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Trollheart · 06-04-2011, 01:13 PM

Raingods with zippos --- Fish --- 2003 (Roadrunner)

I truly believe Fish will never equal, let alone transcend, his debut solo album, 1990's “Vigil in a wilderness of mirrors”, perhaps not only because it's a cracker of an album, but also because it was his decision to leave Marillion that alienated many of his former fans, and they perhaps wanted to see him fall flat on his face, which he totally failed to do. But if there's a second-greatest (so far) Fish album, it's this one. It also features Steven Wilson on guitar --- how cool is that?

The album is essentially divided into two parts, the first being made up of 6 original songs and one cover version, with part two being devoted to a single composition, broken into six parts, and clocking in at a Grendel-busting (in-joke for Marillion fans there!) twenty-four minutes. It's this latter that truly defines the album. Without the epic, “Raingods with zippos” would be a good album, but not overly brilliant, and although there are excellent songs making up the “first half” of the album, it really only comes into its own, and becomes a true masterpiece of progressive rock, with the addition of “Plague of ghosts”. But more of that later.

The album kicks off extremely gently, with a lilting piano intro to “Tumbledown”, the opening track, lulling the listener into perhaps a false sense of security as they settle down for what is expected to be a nice ballad to introduce the album. However, soon this belief is shattered, and the track kicks into gear, with thumping drums, churning guitars and stabbing keyboards. It bops along at a decent pace for most of the time, only slowing again as it comes to an end, leaving as it came, on a gentle piano outro. Although there is no actual title track, the phrase is revisited a few times on the album, and here for the first time as Fish sings [i]“Raingods with zippos/ A tin man's bleeding heart/ An end with no beginning/ It's just a race without a start.”[/] Don't ask me what the song is about: Fish writes great lyrics, but half the time I haven't got a clue what he's on about!

“Mission statement” keeps the pace going, bopping along at a nice lick. It's okay but nothing special, sort of reminds me of Lizzy's “Leave this town”, and it's followed by a truly beautiful ballad. The bittersweet story of a love affair coming to an end, “Incomplete” features a duet between Fish and a lady called Elizabeth Antwi, about whom I know nothing, but she has a very luxuriant voice which complements Fish's well, as he sings “We got a hundred and forty stations on satellite/Beaming them down to our home/ But I'm watching you” and Elizabeth replies “I got a half a billion bills to pay/ You never hear a word I say.” It's the classic tale of a breakdown in communication in a marriage or affair, and harks back to Fish's early days with Marillion, where he penned on “Punch and Judy” the lines “What ever happened to pillow fights?/ What ever happened to jeans so tight, Friday night?/ What ever happened to Lovers' Lane?/ What ever happened to passion games?/ Sunday walks in the pouring rain?” In the same way here, each of the protagonists are trying to figure out where it has all gone wrong.

[i]“If we could only bring those days back”[/], sings Fish wistfully, “When there were never wounds to heal/ When everything was perfect/ And the dreams we had were real.” It's a familiar story, and the song is carried on acoustic guitar, with heartfelt mandolin played by Bruce Watson (Big Country) and the stunning string arrangements of Davey Crichton laying a heartbreaking backdrop to this tale of love gone bad. It's followed by “Tilted cross”, almost a ballad in its own right, but this is a song about memories and markers we leave along the road of our lives. It's a gentle, again almost acoustic song with some great harmonies from Nicola and Tony King (are they related? I don't know) as Fish sings “I left my love in a grave and I marked it/ With a cross that stands so straight and true/ It's not alone in the shade of the valley/ They're what remains of the ones we once knew.” The song keeps the same basic melody throughout, and the tempo doesn't lift above the leisurely; it's a relaxing song, half-ballad I guess.

I've always been a firm believer that if a songwriter is accomplished enough he or she should have no truck with cover versions. Okay, maybe live, or on a greatest hits package, but come on! I buy Fish albums for Fish songs, not covers! So it will come as no surprise that I will be glossing over the inclusion of the Alex Haley standard “Faith healer” here. It's not to say it's a bad version, but I just feel it unfairly takes the place of another original composition that could have been included on the album.

