REVIEWS

He might hobble on stage with a walking stick and perform his vocals while sitting down nowadays, but Phil Collins has lost none of his populist skills as a crowd-pleasing showman. Just a few numbers into the latest – and almost certainly last – Genesis reunion tour, the unsettling oddness of watching a rock frontman performing seated is soon forgotten as Collins has the Manchester Arena audience in the palm of his hand like a seasoned music-hall comedian. Despite no longer being able to drum, due to spinal injury and other health problems, the 70-year-old is in genial mood, hamming up his physical limitations as farce rather than tragedy. Behind the drum kit, his 20-year-old son Nicholas plays with impressive power and precision, lending this farewell tour a big-hearted family vibe.

It was easy to hate Genesis in their Armani-clad, rolled-up-sleeves, mullet-haired 80s pomp, when they seemed both inescapably huge and insufferably bland. Shortly before Collins left to pursue his solo career, his easy-listening soul-pop formula came to dominate the band’s sound. But this show is a pleasing reminder of how many enjoyably weird and surprisingly potent numbers lurked between the anodyne MTV anthems. A roaring, crashing explodes with glorious glam-rock melodrama, while becomes a gothic trip-hop throbber as Collins turns on his acting skills, his snarling, menacing-looking face bathed in red light. Even the wretched packs a real wallop as Mike Rutherford pumps out its bluesy