Fetch the drum seat, piano stool and producer's lounger. Phil Collins fits all three and prepares for his third solo album. Paul Colbert sits on an upturned box and listens.

A meticulous man is Mr Collins. You can hear it in his drumming, see it in his diary (currently pencilled in until the beginning of 1986) and spot it in the way he finishes interviews. As the tape recorder clicks off in the deserted games room of Townhouse Studios, Mr Collins prepares to head down stairs and continue work on his third solo album. Daryl Stuermer is due at any moment to contribute a few guitar lines. David Franks from The System has just arrived to program the DXs. Time is pressing like a tight suit and yet Mr Collins doesn't dash away. There's something still to be done, an end untied.

He stands, crosses to the nearby table tennis table and carefully hoists the two empty, plastic cups of tea brought to us by a Townhouse secretary, then drops them both in the rubbish bin. It's a completely automatic, unconscious action but as we leave the games room everything is just how we found it. Meticulous.

"I wrote the songs very quickly this time, in about three weeks I had 10 or 11... they might all be rubbish, I don't know. I try to approach each album... huh, 'each' album... I approached both of my albums before this differently out of circumstances. The first was written as a result of a personal thing that happened to me, my divorce. The second time I obviously couldn't go through all that again so I worked by setting myself a time limit. It took me about seven weeks to sort that album out."

And now this third solo LP, written in record time. Why such a rush? Does the diary always dictate to the drummer? No, probably the other way around. This is only the second time I've met Phil Collins which is actually one occasion spare in realising that he enjoys working under pressure and is perhaps fascinated to see just how much he can do in such little time. There's the pride of achievement, and there's the pride of achieving it quickly.

He'll be in The Townhouse for another couple of weeks, assisted by engineer Hugh Padgham and guests such as the Phoenix Horns ("I don't know that there is an Earth Wind and Fire any more. Maurice has stopped it, so I gather").

In January the band begin rehearsals for a five-month world tour playing new and old songs. July and August are the only sacrosanct months when his kids from his previous marriage come back from Canada for their school holidays. Then, as Summer begins to wind down, Genesis wind up and the threesome will be in the studio, writing and recording for their next album — "first for two years".

Listening to Phil Collins' life-scheduling is like watching one of those old black and white films where pages flip off a calendar in a force nine gale to indicate passage of time. Before '85 is exhausted let's at least complete '84 with some discussion on 'No Jackets Required'... working title for P.C.3. First, the process.

"I go upstairs to my bedroom where there's a Brenell eight track. I go in about 11.00 in the morning and come out about 10 or 11 at night. I do come down if I feel like a break, but usually I keep going because I enjoy it.

"I've got a couple of DX7s now, but I'm mostly a preset man, not a synth programmer. For 'Face Value' I was writing the songs and trying to work the machines — just getting the songs on tape was a major achievement. I kept the demos because I couldn't face going back and trying to get them all right again. So the demos were transferred to 24 track and then overdubbed.

"For me that was a successful venture. I thought, this is great, I can write and record at home and never have to 'top' the demos, which is always a problem."

'Hello, I Must Be Going' was tackled in a similar way, but for 'Jackets' several of the songs have been left in the rawest demo form with the intention of recording them from scratch at The Townhouse. Maybe the emotion of the album has something to do with that decision, "the songs are all very up, I've only written one that could be called a ballad".

The home-based DX7s and the introduction of SMPTE code to the Collins' recording system could also have an influence. "If you put something down with the code, you can come back later and try a Linn instead of an Oberheim DMX, or a Roland instead of the Linn, or all three together."

Do we hear this aright? Is one of the world's most respected drummers not only advocating drum machines, but a handful of them? "I'm a great fan of drum machines, I like them." Seems conclusive, then. "On the first two albums I used the Roland square box one (CR78) for 'In The Air' and 'This Must Be Love', for example. It had a very distinct sound, you couldn't get any really good drums sounds, but that made it easy to play against with real drums.

