Poor Phil Collins appears to have been having a 2 Cor 3:6a moment in Rolling Stone, and it’s hard not to have compassion for (and maybe a little chuckle at) the guy, regardless of what you think of his music. He sounds like a defeated man, very much ready for 6b. Apparently Tyson’s drum solo in The Hangover did nothing to lift his spirits. And it’s really too bad they haven’t been able to get that Genesis reunion off the ground – it would go a long way in terms of restoring his cred. Not that fulfilling the Law of Hip would remotely help – it might be more a matter of, um, invisible touch:

In the summer of 1994, reports began circulating that Collins had informed his (second) wife that he wanted a divorce – via fax. He denied it vehemently, and the fax itself was never produced, but no matter: Suddenly, it was open season on the guy. Oasis’ Noel Gallagher started hammering on him any time he could, to uproarious effect. Among his choicest bon mots: “You don’t have to be great to be successful. Just look at Phil Collins.”… And so it’s gone, especially on the Internet, where I Hate Phil Collins sites have flourished. He gets criticized for everything. For his hair, for his height, for his pants (pleated khakis), for his shirts (tucks them in), for being “a shameless, smirking show hog.”

“I don’t understand it,” he says, looking pained. “I’ve become a target for no apparent reason. I only make the records once; it’s the radio that plays them all the time. I mean, the Antichrist? But it’s too late. The die is cast as to what I am.”

“When I say, ‘I’m going to write myself out of the script,’ I’m serious. When I say I’m stopping, and I don’t care about all this, I’m serious. I mean, I will write songs, and I will have fun making demos, but I may well not make another record. My deal with Atlantic is over with this Motown record. It’s sobering and quite liberating. Anyway, I’ve had enough of being me. Not to the point-” He pauses, and then he goes on, “I have had suicidal thoughts. I wouldn’t blow my head off. I’d overdose or do something that didn’t hurt. But I wouldn’t do that to the children. A comedian who committed suicide in the 60s left a note saying, ‘Too many things went wrong too often.’ I often think about that.”

“Everything has added up to a load that I’m getting tired of carrying,” he continues. “It’s gotten so complicated. It’s the three failed marriages, and having kids that grew up without me, and it’s the personal criticism, of being Mr. Nice Guy, or of divorcing my wife by fax, all that stuff, the journalism, some of which I find insulting. I wouldn’t say that I have suicidal tendencies over my career or bad press. They’re just another chink in the wall. It’s cumulative. You can say, ‘Grow up, man, everybody gets criticism.’ I know that. And I’ve philosophically adjusted to it. But does that make it any more pleasurable? No.”