Music + Travel

When I Hear Phil Collins, I Think of Jamaica

It’s an odd combination, but bear with me

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Back at the turn of the millennium, and when I wore a younger man’s clothes, I lived in Jamaica. That was the first time, and about 20 years later, there would be a second.

The second time was a comfortable existence, but the first time around, I was running on financial fumes.

I lived in a town in the centre of the island called Mandeville, where I coached swimming in the late afternoons and volunteered at the local private school in the earlier part of the day. For about a week, it became a part-time job, and a week after that, I was full-time.

I think I made about $800 USD a month. I wasn’t complaining.

I was neither starving nor living large. It was right where I wanted to be at 25.

Mandeville is a lovely place with cool breezes thanks to its higher elevation. But it was not exactly a hotbed of excitement, especially on weekends, when there was neither school nor swimming to keep my idle hands occupied.

Weekends were for exploring the island. But at that wage, a car was not in the cards. Public buses that were packed tight and careened around the highways and byways of the country were one, and sometimes the only option. But they seemed to be always driven by someone with a different relationship to fear than I had.

I also fell in with a few Australians who were working as engineers at the bauxite mine that drove the local economy. They were good for a few Red Stripe-sized weekend adventures, too.

But every now and again, I was able to borrow a car from a colleague at the school.

That car had exactly one cassette tape in it: the greatest hits of Phil Collins, simply titled Hits, which came out in 1998. And they were all hits. Every last one of the 16 songs on it would be instantly recognizable to anyone who listened to popular music in the 1980s.

I played it over and over again. I can’t say I was ever a huge fan of Genesis or his solo work — though I can appreciate both now — but if you grew up in that decade and were obsessed with music, you couldn't escape him. And if his solo output wasn’t enough for you, he threw in five albums with Genesis in the 80s as well.

His voice was, quite seriously, everywhere.

Everywhere but Jamaica. No matter where you go in Jamaica, then and still, there is always reggae or dancehall playing, often loudly. Bob Marley is unquestionably the country’s biggest and greatest cultural export. In the 45 years since his death, the anniversary of which was just the other day, he remains a true icon. His presence still casts a very long shadow and is felt everywhere.

Reggae music fits the vibe of the place, at least on the surface.

Phil Collins does not.

He is responsible for probably some of the whitest music ever made, I’d argue. Unfunky, ungritty, highly produced, and far too slick for an unslick place like Jamaica. And yet, Phil just fit into some of those road trips for me.

Mandeville to Montego Bay on the north coast was about three hours on a good day. There was no direct route, but I really got to see the countryside. Since the tape clocked in at 74 minutes, I could easily get through it twice. Kingston, the capital city on the southeast coast, was closer, and that tape was enough to get me there.

There were 16 songs on that tape. Here are the 9 standouts that instantly put me in another time and place whenever they cross my ears these days:

***Another Day in Paradise* (…But Seriously, 1989)** Always an appropriate way to start. The song’s message was about our ability to ignore poverty, but the title said it all. For me, anyway, before being a privileged expat in the developing world became an internet meme, it was a paradise for me.

***Easy Lover* (Chinese Wall, 1984)** Epic drumming in a hard-charging duet with the singer from Earth, Wind, and Fire. As a matter of fact, air drumming to the signature Collins’ sound was a pleasure best shared with the world. This was best enjoyed when the road from Mandeville would go from two lanes to a four-lane dual carriageway (their words), between Spanish Town and Kingston.

***You Can’t Hurry Love* (Hello, I Must Be Going, 1982)** A Supreme’s cover, a supreme cover. Over in less than three minutes, pure chewing satisfaction. Like it was a jerk chicken meal.

[embed]It Wasn’t Just the Jerk Chicken But that was one of the best parts of living in Jamaicamedium.com

***Against All Odds* (Motion Picture Soundtrack, 1984)** An absolute cinematic tear jerker that can only be belted out at the top of one’s lungs. Take a look at me now, driving around in the Blue Mountains, concentrating around hairpin turns with room for one vehicle.

***Something Happened on the Way to Heaven* (…But Seriously, 1989)** A peppy, easily air-drummed tune, best played just coming into Negril on a late Friday afternoon, in anticipation of a weekend of beachside antics.

***One More Night* (No Jacket Required, 1985)** (Busy signal). Slow it down and then pair it with a sunset, just about anywhere on the island. And just to complete the connection, Jamaican Dancehall artist, Busy Signal, covered it in 2010.

***Sussudio* (No Jacket Required, 1985) **The horn section on this song always got to me. Just say the word….oh…Su-su-sudio. It can’t help but make you smile, like a few splashes of Appleton 15 Year Old Rum in a glass with no ice cube.

***In The Air Tonight* (Face Value, 1981)** Speaking of air drumming, probably one of the most famous drum breaks ever created. The road from the south coast at Alligator Pond to the main highway is dark at night, and the cane fields on either side are higher than the car. High beams on, this is the song I wanted for that moment.

***Take Me Home* (No Jacket Required, 1985) **The video shows our Phil at different spots in the world. I felt like Phil sometimes, seeing the world, being out in it. Like a bit of a rock start at times. Champagne wishes and caviar dreams on a Bottle of Ting budget. This is the one that was in the headphones when the plane took off from Kingston Norman Manley International and the Caribbean Sea spread itself out below.

Just over 20 years later, I found myself living in Jamaica again, this time in Kingston. Expat life provided a lot of the bells and whistles that privilege made available to me, that weren’t for the average Jamaican.

And one of them was a vehicle of my own, in which I covered as many nooks and crannies of the island as possible.

Phil wasn’t coming to me via a worn out cassette tape anymore. Rather, his voice and music came from the song library on my phone, which was plugged into the car’s speakers.

Things changed, life took me in a few different directions, and I eventually left Jamaica again. But Phil Collins was always there. And who knows, Jamaica might be again, one day in the future.

We can debate this guy's legacy until the cows come home. Some will love him, some will hate him. It’s really neither here nor there.

Memory is shaped by senses, I find. It could be a smell, a taste, ora person. But for me, Jamaica and Phil Collins are an incongruous sensation of sound and place that I can’t seem to shake.

Nor would I ever want to.

Good as it gets / image by author.