😇 Against All Odds: Live Aid 1985
Grace & Humor: A gently whimsical reflection from Spirituality Today
A lost note from Phil Collins, written in 1985. Wembley. JFK. Zeppelin. No sleep, no brakes, no regrets.
July 13, 1985
3:27 a.m. — London time, still awake
Dear Diary,
This might be the most ridiculous day of my life. I just got off stage at JFK in Philadelphia. Earlier today I was at Wembley. That’s right. I played two continents in one day. I think I’ve sweated through my bones. My arms may never forgive me.
It started with tea. And nerves. I could barely butter my toast. Wembley was already buzzing when I arrived. Everyone was in good spirits, though I did see one of the Status Quo guys using a hairdryer to warm his socks. Maybe it was a ritual. Maybe it was just Britain.
8:12 a.m. — Wembley backstage
The first wave of “What am I doing?” hit while tuning my snare. Bob Geldof walked by holding three phones and a Danish. He gave me a look like, “You ready?” I nodded like a man about to jump off a roof. Freedom, it turns out, comes with a set list and no rehearsal time.
Sting popped by, somehow already looking refreshed. We ran through “Long Long Way to Go” and “Every Breath You Take.” No rehearsal, of course. Just the knowing glance of two musicians who had both been up since before the sun.
12:00 p.m. — Wembley performance
I opened solo with “Against All Odds.” Then “In the Air Tonight.” The crowd was massive—like a human sea that knew every word. No one cared that I was sweating like a boiled kettle by the first chorus.
Playing in front of 72,000 people should be terrifying. It was. But it was also strangely peaceful. Maybe because they were singing with me. Maybe because the monitors actually worked. Or maybe I was too tired to feel fear.
After my set, a bloke handed me a banana and said, “Your Concorde leaves in 40 minutes.” I thought he was joking. He was not.
2:41 p.m. — In the air, somewhere over the Atlantic
The Concorde is fast, loud, and smells vaguely of champagne and hairspray. It’s what happens when an airplane decides it wants to be a missile.
Sitting next to Cher didn’t help me relax. She looked impeccable. I looked like a roadie with stage fright. She asked if I was nervous about the Zeppelin bit. With growing dread, I told her I didn’t even know what songs we were playing.
She laughed. I did not.
5:52 p.m. — JFK Stadium, Philadelphia
Arrived. Blinked. Customs was a blur. Was shoved toward a piano. Played “Against All Odds.” Again. Then “In the Air Tonight.” Again. I suppose if you’re only doing two songs, you might as well play them on both sides of the ocean.
Someone handed me sticks and a sandwich. I waved at Eric Clapton. He waved back with a guitar already strapped on. The crowd roared like thunder. We played “White Room,” “She’s Waiting,” and “Layla.” A dream gig, honestly. The man oozes cool. The stage vibrated like it had a pulse.
Then came...Zeppelin.
7:30 p.m. — Still Philadelphia, unfortunately for me
Let the record show that I love Led Zeppelin. I love their music. I love their swagger. But trying to drum for them without rehearsal is like trying to herd flamingos through a hurricane.
I did not love being dropped behind a drum kit to play “Rock and Roll,” “Whole Lotta Love,” and “Stairway to Heaven” with no chit-chat and no idea what tempo anyone agreed on. At one point, I looked at Robert Plant, hoping for a cue. He looked back like I’d just asked him to build a deck.
It wasn’t bad, exactly. It just wasn’t...coordinated. Jimmy kept turning around and grinning. That helped.
10:11 p.m. — Hotel, finally horizontal
I survived. Mostly. I didn’t miss any cues that caused permanent damage, and no one threw fruit. That counts as success. This day was loud, sweaty, exhilarating, and entirely unreasonable. But it mattered.
There were no encores. No second chances. But today wasn’t about perfect drumming or flawless vocals. It was about showing up. For famine relief. For global connection. For something bigger than ourselves. Freedom, after all, includes the freedom to help. Responsibility includes the courage to try—even with jet lag, prominent blisters, and being 3,500 miles from your last soundcheck.
Looking back, it was chaos wrapped in purpose. And I’d do it again tomorrow. Well, maybe not tomorrow. I need a nap.
Phil
😇 Part of the Grace & Humor comedy track from Spirituality Today.
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extremely well written Scott. thanks, lb