“In the Air Tonight” - Phil Collins
(Words/music: Phil Collins, available on Face Value, Atlantic 1981)

Back in January, I made a passing reference to an article I ripped out of an issue of Spin magazine years ago.  It’s called “Six Steps to Godlike Genius,” and in the article Chuck Klosterman shares his “six-step plan for writing transcendent rock music.”  In a piece intended as a bit of satire (his last step is “place tiny classified ads” after all), he hits on an idea about music that’s stuck with me.  Step #3 says, “Make sure every track has the Good Part,” and in a semi-serious, semi-factual list, Klosterman hit on an interesting idea.    His capital-lettered “Good Part” could be any number of things (Klosterman’s suggestions: speak-singing breakdowns, bass solos, and anything that makes the crowd pogo, among others), but most truly great songs have at least one moment or one specific element that makes it, as Klosterman says, transcendent.  It can be a specific part of the arrangement, a specific lyric, or even a specific sound.  It doesn’t have to be an isolated incident either – it could last for a few seconds, it could keep coming back, or it could be a fleeting happy accident.  Regardless, I’m hard pressed to think of a song where something doesn’t stand out and argue for its greatness.

In the article, Klosterman cites some solid examples – the bridge in Van Halen’s “Panama,” the drum intro to Led Zeppelin’s “When the Levee Breaks,” and what he calls the “wah-wah effect” in Peter Frampton’s “Show Me the Way” (although I think he means the talk box, but there might be a wah-wah pedal involved in there too).  His list leaves out perhaps the best example – a Great Part among Good Parts.  Maybe he leaves it off because it’s obvious, but the moment the drums enter at the end of “In the Air Tonight” is a culturally recognized Good Part.  It’s the part that makes normally sane people (and, in the case of a recent blockbuster, Mike Tyson) flail their arms and bludgeon any objects in arm’s length.  It even makes a gorilla with a drum kit an effective chocolate salesman.  Even listeners who might be bored by Collins catalog join in eagerly, making it the type of transcendent moment a songwriter dreams of having.

The drum break is the Good Part, without argument, but it’s only great because Collins sets it up perfectly.  “In the Air Tonight” sets an eerie tone from it’s opening notes, and Collins builds on this by echoing his voice and leaving tons of space in the arrangement.  As he tells the story of watching a man drown without offering any help (reportedly a metaphor for his failing marriage), Collins crafted a tense and ominous mood, making us feel like we’re out with him on that foggy night.  The tension builds throughout the song until the drums enter; suddenly, the once cavernous arrangement feels closed off – not exactly claustrophobic, but kind of like someone else joined us out of nowhere when we least expected it.  It’s hard to imagine now, but the drums come out of nowhere – the arrangement swells a little bit right before they come in, but we’re not really given a warning before they come in.  Listening to it now, knowing that the drums are the Good Part, adds a layer of anticipation onto the song’s ominous tone – we know the drums are coming and we’re waiting for the part where we can bash the steering wheel in time.  I can’t remember the first time I heard the song, so I’m not sure if I can compare the element of surprise to the anticipation of the Good Part, but my heart rises a little bit every time I hear those opening notes, knowing I’m only a couple minutes away from air drumming glory.

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