Trollheart

And so we come to what I like to think of as Marillion's Abacab, their most commercial and poppy sounding album, and one on which they strove to do almost away with the progressive rock influence that had stubbornly clung on to their music for the past decade, despite their attempts to move in new directions. I have mixed feelings about this album. I do like it, but it's not top high on my list, and I feel that Marillion almost gave the finger to the fans, if not consciously then certainly subconsciously. They seemed to be saying “there's more to us than a progressive rock band or a Genesis clone”, but they had already proven this with the release of by this point eleven fine albums, some of them real classics. Why they felt the need to turn away from prog rock in the sort of manner that many heavy metal bands would at some point thrust their metaphorical hands in their equally metaphorical pockets, sulk and mumble that they weren't a heavy metal band, is kind of beyond me.

Steve Hogarth did say at one point “that's your label, not ours” when referring to prog rock, but with the greatest respect to him, he wasn't there when Fish and the lads were building their reputation, their success and their fanbase on progressive rock, and nobody said then that they were something else. Perhaps it was okay when they were in the vanguard of a new revival, but as progressive rock began to slide somewhat back into the shadows and fall out of favour again, the word may have become tainted for Hogarth and the band. But they should all remember that it was from one of Marillion's most proggy records, and indeed their most successful ever, that their biggest hit singles and the one they will always be remembered for and linked with came. It just strikes me as something of a slap in the face to be told “Marillion don't consider themselves prog.” I know every band has to develop and nobody wants to stagnate and stand still, but you still need to remember where you came from.

Which is something that, largely, I believe Marillion forgot on this one.

Anoraknophobia (2001)

(Note: if anyone cares enough to wonder why I've given this album a "Love" rating overall, when I go on to bitch so much about it below, well, what do you expect? I'm a Marillion fanboy! Even their worst album I consider to be better than some by other bands. With one possible exception...)

For a band so savvy about their self-image, marketing and branding, Marillion made two huge mistakes I believe here, music aside. Out of nowhere, so far as I can see, they acquired a mascot, a logo, a symbol for their music. Here he is, standing with all his mates on the front of the album, and they call him Barry. What Barry has to do with Marillion is anyone's guess. From 1982 to 1987 they relied on the Jester as a sort of trademark figure, then for a few albums (well, one) they retained the Marillion logo before ditching that. Fair enough I guess, you're starting out somewhat afresh and you don't want to be associated with the trappings of the past. Move on. But not only did Barry only appear on this one album and never again --- and never be associated, as far as I know, with the brand after that --- he also bears a rather striking resemblance to Kenny from South Park, doesn't he?

So much so, that when I brought the album into work one day and someone saw the CD they thought it was a disc of South Park tunes. When I told them it was Marillion, I was greeted with the inevitable “who?” and I didn't even bother to mention “Kayleigh”. I wasn't surprised nobody knew who they were. I wasn't surprised that they thought the character was Kenny. What I was surprised by was how the resemblance to an already-established cult figure could go unnoticed by Marillion, and also how, to some degree, Trey and his buddy didn't sue them for ripping off their copyrighted work. I guess they dodged that bullet.

But using “Barry” as their new mascot confused me. Who the fuck was this guy? Did he figure in a song on the album? No. Was he your guide around the artwork inside? No. Was he in the videos? I don't know, but I'm gonna say no. Was there anyone in Marillion called Barry? No. So where the fuck did he come from? I suppose as he's technically wearing an anorak on the sleeve (though it's really more of a duffle coat) that might go some way towards tying in with the figure. I'm sure there's some explanation for him on the Marillion website somewhere, but it's been revamped and I think they're as anxious to forget old Barry as I certainly was from the moment I saw him. I didn't like him, I didn't respond to him and I didn't identify with him. So before I had even heard any music I was already in a bad frame of mind vis a vis this album.

Did it turn out to be as bad as I thought it might be? Well, yes and no. It's not the worst Marillion album, but it is a close second. Again there's a lot of the attempt to ditch not only prog music but prog themes, with more mundane, earthy concepts, which I'll get into in due course. IN the press release to accompany the album, and to try of course to further distance themselves from the idea of being a progressive rock band, or at least only a progressive rock band, Marillion challenged reviewers to write their articles using none of the following words: Progressive rock. Genesis. Fish. Concept album. Dinosaurs. Predictable. Heavy Metal. I will now try to tackle each one of these in relation to this album. Here goes:

Progressive rock: despite Marillion's attempt to betray or abandon the core sound and the principles on which their music was founded, there is some progressive rock in here, but less than in the previous outing.

