Phil Collins Reflects on Three Failed Marriages, Career's Toll on Family

I've got five fantastic kids I wouldn't have if that hadn't happened.
Collins balances his regret over failed marriages against the reality of the children those unions produced.
Mark

So when Collins says Genesis did three American tours, two European tours, and Japan in one year—is that actually documented, or is that his recollection?

Mimi

That's what he told Morgan in the interview. I don't have independent verification of that specific year's schedule, but Genesis was famously relentless on the road during the late 1970s and 1980s. The scale he's describing fits the band's reputation.

Luke

Right. And that matters because the whole argument hinges on it—that touring destroyed the marriage. But we're taking his word for the intensity. We don't know if Bertorelli would describe it the same way, or if there were other fractures.

Mark

He says the bandmates told him afterward they would have stopped touring if he'd asked. Do we know if that conversation actually happened?

Mimi

That's his account of what they said. It's plausible—bands do make accommodations for members in crisis—but we only have his side of it.

Luke

And he's using it to explain why he didn't speak up. Which is interesting psychologically, but it's not the same as confirming the band would have actually stopped.

Mark

What about the five children—is that number solid?

Mimi

Yes. Joely and Simon from the first marriage, Lily from the second, Nicholas and Matthew from the third. Five is confirmed.

Luke

Though we should note he adopted Joely, so biologically he's the father of four. Not that it changes the emotional reality, but it's a detail.

Mark

And Lily's forgiveness—how recent is that?

Mimi

The memoir came out in 2017. The birthday photos and Father's Day posts are from this year. So the reconciliation has been building for years, but it's clearly active now.

Luke

The question underneath is whether this interview is him processing genuine regret or managing his legacy. Probably both. But we can't know which weighs more.

  • Collins's first marriage collapsed under the sheer weight of Genesis's relentless touring — three American runs, two European sweeps, and Japan, all in a single year — turning a husband into a stranger before either party fully understood what was happening.
  • Two more marriages followed, each ending in its own way, leaving Collins with five children across three dissolved unions and a reckoning he could no longer defer at seventy-five.
  • Rather than retreat into regret, Collins offered a kind of rueful arithmetic: the pain of the failures is inseparable from the five children he would not otherwise have, and he refuses to pretend the equation is simple.
  • His daughter Lily, now a global star in her own right, once wrote publicly that she forgave him for the absences — not as an erasure of the hurt, but as a deliberate choice to make room for something new.
  • The reconciliation has taken tangible form: shared birthday celebrations, Father's Day tributes, and Lily's own entry into parenthood in 2025 deepening her understanding of what her father had both given and withheld.

Phil Collins, the architect of some of rock's most enduring sounds, has spent his seventy-fifth year reckoning with a quieter kind of ledger — not of albums or tours, but of marriages lost and children raised at a distance. In a candid conversation with Piers Morgan, Collins neither excused nor dramatized the pattern of three failed unions, but placed them inside the larger human tension between devotion to a calling and devotion to a family. What emerges is not a story of ruin, but of a man slowly learning that reconciliation, like fatherhood itself, has no expiration date.

Phil Collins sat down with Piers Morgan to confront something that has shadowed his seventy-five years: three marriages that ended, and what they cost him as a father. The conversation was not defensive. Collins spoke plainly about regret — but also about the strange arithmetic of a life that broke in ways he never intended.

His first marriage, to Andrea Bertorelli, lasted from 1975 to 1980. They had a son together and he adopted her daughter, but the union could not survive what Genesis demanded. In a single year, the band mounted three American tours, two European tours, and a run through Japan. Collins was gone so long that he and his wife became strangers. When the separation came, his bandmates said they would have stopped touring had they known — but by then, it was already too late.

Two more marriages followed: Jill Tavelman through 1996, with whom he had daughter Lily, and Orianne Cevey through 2006, who gave him sons Nicholas and Matthew. Five children across three failed unions. Collins did not hide behind abstraction when reflecting on it. He described the pattern with rueful honesty — sometimes he jumped, he said, and sometimes he was pushed. But he would not rewrite the life entirely. The children changed the calculation, and he said he had to balance the loss against what it had given him.

