddenly someone would get up and slam a guitar on the floor and walk out,” Collins recalled years later.
But the music? The music was extraordinary.

THE DRUMMER YEARS

From 1970 to 1975, Phil Collins was just the drummer.

Well, “just” is unfair. He was an exceptional drummer—technical, creative, tasteful. He navigated elaborate song structures and complicated time signatures with ease. Albums like Nursery Cryme, Foxtrot, Selling England by the Pound, and The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway showcased his brilliant drumming.

Neil Peart of Rush called his work “beautiful drumming” and “lovely sound.” Dream Theater’s Mike Portnoy praised his “amazing progressive drumming.” Foo Fighters’ Taylor Hawkins said, “Collins is an incredible drummer. Anyone who wants to be good on the drums should check him out—the man is a master.”

Collins also sang backing vocals and occasionally took lead on songs like “More Fool Me.” But Peter Gabriel was the voice of Genesis—theatrical, dramatic, the face of the band with his elaborate costumes and stage presence.

Then, in 1974, Gabriel dropped a bomb: he was leaving after the tour for The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway ended in 1975.

THE SEARCH

The band panicked.

Peter Gabriel wasn’t just their singer—he was their identity. Finding a replacement felt impossible.

They auditioned 400 singers. Four hundred.

Some were technically proficient but lacked stage presence. Some had presence but couldn’t handle the complex progressive rock compositions. Some just didn’t fit.

Months passed. The band was on the verge of breaking up.

Then someone suggested: “What about Phil?”

Collins was reluctant. Terrified, even. He didn’t want to be the frontman. He was the drummer—comfortable behind the kit, happy to let someone else take center stage.
“I’m a drummer,” he said. “That’s what I do.”

But they convinced him to try.

In 1976, Genesis released A Trick of the Tail—their first album with Collins as lead vocalist. The band hired drummer Bill Bruford (later replaced by Chester Thompson) to play drums on tour while Collins sang.

The album was a critical and commercial hit.

And something unexpected happened: Collins was good. Really good. He brought a different energy than Gabriel—less theatrical, more emotionally direct. His voice was warm, powerful, accessible.

The doubters were silenced.

THE TRANSFORMATION

Over the next decade, Genesis evolved from progressive rock pioneers into a mainstream pop-rock powerhouse.

Albums like Duke (1980), Abacab (1981), and Invisible Touch (1986) produced massive hits. “Follow You Follow Me” became their first UK Top 10. “Invisible Touch” became their only US #1 single.

But Collins wasn’t just focused on Genesis.

In 1981, while going through a painful divorce, he recorded his first solo album, Face Value. He produced it with Hugh Padgham, and it included a song called “In the Air Tonight”—a brooding, emotional track with one of the most iconic drum breaks in music history.

That drum fill—that drum fill—became instantly recognizable. When it hits at 3:40 in the song, the world stops.

Face Value went to #1 in the UK and sold 5 million copies in the US.

Suddenly, Phil Collins wasn’t just the drummer-turned-singer of Genesis. He was a solo superstar.

Throughout the 1980s, Collins dominated the charts. “Against All Odds.” “One More Night.” “Sussudio.” “Another Day in Paradise.” Between 1982 and 1990, he had more US Top 40 singles than any other artist.

He won eight Grammy Awards. Six Brit Awards. An Academy Award for “You’ll Be in My Heart” from Disney’s Tarzan. He became one of only three artists—along with Paul McCartney and Michael Jackson—to sell over 100 million records both as a solo artist and as a member of a band.

On July 13, 1985, Collins did something no other artist has ever done: he performed at both Live Aid concerts—playing at Wembley Stadium in London, then flying on the Concorde to Philadelphia to perform at JFK Stadium the same day. He played his solo set, drummed for Eric Clapton, and reunited Led Zeppelin for a historic performance with Robert Plant and Jimmy Page.

THE RELUCTANT STAR

But through it all, Collins remained uncomfortable with fame.

He never wanted to be the frontman. He never sought the spotlight. He was happiest behind the drums, playing for the music, not the adoration.

“I never really wanted to be a singer,” he admitted years later. “I just wanted to play drums.”

Yet he became one of the most recognizable voices of the 1980s—a decade defined by his music.

In 1996, Collins left Genesis to focus on his solo career. He continued recording, touring, and collaborating with artists like Quincy Jones, Eric Clapton, and Tina Turner.

But his body eventually gave out. Years of drumming—the repetitive motion, the physical strain—took their toll. By the 2000s, Collins developed nerve damage in his hands and a spinal injury that made drumming impossible.

In 2011, he announced his retirement from music. “I really don’t belong in that world anymore,” he said.

But retirement didn’t last.

In 2017, Collins returned with the “Not Dead Yet” tour—named after his autobiography. Five nights at London’s Royal Albert Hall sold out in 15 seconds. What was supposed to be a short European tour became a 97-concert world tour.

He couldn’t play drums anymore—his son, Nic, took over the sticks—but he could still sing. And people still wanted to hear that voice.

In 2021, Genesis reunited for “The Last Domino?” tour—their final tour together. Collins sat throughout the show, his health failing, but his voice still powerful.
It was a farewell—not just to touring, but to an era.

THE LEGACY

Phil Collins never set out to be a star.

He was the kid who just wanted to play drums. The teenager who chose music over acting, despite his mother’s hopes. The 19-year-old who answered an ad in a magazine and ended up changing the sound of rock music.

He was the reluctant frontman who stepped up when his band needed him, even though he was terrified. The drummer who became one of the most successful singers of all time—despite never really wanting to be a singer at all.

His drumming inspired generations of musicians. His songs defined a decade. His voice became the soundtrack to millions of lives.

And all of it started with a toy drum kit on Christmas morning, 1956, and a five-year-old boy who couldn’t stop playing.

Phil Collins has been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame with Genesis. He’s been inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame. He’s ranked #43 in Rolling Stone’s 100 Greatest Drummers of All Time. He’s been inducted into both the Modern Drummer Hall of Fame and the Classic Drummer Hall of Fame.

But perhaps the most remarkable thing about Phil Collins is this: he achieved all of it by simply doing what he loved, even when it scared him. Even when he didn’t think he was good enough. Even when he just wanted to stay behind the drums and let someone else take the spotlight.

Sometimes the people who change the world are the ones who never meant to.

Sometimes the greatest stars are the ones who never wanted to shine.

Phil Collins. Drummer. Singer. Accidental icon.

The man who proved that sometimes, the person you’re looking for has been there all along—sitting behind the drums, waiting for someone to notice.