Genesis: Like the band they have been compared to for at this point twenty years, Marillion have followed Genesis and created their own Abacab

Fish: Fish would have hated this, and were he still with Marillion it's very doubtful they would have gone in this direction.

Concept Album: This is not a concept album.

Dinosaurs: Dinosaurs are cool, and I am looking forward to Jurassic World

Heavy Metal: (?) Marillion never were, never could be and never will be even spoken of in the same breath as the words Heavy Metal.

Predictable: It was predictable this album would sell very poorly, despite the pre-orders.

So, that's that then. On with the review.

It starts off very promisingly, with a lovely progressive rock style sad piano intro from Kelly, then Rothery's guitar kicks in and we're kind of in “A Legacy” territory, with another uptempo rocker. “Between you and me” is very much a jangly, guitar-driven song, and anyone who thought this might be a return to prog rock is generally disappointed here, although this is by no means a bad song. I actually really like it; it's just that it continues the trend Marillion were pursuing around this time away from what I regarded as their core sound, trying to appeal to a more commercial, radio-friendly market, and after seven albums of this, with some notable exceptions, it should have been clear this direction was leading them nowhere.

The song changes in the middle on a slow guitar and piano with what could be violins or cellos, probably synth-created, and it does contain one of my favourite lines on the album in ”Feeling like a kid/ Swinging on Heaven's gate/ With no God to complain/ Or point the finger of blame”. It then slides back into the fast guitar melody and continues more or less that way to the end, with some fine organ being added by Kelly, and ending on a sprightly little solo from Rothery. I actually like “Quartz” a whole lot more. It has a deeper progressive feel about it, starting on a very sleazy, jazzy bass line and slow, measured percussion before the vocal comes in, the song being a depiction of the vast differences between two people, enshrined in the lines ”I'm clockwork and you're quartz”. Very clever. Nice Genesisesque (sorry guys but it is) slow rising synth line underpinning the melody, reminds me of that band's self-titled brief return to form in 1983.

After driving the previous song, Steve Rothery is a little more restrained in his guitar histrionics here, sort of emulating Andy Summers on “Walking on the moon”, with the track mostly riding on Trewavas's almost mesmerising bass and Kelly's keyboard flourishes. Here though in a very inadvisable move Hogarth decides to, um, rap. Yeah. It does not end well. Still, it introduces a sublime little guitar passage with some again very Genesis keyboards from Mark. Also some very passionate and achingly yearning vocals from our man Steve. A whole lot better, even given the godawful rap. What were they thinking?

Things continue to improve with “Map of the world”, which, although it hasn't got a prog bone in its body, is still a very decent rock song, taking again a more earthy approach to the lyrics, as we listen to the plans of a girl to save up her money and go around the world, seeing all the places she has never seen before. A far cry from Fish's anti-heroine in “Chelsea Monday”, some twenty years previous! Another really nice strings accompaniment from Kelly, but again the song exists on the guitar of Steve Rothery. Some good lines: ”The lights of the city/ Pushin' a good time/ Are asking her out tonight”. Ultimately though the song is a little straightforward and again you could hear any rock band singing it; it just hasn't got the special Marillion touch about it that I tend to look for from their music.

So far, so not so bad. Now we get one of the absolute standouts, as the first ballad, but so much more than that, hits in the shape of “When I meet God”. Opening on a soft orchestral style line with sharp yet gentle guitar as Hogarth asks ”If the bottle is no solution/ Why does it feel so warm?/ And if that girl is no solution/ Why did she feel so warm?” It's a desperate plea for there to be something, someone, anything to make sense of this world, as he promises ”When I meet God/ I'm gonna ask her/ What makes her cry?/ What makes her laugh?” and asks ”Why do the gods/ Sit back and watch/ So many lost/ What kind of mother/ Leaves a child in the traffic/ Turning tricks in the dark?”

It's a beautiful, fragile, stark and heartbreaking song with its open honesty and its raw emotion, and possibly one of the greatest accomplishments of the post-Fish era. It's really that good. It gets me every time, especially the newsclips that fade out over the end, one of the discovery of the body of Sarah Payne, another of the crash of Concorde. Had they made this album a few months later, no doubt 9/11 would have been one of those clips. A beautiful midsection is driven by soft guitar and a voice saying “Don't do that/ Stay in”. It's something of a slight return to form for Marillion, the song one of the three epics on the album, edging over the nine-minute mark.

