On a warm June night in 2004, the air inside Paris’ Palais Omnisports de Bercy carried a rare kind of anticipation. Thousands had gathered for what Phil Collins himself had teasingly branded as his “Finally… The First Farewell Tour.” The promise was clear: a retrospective journey through one of pop music’s most enduring voices and drummers. But when the lights dimmed for DVD 1, Track 1 — “Drums, Drums & More Drums” — the crowd realized they were about to witness something far more than nostalgia.
This was not just a concert opener. It was a declaration.
A Stage Set for Rhythm, Not Words
When the first spotlight hit the stage, there was no microphone at center, no soaring ballad, no familiar chorus. Instead, three drum kits gleamed under the lights, lined up like warriors preparing for battle. At the heart of it all sat Phil Collins, no longer just the soft-voiced hitmaker of “Against All Odds” or “In the Air Tonight,” but the raw, relentless drummer who first won the world’s attention as a member of Genesis.
The crowd roared as Collins lifted his sticks, flashing a grin that suggested both mischief and mastery. And then came the opening strikes — sharp, precise, and chest-rattling. The arena shook with rhythm before a single lyric had been sung.
A Dialogue in Percussion
What unfolded over the next several minutes was not simply a drum solo — it was a conversation in rhythm. Collins was joined by percussionist Chester Thompson and long-time collaborator Luis Conte, forming a trio that turned Bercy into a thunderous percussion temple.
The three traded phrases like jazz musicians locked in improvisation, each daring the other to push harder. At times it was playful, with syncopated beats bouncing across the stage like banter between old friends. At others, it was primal, with pounding toms and explosive cymbals that echoed like heartbeats racing through the Paris crowd.
Every strike seemed to say: this is the core of who I am — before the ballads, before the radio, before the fame.
The Dual Identity of Phil Collins
For casual fans, Phil Collins was the voice of soft rock anthems — a man whose songs narrated heartbreak and resilience, from “One More Night” to “You’ll Be in My Heart.” But “Drums, Drums & More Drums” reminded everyone of his other identity: Collins, the percussionist, who came alive in rhythm more than in melody.
It was a reminder that long before he sold out arenas as a solo act, Collins was a drummer’s drummer. His work with Genesis had already cemented him as one of rock’s most inventive percussionists, capable of fusing rock power with jazz sophistication. And in Paris, in 2004, he reclaimed that identity with fire.
The Audience: Stunned into Silence, Then Thunderous Applause
For much of the performance, the audience at Bercy sat in reverent silence — not the awkward silence of disengagement, but the stunned awe of thousands watching a master in his element. Every roll across the snare, every crash of the cymbal was met with widened eyes and clenched fists.
And when Collins finally stood from his kit, sweat glistening on his brow, the silence exploded into a roar. The applause was deafening, a mixture of gratitude and disbelief. In that moment, the French audience wasn’t just cheering a pop icon. They were acknowledging one of the greatest drummers of his generation.
More Than an Opener
What makes this performance unforgettable is that it set the tone for the entire concert. By opening with rhythm rather than melody, Collins was reminding his audience of something essential: his artistry went beyond the chart-toppers and the Grammy wins. It was rooted in something older, something raw, something elemental.
As he walked from the drum kit toward the microphone for the next number, there was a visible shift in the atmosphere. The audience wasn’t just waiting for “Another Day in Paradise” anymore — they were ready for a journey through Collins’ full musical identity, from the thunder of drums to the softness of lullabies.
A Legacy in Sticks and Skins
Looking back, “Drums, Drums & More Drums” stands as one of the purest distillations of Collins’ genius. It bridged his two worlds — the pop balladeer and the percussion virtuoso — into a single unforgettable statement.
Even now, nearly two decades later, the recording still feels alive. Watch it on DVD, and you’ll find yourself transported into that Parisian arena, feeling the ground tremble as sticks meet skin. It’s more than music — it’s heartbeat, breath, and fire.
Closing Thoughts
Phil Collins may have joked about farewells in 2004, but in Paris that night, he gave his fans something that needed no encore. “Drums, Drums & More Drums” wasn’t just a concert opener. It was a reminder of who he truly is: a musician whose soul speaks loudest through rhythm.
In a career defined by chart success and iconic melodies, this performance endures as one of the clearest, rawest statements of Collins’ artistry. Long after the last note faded, the echo of those drums still rang in the hearts of everyone at Bercy.
And perhaps that is the true magic of Phil Collins: when the drums speak, the world listens.