The “first part” of the album then comes to a gentle end with “Rites of passage”, another ballad, with some great lines --- Fish is one of the masters of sharp satire and sarcasm, so lines like “Living with you is like being parked/ On double yellow lines/ Waiting to be towed away/ I'll pay the fine/ And I'll be back” fit in really well to this gentle but acid ballad. He sings “You knew that it was wrong/ And you think that saying sorry/ Is gonna make it seem all right,” A truly mournful violin carries the chorus side of the song, joined halfway through by sad keyboards that manage to convey the slow breaking of a heart. The song fades out on an absolutely gorgeous piano outro, lasting almost two and a half minutes out of the over seven-minute track. It also serves as something of an intro to what is to come.

Sprawling over a massive 24 minutes and 26 seconds, Fish's magnum opus, “Plague of ghosts”, has to be heard to be believed. Starting with “Old haunts”, swirling keys and synths set the scene as Fish wails “I found a home in the darkness”. This is the introduction to the song proper, and as such only lasts just over three minutes before the percussion kicks in to take us to part II, “Digging deep”, a funky, down-in-the-dirt rocker, with Steven Wilson's guitar taking charge and the vocal split between singing and a spoken, almost poetic declamation by Fish, with lines like “We watched an insect stray to the edge of its world/ A lily pad stretched over a green mirror/ In which the ghost carp swirl/ Like clouds before the storm/ This is the season of the rains/ This is incoming.”

The whole structure of PoG gives me the idea of a man who has become fed up with his life, and gone into the jungle to try and find himself. Immersing himself in the wildlife there, he finds it much easier to stay there: things are simpler, and he realises he really doesn't want to go back. This is definitely a follow-on from the conversation and break-up in “Rites of passage”, so much so that that song could almost be included in the whole “Plague of ghosts”, though it is cited as a separate song. Hey, I guess “Incomplete” could be part of that story, too. And “Tilted cross”, come to think of it...

Part III is called “Chocolate frogs” (don't ask!) and is split into two parts, the first a narrative, Attenborough-like, of the wildlife, while the synths and keyboards keep a muted hum, almost like they're waiting, waiting for something. Then Fish sings what sounds like an old Scottish nursery rhyme: “A heid (sic) full of chocolate frogs/ A pocketful of rush/ A skinful of shrapnel/ And a skinful of bush/ An eyeful of the future/ And a bellyful of the past/ Beautiful the present/ When you know it cannae (sic) last”.

This then powers into the denouement of the piece, part IV, “Waving at stars”, where the man thinks hard about the choices he has made, and wonders if perhaps this is not the way to go? Piano takes the tune directly into its core, its identity if you will, part V, “Raingods dancing”. The theme turns somewhat ominous for a moment, before the piano tinkles out and Fish muses “Empty playgrounds, empty bars/ I can't remember how it was before the flood/ When all I really had to do was recognise/ The love that's trapped inside.” He seems to be contemplating suicide, as the music swirls around him like mad dervishes, urging him on, and he doesn't know where to. “Raingods with zippos” he sings sadly, “A tin man rusts away/ And slowly falls apart/ Raingods with zippos/ And all he leaves behind/ A bleeding, broken heart.”

Finally, Part VI concludes the opus, as “Wake up call (Make it happen)” brings hope into the man's life, as he wakes (has he dreamed all of this?) beside his sleeping wife, and decides/hopes to give their relationship another try. The piano is brighter, happier, and the ensemble band carry the song to its hopeful conclusion as Fish sings”I can make it happen if I want to/ Make it happen if I try/ Forgive, forget. Forever/ Never means as much as it does today.” He does however realise there are no easy answers, as he asks his sleeping wife “When I wake up/ Will you be there?/ It can never be the same/ If we can take our lives slowly/ Step be step, we can be dancing in the rain.”

So in the end it's a journey, from anger and remorse and heartache, through self-doubt, self-absorption and indulgence to realisation and in the end catharsis and rebirth. Or not. Maybe it's just a hell of a good album. Either way, I'd be very surprised if anyone who listened to this recording did not enjoy it. Definitely one of the fishy one's finest.
TRACKLISTING

1. Tumbledown
2. Mission statement
3. Incomplete
4. Tilted cross
5. Faith healer
6. Rites of passage
7. PLAGUE OF GHOSTS (I) Old haunts (ii) Digging deep (iii) Chocolate frogs (iv)Waving at stars (v) Raingods dancing (vi) Wake up call (Make it happen)

Suggested further listening: "Vigil in a wilderness of mirrors", "Internal exile", "Sunsets on empire", "Field of crows"