What Collins insisted on, across all the failure, was that he had always tried to be present for his children even as the marriages dissolved. He never imagined he would marry three times. No one plans for that.

His daughter Lily, now known to millions through Netflix's 'Emily in Paris,' wrote about their fractured relationship in her 2017 memoir. She was direct about the pain, but also about her choice to move past it — forgiving him not as an erasure of hurt, but as an opening toward something more durable. The reconciliation has been real. Lily posted photos from his seventy-fifth birthday celebration, and on Father's Day shared a tribute noting that becoming a parent herself — she welcomed her first child in January 2025 — had deepened her appreciation for what he had given her. The estrangement had not been erased, but it had been transformed into something that could hold both the old wound and the new understanding.

Phil Collins sat down with Piers Morgan recently to confront something that has shadowed his seventy-five years: the wreckage of three marriages and what they cost him as a father. The conversation was not defensive. Collins, the legendary drummer and singer who built Genesis into one of rock's most enduring acts, spoke plainly about regret—but also about the strange arithmetic of a life that broke in ways he never intended.

His first marriage to Andrea Bertorelli lasted from 1975 to 1980. He adopted her daughter Joely and they had a son together, Simon. But the marriage could not survive what Genesis demanded of him. In a single year, the band mounted three tours of America, two of Europe, and another through Japan. Collins was gone. The distance became permanent. When the separation came, his bandmates asked why he hadn't told them—they would have stopped touring, they said. But that was hindsight talking. By then, he and Bertorelli had already grown into strangers.

There were two more marriages after that. Jill Tavelman from 1984 to 1996, with whom he had daughter Lily. Then Orianne Cevey from 1999 to 2006, who gave him sons Nicholas and Matthew. Five children across three failed unions. When Collins reflected on it all, he did not hide behind abstraction. "To some extent, I have to say I regret my marriages falling apart," he told Morgan. He described the pattern with a kind of rueful honesty: "Sometimes I jumped. Well, one time I jumped, two times I was pushed." But he would not have written his life that way if he could rewrite it. The children changed the calculation. "I've got five fantastic kids that I wouldn't have if that hadn't happened. So I have to balance it."

What Collins insisted on, across all the failure, was presence with his children. He said he always tried to be there for them, even as the marriages dissolved around him. He never imagined he would marry three times. You don't go into life planning for that.

His daughter Lily, now known to millions as a star of Netflix's "Emily in Paris," wrote about their fractured relationship in her 2017 memoir. She was direct about the pain. "I forgive you for not always being there when I needed it, for not being the dad I expected," she wrote in a passage Morgan read aloud. "I forgive the mistakes you made. And although it may seem like it's too late, it's not. There's still so much time to move forward." Those words, written years into their estrangement, carried the weight of someone who had done the work to move past anger into something more durable.

The reconciliation has been real. Lily posted photos from Collins's seventy-fifth birthday celebration in January, writing that she felt lucky to have hugged him, laughed with him, reminisced with him on that day. For Father's Day, she shared a tribute expressing gratitude for his unconditional love and support, and noting that as a parent herself—she welcomed her first child, Tove, via surrogate in January 2025—she had developed a deeper appreciation for what he had given her. "Tove is lucky to call you Grandpa P," she wrote. The estrangement had not been erased, but it had been transformed into something that could hold both the old hurt and the new understanding.

To some extent, I have to say I regret my marriages falling apart. Sometimes I jumped. Well, one time I jumped, two times I was pushed.
— Phil Collins, in interview with Piers Morgan
I forgive you for not always being there when I needed it, for not being the dad I expected. And although it may seem like it's too late, it's not. There's still so much time to move forward.
— Lily Collins, from her 2017 memoir 'Unfiltered'
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