"On the second album I also had the Movement which, bless its heart, is so erratic. I can't get the bloody thing to work, now."

Can understand the idea of an electronic foil to the real Collins' kit, but does that mean he finds sampled rhythm machines harder to get on with? "I started to use drum machines just for basic patterns, but now I find it's the insistency of a drum machine that I like. If I try to PLAY it, I do too much, so I've ended up using the machines on some tracks, which seems weird to some people, I suppose. I still prefer the sounds of, say, the TR909 which is the most recent buy. Roland sounds are still very 'rubbery'. On one track I've got the 909 to start, then throughout the song I'm feeding in real drums playing the same thing and that's how it ends."

Then what about your own kit and sound? Collins begins: "Well, I'm known", then pauses deferentially to rephrase. "I think I'm known for 'The Intruder', 'In The Air', that big, ambient sound which is something I really like, but I would never do a whole album in that way. Hugh and I deliberately go for a different sound on every song because it's interesting for us and because it would be too easy to set up one good sound then run all the tapes off.

"Apart from the last Genesis album which featured a Pearl concert tom kit which I was endorsing at the time, I always use my black Premier which is probably one of the first concert tom kits they made and they have a sound I can't get elsewhere — though I've never really bothered to try. I've got a few Gretsches but they're road kits. I've never tried recording with them, though I did take one down to do a session for Sting on his new solo album, and they liked the sound of it.

"I've got the new Simmons SDS7 which I haven't really fooled with. I have used them on the road but not for any fundamental drum thing. Still, you're catching me two weeks into the album so anything could happen."

Mr Collins was a "late starter" where electronic drums were concerned, and although Dave Simmons once took the original SDS3 kit (with proper skins) along for a test, he hit it, but didn't hit it off. "A drum is a drum to me. I like them to look like drums, not like those Staccato things which could be a pair of pants."

He was won round by necessity when playing on the Robert Plant tour. Studio drummer Barry Barlow had used a Simmons, so Collins bought a kit in order to keep up with the live parts, then found himself toying with it on the 'Genesis' sessions, finally allowing a release of electronica on tracks such as 'Illegal Alien'. Why the delay, d'ya think? "Maybe because it's easy for me to get what people consider a synthesised sound out of a natural kit, so I've never bothered."

It's a common theme running through Collins' instrumental proclivities that each chunk of equipment has its own identity, performs a specific task, and shouldn't necessarily be tampered with. Witness the swap from Prophet to DXs on the latest home demos. "Equipment has almost complete control over how I play. I respond to the sound. The voice or harp sounds on the DX are great and as soon as I hear them I'll play something to fit. Because I'm not a synth programmer I haven't used the Prophet at all on this album, as big a fan as I am... I don't find it very easy to get inside of. A different synth will mean I will play different stuff. I've got the Oberheim system as well as the two DXs and the Prophet. I turn it on every day, but never use it.

"But on stage I'll use the Prophet for the songs from the first two albums, because that's what I wrote them on."

How's the technique? "I don't have one." Hmm.

"I always do as much keyboard stuff as I can and when I try to show other keyboard players what I'm doing, my hands are all over the place and their's are usually over their eyes.

"I've got David Franks coming because there are three really r'n'b tracks and rather than me trying to play like that, I'll get someone who can do it properly." Franks will be joined on the sessions by thoroughly-established-bassist Lee Sklar whose cuttings' file runs from James Taylor and Jackson Browne to the Hill Street Blues theme. Arif Mardin will be reappearing to mastermind strings on one or two tracks, then much the same line-up will be taking the show on the road, first in England (initial date, Nottingham, February 14), then Europe returning for a two-week break before hitting Australia (a Collins' first) and Japan, finishing with some outdoor American gigs at the end of June.

