Hall of Shame: Phil Collins – Face Value (1981)

Still can’t get his face out of my mind. All these years later. I can still see him there… Daring me to react. It’s personal.

Throughout the 1980s and into the 90s you could depend on only two things in the United States: A foreign policy of relentless military intervention into the affairs of sovereign nations across the globe, and the endless parade of Genesis and Phil Collins‘ solo albums hoisted on the population. A combined total of nearly 12 albums were realized between 1980 and 1996. That’s a lot of blank faces. While the horror actually began in 1979 with the first two Collins fronted Genesis records. But for me, it was the release of Phil’s first solo album, Face Value, in February 1981. Right there on the album sleeve: Phil’s big, sweaty face. Staring intensely. Just the thought of it still has the power to disturb. It’s been said the if you stare directly into the cover as it’s reflected into a mirror, you can see the face of Satan as he sings A Groovy Kind of Love.  

Unfortunately, the sleeve was only the beginning of this bland, tasteless, and vanilla negation of music. This worthless slab was an important part of the reason that mainstream music of the eighties has earned such a reputation for banality. Let us place the blame & guilt at the feet of Mr. Phil Collins. Covered in sweat. Bland and pointless.   

We should be clear – it’s not only the Face Value album that I rage over! It’s the entire tragic disography, which ranks among the lowest ever released. I loath each title. And because Genesis wasn’t quite contemptible enough, Phil decided to drop solo albums between band sessions. The rotation of albums was an endless nightmare. 

Worse still? The public ate them up and bought an estimated total of 150 million albums worldwide, if that is even conceivable. It raises the obvious question: Who are these people? And is some government agency keeping an eye on them?     

As a matter of fact, the only useful purpose I can imagine for a Genesis record is that the band-project prevented and slowed down Mr. Collins from releasing additional solo albums, with even more pictures of his giant perspiring face decorating the sleeves. Small mercy.

Typically at this point in a polite pub conversation, some beady-eyed progressive rock fan would come back with a quick jab about Mr. Collins’ brillant technical skill as a drummer. Let me be blunt – I really couldn’t care less. And I immediately conceded that old Phil would likely dominate the opinion polls in “Boring Prog-Percussion Magazine”. Along with other members of this exclusive breed.  That’s you, Mr. Carl Palmer. Spectacular 45 minute drum solos do not impress. And they certainly do not pump any venom into the silky-smooth and meaningless music being considered.  

Simply put, the Phil Collins catalogue is devoid of anything interesting, challenging or important to say or hear. Boring textures, muted colors and homogenized sound are the bench marks here.  You want me to be specific? Try “I Missed Again” , “I Don’t Care Anymore” or ,”I Don’t Wanna Know”. For God’s sake people. This is a man spelling it out for us!  Trying to go through this album track-by-track would be a pointless and foolish endeavor. The tedium of listening to an entire album side from Face Value is an effort that I shall never endure. But let me explain why.   

As a teenager I was so often forced to listen to the trash coming out of the radio that my tolerance is incredibly low. Much of this nonsense provided by Mr. Collins.

This is no rant. I take it all very personally. This is the man who robbed a generation a valuable radio time. Weeks, months and years are owed to an entire generation. Just imagine all the talented and interesting artists that could’ve been played. Phil Collins robbed a generation of a valuable teenage angst and meaningful rebellion. Attempting to thwart the discovery of punk and metal. Surely, Collin’s should serve a John Lydon’s man-servant for the remainder of his days.  These are high crimes!  

Excessive? It’s important to note that during the height of his reign Phil Collins not only created music with Genesis and on his own but also polluted the airwaves with his “production style“ for other artists. As if enduring Eric Clapton’s “authentic” guitar playing wasn’t bad enough. Add to that the bland 80s soft rock production style of Mr. Collins and you have a truly an interesting piece of shit. The smell of which still pollutes my nostrils even today. 

And it wasn’t just the legendary Eric Clapton. Other artists fell under the aroma. After all, who can forget the stench of Easy Lover by Philip Bailey? This toxic sound of human waste took up hundreds of hours on MTV throughout the summers of ’84 and ’85.  It makes me gasp just thinking about it. Particularly, considering the soulful music created during Bailey’s tenure with Earth, Wind and Fire. And the track was given a second life on Phil’s solo live-album, Serious Hits…Live. That’s right! You read that correctly, “Serious Hits”!  It’s as if Collin’s wanted to rub our noses in it. Taunting me with this album title. Pure madness. 

Or as our publisher / editor at Vinyl Writers so eloquently states –  “It’s fucking me up. Surreal“. 

by Shawn Ciavattone