06-04-2011, 01:13 PM	#25 (permalink)
Trollheart Born to be mild Join Date: Oct 2008 Location: 404 Not Found Posts: 26,996	Raingods with zippos --- Fish --- 2003 (Roadrunner) I truly believe Fish will never equal, let alone transcend, his debut solo album, 1990's “Vigil in a wilderness of mirrors”, perhaps not only because it's a cracker of an album, but also because it was his decision to leave Marillion that alienated many of his former fans, and they perhaps wanted to see him fall flat on his face, which he totally failed to do. But if there's a second-greatest (so far) Fish album, it's this one. It also features Steven Wilson on guitar --- how cool is that? The album is essentially divided into two parts, the first being made up of 6 original songs and one cover version, with part two being devoted to a single composition, broken into six parts, and clocking in at a Grendel-busting (in-joke for Marillion fans there!) twenty-four minutes. It's this latter that truly defines the album. Without the epic, “Raingods with zippos” would be a good album, but not overly brilliant, and although there are excellent songs making up the “first half” of the album, it really only comes into its own, and becomes a true masterpiece of progressive rock, with the addition of “Plague of ghosts”. But more of that later. The album kicks off extremely gently, with a lilting piano intro to “Tumbledown”, the opening track, lulling the listener into perhaps a false sense of security as they settle down for what is expected to be a nice ballad to introduce the album. However, soon this belief is shattered, and the track kicks into gear, with thumping drums, churning guitars and stabbing keyboards. It bops along at a decent pace for most of the time, only slowing again as it comes to an end, leaving as it came, on a gentle piano outro. Although there is no actual title track, the phrase is revisited a few times on the album, and here for the first time as Fish sings [i]“Raingods with zippos/ A tin man's bleeding heart/ An end with no beginning/ It's just a race without a start.”[/] Don't ask me what the song is about: Fish writes great lyrics, but half the time I haven't got a clue what he's on about! “Mission statement” keeps the pace going, bopping along at a nice lick. It's okay but nothing special, sort of reminds me of Lizzy's “Leave this town”, and it's followed by a truly beautiful ballad. The bittersweet story of a love affair coming to an end, “Incomplete” features a duet between Fish and a lady called Elizabeth Antwi, about whom I know nothing, but she has a very luxuriant voice which complements Fish's well, as he sings “We got a hundred and forty stations on satellite/Beaming them down to our home/ But I'm watching you” and Elizabeth replies “I got a half a billion bills to pay/ You never hear a word I say.” It's the classic tale of a breakdown in communication in a marriage or affair, and harks back to Fish's early days with Marillion, where he penned on “Punch and Judy” the lines “What ever happened to pillow fights?/ What ever happened to jeans so tight, Friday night?/ What ever happened to Lovers' Lane?/ What ever happened to passion games?/ Sunday walks in the pouring rain?” In the same way here, each of the protagonists are trying to figure out where it has all gone wrong. [i]“If we could only bring those days back”[/], sings Fish wistfully, “When there were never wounds to heal/ When everything was perfect/ And the dreams we had were real.” It's a familiar story, and the song is carried on acoustic guitar, with heartfelt mandolin played by Bruce Watson (Big Country) and the stunning string arrangements of Davey Crichton laying a heartbreaking backdrop to this tale of love gone bad. It's followed by “Tilted cross”, almost a ballad in its own right, but this is a song about memories and markers we leave along the road of our lives. It's a gentle, again almost acoustic song with some great harmonies from Nicola and Tony King (are they related? I don't know) as Fish sings “I left my love in a grave and I marked it/ With a cross that stands so straight and true/ It's not alone in the shade of the valley/ They're what remains of the ones we once knew.” The song keeps the same basic melody throughout, and the tempo doesn't lift above the leisurely; it's a relaxing song, half-ballad I guess. I've always been a firm believer that if a songwriter is accomplished enough he or she should have no truck with cover versions. Okay, maybe live, or on a greatest hits package, but come on! I buy Fish albums for Fish songs, not covers! So it will come as no surprise that I will be glossing over the inclusion of the Alex Haley standard “Faith healer” here. It's not to say it's a bad version, but I just feel it unfairly takes the place of another original composition that could have been included on the album. The “first part” of the album then comes to a gentle end with “Rites of passage”, another ballad, with some great