Sadly, after that it really takes a nose dive, only slightly rescued by the penultimate track. “The fruit of the wild rose” does nothing for me, with its slow bluesy/funky guitar and its seventies organ. There's nothing really wrong with it I guess, I just have never liked it. The construction of the song seems a little off to me. What the hell would I know? True. But if there's one track on this album I really don't like then this is it. I particularly hate the way it ends. “Separated out” has a lot more balls, though it opens with a pretty disturbing clip from one of those movies about carnival freaks, and indeed ends with another. It's a hard-rocking guitar track, though honestly what it's about I have no idea, unless it's simply the idea of being alienated because you're different. It certainly has a lot of energy and Kelly gives it his all on the synth, though he does rob a descending riff from “Light my fire”. The vocal I feel could be stronger, and the chant ”We accept her/ One of us! One of us!/ Gooble gobble!” (or something) is just weird and offputting to me.

Making a valiant effort to save the album, as I said, “This is the 21st century” brings back in those trip-hop influences we first heard in “House” on the previous album, with a nice whistling keyboard line and a dark guitar sound that really suits the track. It's slow, but I wouldn't call it a ballad: the melody is far too ominous and dramatic for that, and the lyric concerns the woes of the world, as Hogarth sings ”A wise man once said/ That everything could be explained/ With mathematics” and ”The universe demystified/ Chemicals for gods”. There's a real shimmering synth line winding through the melody, echoey and hollow sounding, which gives it a kind of ethereal feel. Hogarth's vocal is really up to snuff here as he wails ”I cried 'What's it all about?'/ And she kissed my hair/ She said 'There, there...'”

It's by far the longest song on the album at just over eleven minutes and in ways I hear snatches of “Out of the blue” from Afraid of Sunlight here in places. Great extended instrumental ending, but then it all comes crashing down with a bang as they close with the distinctly sub-par “If my heart were a ball it would roll uphill”. What? I have seriously tried several times to listen to this song but I still couldn't tell you how it goes. I'm just bored by it. Okay, so there's a powerful guitar opening with strong percussion in a sort of slow blues/boogie rhythm and an impressive rising vocal from Hogarth, but it's just never impressed me as a song, and as a closer it's weak and limpwristed and does nothing for the album, which seriously already needs all the help it can get. I do like the idea that they throw in the line ”She was only dreaming” which attends the fadeout of “Chelsea Monday” on Script for a Jester's Tear (never noticed that before; see? I told you I couldn't listen to the song all the way through) and a sort of dark synth with a military rolling beat finishes the song off as Hogarth becomes a parody of Michael Hutchence or something. Again, it ends badly and leaves me with a sour taste in my mouth.

TRACKLISTING AND RATING

1. Between you and me
2. Quartz
3. Map of the world
4. When I meet God
5. The fruit of the wild rose
6. Separated out
7. This is the 21st century
8. If my heart were a ball it would roll uphill

I feel that here, Marillion kind of reached their creative nadir. No, that's completely unfair. This is not a terrible album by any means. But it does contain probably the least amount of tracks per album that I enjoyed, with quite a lot of what I would have to regard as filler, and that's not normal procedure for a Marillion album. It struggles to maintain my interest as it goes along; starts well, dips rather badly, recovers partially and then drops over a cliff. It's unfortunate that they didn't switch the last two tracks, as if the last song I had heard listening to this had been “This is the 21st century” I might have been better disposed towards forgiving some of the sub-par material here. But you basically (or I do anyway) tend to judge an album, initially anyway, on its closing track as this is the one you will be humming to yourself afterwards, and I can't even hum “If my heart were a ball if would roll uphill”.

This album could have been great if three tracks had been left off and one or two other better ones added. As it is, the bad tends to drag down the good, and there really isn't enough excellent material to countermand that. They had stated at the release of the album that they wanted to create something totally different to anything they had written before, and they certainly did. Unfortunately, it seems to me that they were just a little too clever this time, and kind of outsmarted themselves.

Oh, and fuck Barry. And they did. He never again appeared on any Marillion sleeve or remained connected with the band, from what I saw. Good riddance to the little cunt.

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Trollheart: Signature-free since April 2018