“It didn’t sound like just guys playing on a stool — it sounded very powerful.”
The sound of leather struck by hand, bouncing through a hotel room microphone, was never meant to be music. But for Phil Collin and Chester, it became exactly that — a spark of rhythm that carried into their shows and into their memories. In a recent reflection, Phil opened up about how an ordinary stool turned into an unlikely instrument, and how that small experiment came to define a part of their bond.
A ritual that began with Chester
For Collin, the process had been around for as long as he could remember.
“Well, for as long as I can remember, I mean literally since Chester’s been in the band and we started doing his drum do,” he recalled. “It was the only way we found that we could do some work them out.”
These sessions rarely happened in rehearsal halls. Instead, they happened in hotel rooms, late at night, when the official work was done and inspiration still lingered.
“It was always done pretty late in rehearsal stages,” Phil explained. “Chester would come to my room, or I’d go to his, and we’d sit opposite each other and play opposite each other with a chair or a stool or whatever.”
It wasn’t polished, but it was real.
Recording, replaying, and trusting instinct
Each time, they would capture the raw rhythms, listen back, and dissect what worked.
“We would record it and we listened back to it and we’d say: that bit works. So what was that and what were you doing? And then we play it and then locate. Okay, I try to write it down in a way that we could remember.”
This became part of their touring rhythm. No matter where they were, Chester and Phil would carve out time to play, listen, and shape something new.
“Every tour we did that, and so this tour, we just started to apply the same kind of approach.”
The Brussels moment
On one tour stop in Brussels, the idea was almost abandoned. They left it late, unsure if they wanted to face the creative risk.
“I mean I was always left so last, because I didn’t think either of us really want to approach it, because we’re scared about what we’re going to do.”
But Chester pushed them forward.
“We started playing on this. You know, Chester set up my computer so we could record it. And we started playing on the stool, a leather stool, and it sounded… it sounded great.”
What they heard in playback was transformative.
“When we played it back with the compression of the microphone in the computer, Ashley said it very powerful. It didn’t sound like just guys playing on a stool.”
Breaking free without a script
That moment sparked a thought: what if they could do this live, without overthinking it?
“I remember saying, wouldn’t it be interesting if we could actually do this? You know, like, do what we’re doing now, and feel free enough to keep it loose, so that we have landmarks, but we don’t actually write it. You know, we don’t actually mentally remember everything.”
It was about freedom, not structure.
“Maybe I don’t, and he knows we’re going to change to something, or he does the same and we change. After playing so many years together… you instinctively know when someone’s going to do something.”
A bond built over decades
That instinct was not luck. It was built over decades of playing together, learning each other’s timing, and trusting each other completely.
“So the first day we did it even with one stool. You know the idea. Although it’s stomp territory, it is genuinely the way we’ve been doing it for like 30 years, Chester and I.”
The stool wasn’t a gimmick. It was an extension of how they had always created together — raw, improvised, and deeply connected.
Overcoming doubt
Of course, not everyone was convinced at first.
“Getting over that hurdle was kind of a big thing, getting the thumbs up. Because you know, it’s a little bit… if nobody had liked it, then I don’t think we would’ve ended up doing it. You’ve got to have people’s enthusiasm.”
But once the sound caught on, it was impossible to ignore. What started as tapping on furniture became part of the show’s DNA.
More than percussion
For Phil, the stool represented more than rhythm. It represented the courage to step outside the familiar, the willingness to experiment, and the trust that he and Chester shared.
“Some of them were very key, but some of them were rikki-tikki for the sake of it. Why don’t we just go back to groove, or intimacy? It doesn’t have to be a period piece.”
At its core, it was about stripping music back to its essentials — finding groove, intimacy, and connection in the simplest of sounds.
The lasting echo
Looking back now, the stool sessions stand as a powerful symbol. They remind us that music doesn’t always start with grand instruments or polished studios. Sometimes it begins with a stool in a quiet room, two friends daring to try, and a rhythm that feels alive.
“It is genuinely the way we’ve been doing it for like 30 years,” Phil said with quiet pride. “Just two guys, a stool, and instinct.”
And in that rhythm, Chester’s spirit remains.
