Marillion

The latest version of iChat allows the user to broadcast their current iTunes track, a nifty little app that allows other iChat (or higher end IM users) participants to get a little insight as to what you are doing or what you are listening to. Plus, this is simply a great way to proudly show off your snobbish tastes in music to those who are deemed less-enlightened.

My best friend, Scott, doesn’t have iChat, nor is he allowed to use an IM program in his workplace. Instead, he emails a network of people a list of whatever tune he is bopping around to in hopes that this happy vibe is picked up on and continued.

A number of these recent emails have been directed around the Scottish prog-rock band, Marillion. Marillion never hit it big in the States (only 1985’s Misplaced Childhood had two singles chart in the US, “Kayleigh” and “Lavender”), but had a fair-sized and committed fan base here whose fanatical ways could almost be considered cultish. For a while in college, I was such a member. But not any longer.

Scott was responsible for the initial Marillion introduction, but I didn’t immediately jump on-board like I was doing with other such new found discoveries; after just sampling Dream Theater, as an example, I bought their current discography as quickly as possible. At the time, Marillion’s original lead singer, Fish, got fed up with the group and their label and struck off on a solo career only to be replaced by Steve Hogarth, whose somewhat effeminate ways that were oh-so stylish at first became more and more annoying as the Century concluded. I thought Fish sounded like a Peter Gabriel knock-off (and he did, but unlike Hogarth, as the Century ended I gained a deeper respect Fish) and Hogarth’s Marillion tended to be a little quieter, kind of in a similar manner as how Anderson, Bruford, Wakeman, Howe is quieter to the balls-out rock Yes presented during the early Trevor Rabin years. But after a while, much like drinking bad diner coffee, the saturation set in.

The end of Fish’s career and Hogarth’s first two releases were the prime recording years of the band, in my mind as a fan anyway (1984’s Fugazi, 1985’s Misplaced Childhood, 1987’s Clutching At Straws, 1989’s Season’s End, 1991’s Holidays In Eden ). They maintained a hip progressive status by allowing those four or five releases to maintain a loose theme, mixed up the ballads with the rockers, varied the length of songs from 11-minute epics to two-and-a-half radio cuts and came across as artsy, haunting, raw and silly with their lyrics.

What especially made it fun to be a fan in the early 90s were their occasional US tours. The band solidly understood that without these passionate fans their US sales would be a lot worse, so they eagerly did meet-and-greets sometimes before, but mostly after, their shows. They listened, shook hands, signed autographs and eagerly accepted alcohol. Often times their shows would feature little surprises in the set list. My knowledge of their library was growing but still limited when compared to Marillion long-timers, known as “Freaks” taken from one of their lyrics, “All the best freaks are here” - or at least I called them freaks. I also call my motorcycle-riding, volunteer firefighter neighbors freaks as well, so that title might not be considered canon. Still, it was that unexpected element, that possibility of that one gem heard live, that certainly keep the crowd interested.

Their future releases, unfortunately, became significantly uninteresting.

After two efforts, it was as if Steve Hogarth played artistic traffic cop and purposefully directed Marillion’s efforts away from anything remotely related to a Fish-y progression. After all, such an endeavor worked for Van Halen. Right?! Hmmm, next question please.

Alright then, how about this one: why did Marillion move away from foot-tappin’, moody, memorable Prog Rock and embrace a much-more obtuse and significantly more moody style of Prog-Rock?

Two easy answers. The first, obviously, being that all music is subjective to the listener. Not being much of a blues fan, I can honestly say that I never got personal enjoyment from Stevie Ray Vaughn’s music. I would have been kicked out the local record exchange if the guys there ever knew that. But then MP3s kinda kicked out the local record exchanges, so my secret is safe.

Answer number 2. Maybe Marillion understood that Prog Rock was dying quicker than the memory of gas prices falling under a buck. Maybe they wanted to truly embrace that indie spirit and make music that could not fully be classified into one genre.

Another answer exists that is just as easy. Maybe my own tastes changed. Maybe as I got more into classical, jazz, electronica and instrumental scores I cared less and less for this new alternative, this new direction, a band was taking.

1994 saw the release of Brave, a morose concept album that just didn’t have sustaining power. Brave, however, did have one treasure – the love ballad “Made Again”. This was one of those truly beautiful songs that you would sing to your wife on your wedding date, even though I did not.

After Brave, the band put out their last great work, 1995’s Afraid Of Sunlight. Truly progressive and filled with atmospheric works that harkened back to Fish’s time without being derivative. Unfortunately, this trend would not last.

By the time This Strange Engine and Radiation were released (1997, 1998) I was out. Gone. Vanished like a puff of smoke ala Keyser Soze. I listened to tracks that Scott threw at me. I eventually threw them back. Scott, like the loyal friend he is, remained loyal to the band much longer than my scant 6 years. However, he too, rode off into the wind sometime after the Century mark.

Scott stills likes from time-to-time to, as the Boss commands, capture a little of the glory of. For this rocker though, well time slips away and leaves you with nothing mister but boring stories.

Here’s hoping this wasn’t one of them. And no, I'm not signing off with a Marillion lyric either.


As Always,
theJOE