"That's All" The Funk Phil Can Muster AKA If You're Going To Be Extorted By Your Drug Dealer in Alberquerque, Might As Well Make A Hit Single Out Of It

There are those who dare label Phil Collins "soft rock," "MOR," "Adult Contemporary" - even today! But a little Genesis number from 1983 called "That's All" would beg to differ. Yeah, that's right. If a song could talk, "That's All" would say, "Feel the Phil Collins Phunk, y'all!"

Just listen to those opening bars, as our boy lays down an odd two-step "oom-pah" rhythm while Tony Banks pounds out a spidery groove on the keys. And dare I say it, but Phil actually manages to sound a little "black" without completely embarrassing himself, shifting from his usual croon to a nasty snarl right after the first bridge ("So why does it awwwwl-ways seem to be/Me lookin' at you, you lookin' at me/It's always the saaayme, it's just uh shame, that's awww-all"). Damn, brother! Dude doesn't let up either, quickly transitioning to "Turnin' me on! Turnin' me off" as he kicks the drums into a higher gear. Phil Collins sounds ... kind of pissed!

I mean, as pissed as Phil Collins can get. He might spill coffee on the back seat of your Lexus, maybe. But as '80s Genesis songs go, "That's All" is probably the toughest, meanest, leanest of them all. It's a "relationship" song that's somehow free of Phil's patented self-pity or whiny despair. It's almost caustic, spiteful perhaps, but quietly so. It's sort of a "fuck you," but with a sigh. Even if you hate the living snot out of Phil Collins, I mean, come on, you have to at least give the man "That's All."

It wasn't just the phunk turning Phil pseudo-aggressive. Like a surprising but perhaps not-so-surprising number of '80s hits, "That's All" was also a band's attempt to sound like the Beatles. From Wikipedia: "The song was intended as an attempt to write a simple pop song with a melody in the style of the Beatles. Phil Collins acknowledged in a subsequent interview that the song also features one of his attempts at a 'Ringo Starr drum part'." Of course, only a fellow drummer would know what the hell a "Ringo Starr drum part" would sound like. I am the biggest Beatles fan in the Western Hemisphere, but honestly, a Ringo Starr drum part would just sound like low-key, sneakily imaginative, no-frills drumming - which I suppose is what Phil employs on "That's All," so ... congratulations?

In the spirit of the 1964-1965 era Beatles, the lyrics paint a portrait of a man in a relationship he doesn't seem to enjoy but can't quite bring himself to escape, a la Lennon's "I'll Be Back" or "Girl." Like Ringo's drumming, these lyrics manage to be get the job done without seeming particularly novel. The vocals aren't even very high in the mix, and almost feel like another instrument - an instrument, that is, of sheer Collins brutality:

Just as I thought it was going alright
I find out I'm wrong, when I thought I was right
S'always the same, it's just a shame, that's all
I could say day, and you'd say night
Tell me it's black when I know that it's white
Always the same, it's just a shame, that's all

I could leave but I won't go
Though my heart might tell me so
I can't feel a thing from my head down to my toes
So why does it always seem to be
Me looking at you, you looking at me
It's always the same, it's just a shame, that's all

Turning me on, turning me off
Making me feel like I want too much
Living with you's just putting me through it all of the time
Running around, staying out all night
Taking it all instead of taking one bite
Living with you's just putting me through it all of the time

Truth is I love you
More than I wanted to
There's no point in trying to pretend
There's been no one who
Makes me feel like you do
Say we'll be together til the end

Notice also how "That's All" doesn't really have a chorus, but sort of a long series of verses and two completely different bridges ("I could leave but I won't go" and "Truth is I love you more than I wanted to"), both of which I imagine are fighting a brutal cage match to the death in the quest to establish which one of them is catchier.

Finally, at 3:28, Phil lets out a concluding, defeated "that's all" and switches the drumming to a kind of anti-climactic double time. It's like, "I was really getting ready to kick your ass, woman, but I guess it'll have to wait for another day." Mike Rutherford then starts doing his best Bobby Womack impression on guitar while Phil devolves into baby talk, most impressively at 4:00 with "Whah-Ho!" You'll get yours yet, Sexy Sadie, however big you think you are.



The video, at least on the surface, appears to be another fine example of early '80s hobo chic (see also Taco's "Puttin' On The Ritz"), with the three band members eking out a Depression-era existence in an abandoned tenement, huddling around a fire (presumably made out of scrapwood and dismantled furniture?) for precious warmth, playing poker to pass the time (I'll bet Phil is losing), and cooking up a gourmet pot of gruel for sustenance. However, as it turns out, this was no fanciful dramatization. From In The Air Tonight:

I hadn't heard from Julio in a while - the Cuban janitor, you know, the one who got me started on the "Golden Jockey," as I liked to call it. When he started jerking me around, haggling over prices, threatening blackmail if I didn't pay up, I started going to other guys. So while on tour with Genesis in the Southwest, I got a postcard from Julio: "New mix of jugo de caballo. Best stuff you ever had. Meet me at warehouse outside Alberquerque." Pain though he was, Julio knew his stuff. I decided it was worth a shot.

We parked the tour van out back. I figured it might be a couple of hours. We brought some instruments inside, and a camera, and a deck of cards - you never know when a deck of cards will come in handy on the road. So we're sitting around, jamming, sharing dirty limericks, when a white dove flies into the warehouse with a message taped to it. "Collected the tour van to cover your debts. Pay up now or your van stays with me. Buenas tardes - Julio."

"That bastard! That rat fucking bastard!"

"What's the matter, Phil?"

"They stole our tour van. The son of a bitch stole our tour van! It's a total extortion job. Whatever. I guess I better pay up."

"Phil, you know, I hate to say it, but your horse tranquilizer addiction is becoming a bit of a problem."

"Problem? What problem?"

"It's always one thing after another. We almost got knifed at a jungle gym in Amarillo, then there was that one-eyed Malaysian guy at that McDonald's in Vegas ... it's not good for the band, Phil, you're losing control."

"Losing control? I can quit this shit whenever I feel like it, all right? Not good for the band? How do you think I keep writing all this awesome fucking music, OK? I'll tell you what's good for the band. Julio just keeps dicking me around, doing the same old shit, that's all. It's just a shame."

So we were stuck there for a night without any transportation. We had all our instruments. I just vented my feelings toward Julio: "Always the same, it's just a shame, that's all," "I could leave but I won't go," "Taking it all instead of taking one bite" - all that shit, I just laid it out there on the line. Nice keyboard lick from Tony.

I chased down a Navajo kid and paid him $200 to go call my lawyer. Meanwhile we were stuck in that run-down warehouse for the night. Boy, it can get cold in the desert. So we built a fire, but it didn't really do the job. That's where "I can't feel a thing from my head down to my toes" comes from. Then we remembered, oh shit, we've got a camera. Hey, why not film a video? Cook some soup, play some cards, make a video ... you kind of forget all about things.

Guess my lawyer made the calls he needed to make, 'cause the van showed up in the morning. I found a bag of fresh tranquilizer in the glove compartment. We hit Interstate 10 and never looked back.