When Collins first began his solo career, he commented frequently that it appealed to him because it was away from the grind of massive Genesis tours. How does he reconcile that concept with the projected five-month tour? He'd already mentioned that the full time table was preventing him from accepting a few interesting production offers.

"The solo thing has developed, but I still see it as... small." Five months around the world is small? "Well... it's long, but they're small gigs. I'm doing it because the last tour was a lot of fun."

And what about these production jobs? Collins confesses the offers are broad, occasionally bizarre, and not always flattering if it's a reputation as a producer you're after: The manager of one mainstream, Hollywood, female singer phoned him suggesting a collaboration.

"Does Liza know what she's getting?" enquired Collins across the wire. "Sure", came the transatlantic response "she's getting that great big drum sound." Collins mocks his own appeal saying she was probably right, but it's doubtless more important to the bands he's worked with that the man behind the glass is a musician and a producer.

Eric Clapton's album, which P.C. finished in March, should be out at the beginning of '85. There have been some... hold-ups... and Collins prepares to unfold the story — "I'm telling you this because I'd rather I told it right, than somebody else told it wrong. That's starting to happen." Apparently Warner Bros argued there were no singles on the March recordings. Collins and Clapton contested, but when Warner Bros sent them some suggested tracks, the duo genuinely liked them. Because of the familiar pressure-of-time syndrome, Clapton went alone to LA to record the extras, two of which will be included on the album, and one of which was sitting, as we spoke, on the reception of Townhouse Studios for Collins to absorb. There was not a falling out. Clapton did not rush off to the States because the record company were dissatisfied with Collins' work. "I think this album will surprise a lot of people", adds the drummer. "Eric took a Prophet and a Linn away to write the demos which is very unusual for him. He's also singing and playing better than I've ever heard him."

And then there was Genesis. "The last album was different because we did it from scratch, no music pre-written, the three of us together working out everything; start a drum machine going and play. In the old days people would bring in songs, and more recently, bits of songs. 'The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway' was probably the last time we had nothing written."

Speaking of 'the old days' I wondered how he felt about the very old material. "Well, I don't really get much enjoyment listening to the tracks, apart from the memories... ahh, the memories... when we were young. There have been 15 Genesis albums and I've been on 13 of them. I'm only 33, it doesn't feel that long ago."

On album 16 the three will again be working alone without the studio involvement of Stuermer and Thompson. Collins explains this as being impractical and unfair — "we want to say, 'let's try a bit of guitar,' not, 'we have to do guitar this week because Daryl's here'." However, deeper in the decision is the shared feeling that "the three of us are as close as we could be", and outsiders, however well known, would be intruders. It's easy to get the impression that the makings of Genesis albums are almost annual holidays for the trio: mates getting together, going back to vist the old school every year. I'd suspect they guard their reunions jealously. "We do it because we enjoy playing together and writing together. When we don't we'll stop, not before."

Before Autumn gives way to Genesisal recordings, were there any new toys planned for the Collins' arsenal?

"I'm very impressed with the Roland MSQ sequencer, I had so much trouble programming the Oberheim DSX, I realise I don't know the Oberheim and that's the main reason, but the MSQ is so easy to use; it helped me out of a hole. Otherwise, sampling, I suppose. I'm trying to get hold of an Emulator II for David Franks to use. Tony Banks has got one so I might end up 'renting' his. We've had the Emulator, the original one, for a while. On "Genesis", the last album, there's a string thing which is actually one of the tracks from the 2001 soundtrack: you play a chord and part of it's going at half the speed and part at twice the speed, sounds beautiful.

"I'd love to be able to operate the DX7 to its maximum — I've learnt to take it down a couple of tones which is a major breakthrough. Otherwise, I'm happy with my lot at the moment. I've got these new things for this album, and I'll have a few more tools before the next one, but if anyone has a drum machine with good quality sampled percussion instruments on it, then I'll be interested."

The tape recorder clicked, Phil Collins bounced up on his sneakers and two plastic tea cups prepared to die.