lines --- Fish is one of the masters of sharp satire and sarcasm, so lines like “Living with you is like being parked/ On double yellow lines/ Waiting to be towed away/ I'll pay the fine/ And I'll be back” fit in really well to this gentle but acid ballad. He sings “You knew that it was wrong/ And you think that saying sorry/ Is gonna make it seem all right,” A truly mournful violin carries the chorus side of the song, joined halfway through by sad keyboards that manage to convey the slow breaking of a heart. The song fades out on an absolutely gorgeous piano outro, lasting almost two and a half minutes out of the over seven-minute track. It also serves as something of an intro to what is to come. Sprawling over a massive 24 minutes and 26 seconds, Fish's magnum opus, “Plague of ghosts”, has to be heard to be believed. Starting with “Old haunts”, swirling keys and synths set the scene as Fish wails “I found a home in the darkness”. This is the introduction to the song proper, and as such only lasts just over three minutes before the percussion kicks in to take us to part II, “Digging deep”, a funky, down-in-the-dirt rocker, with Steven Wilson's guitar taking charge and the vocal split between singing and a spoken, almost poetic declamation by Fish, with lines like “We watched an insect stray to the edge of its world/ A lily pad stretched over a green mirror/ In which the ghost carp swirl/ Like clouds before the storm/ This is the season of the rains/ This is incoming.” The whole structure of PoG gives me the idea of a man who has become fed up with his life, and gone into the jungle to try and find himself. Immersing himself in the wildlife there, he finds it much easier to stay there: things are simpler, and he realises he really doesn't want to go back. This is definitely a follow-on from the conversation and break-up in “Rites of passage”, so much so that that song could almost be included in the whole “Plague of ghosts”, though it is cited as a separate song. Hey, I guess “Incomplete” could be part of that story, too. And “Tilted cross”, come to think of it... Part III is called “Chocolate frogs” (don't ask!) and is split into two parts, the first a narrative, Attenborough-like, of the wildlife, while the synths and keyboards keep a muted hum, almost like they're waiting, waiting for something. Then Fish sings what sounds like an old Scottish nursery rhyme: “A heid (sic) full of chocolate frogs/ A pocketful of rush/ A skinful of shrapnel/ And a skinful of bush/ An eyeful of the future/ And a bellyful of the past/ Beautiful the present/ When you know it cannae (sic) last”. This then powers into the denouement of the piece, part IV, “Waving at stars”, where the man thinks hard about the choices he has made, and wonders if perhaps this is not the way to go? Piano takes the tune directly into its core, its identity if you will, part V, “Raingods dancing”. The theme turns somewhat ominous for a moment, before the piano tinkles out and Fish muses “Empty playgrounds, empty bars/ I can't remember how it was before the flood/ When all I really had to do was recognise/ The love that's trapped inside.” He seems to be contemplating suicide, as the music swirls around him like mad dervishes, urging him on, and he doesn't know where to. “Raingods with zippos” he sings sadly, “A tin man rusts away/ And slowly falls apart/ Raingods with zippos/ And all he leaves behind/ A bleeding, broken heart.” Finally, Part VI concludes the opus, as “Wake up call (Make it happen)” brings hope into the man's life, as he wakes (has he dreamed all of this?) beside his sleeping wife, and decides/hopes to give their relationship another try. The piano is brighter, happier, and the ensemble band carry the song to its hopeful conclusion as Fish sings”I can make it happen if I want to/ Make it happen if I try/ Forgive, forget. Forever/ Never means as much as it does today.” He does however realise there are no easy answers, as he asks his sleeping wife “When I wake up/ Will you be there?/ It can never be the same/ If we can take our lives slowly/ Step be step, we can be dancing in the rain.” So in the end it's a journey, from anger and remorse and heartache, through self-doubt, self-absorption and indulgence to realisation and in the end catharsis and rebirth. Or not. Maybe it's just a hell of a good album. Either way, I'd be very surprised if anyone who listened to this recording did not enjoy it. Definitely one of the fishy one's finest. TRACKLISTING 1. Tumbledown 2. Mission statement 3. Incomplete 4. Tilted cross 5. Faith healer 6. Rites of passage 7. PLAGUE OF GHOSTS (I) Old haunts (ii) Digging deep (iii) Chocolate frogs (iv)Waving at stars (v) Raingods dancing (vi) Wake up call (Make it happen) Suggested further listening: "Vigil in a wilderness of mirrors", "Internal exile", "Sunsets on empire", "Field of crows" __________________ Trollheart: Signature-free since April 2018 Last edited by Trollheart; 11-04-2011 at 09:09 AM.