In 2004, my love of Marillion was at its peak. I had been obsessed with them from 1989, when I first really listened to them (see Love At First Sight - My First Marillion Gig). But by 1995 my tastes had moved on with the times - Britpop was in and Marillion just were not cool. In fact, they were very very uncool. I had bought Beautiful, the first single from their 8th album (4th with singer Steve Hogarth) Afraid Of Sunlight. I really didn't like Beautiful. I thought it was weak, soppy, vapid even (I like it a lot now). I drifted away from them, not buying Afraid Of Sunlight and not seeing them again live for several years.
In 1996, I got a job back in London and one of my colleagues was a huge fan, banging on about them all the time. She taped me a copy of This Strange Engine - I think I only listened to the first track, Man Of A Thousand Faces, which I liked, but I couldn't be arsed with the rest of it. But I kept an eye on what they were doing. I liked the more modern artwork of albums such as Radiation and Marillion.com. And then I finally took a punt and bought the latter album, along with their latest album, Anoraknophobia. Marillion.com was ok, not great, but it had its moments. Go!, A Legacy, Rich, Interior Lulu were all fab.
Anoraknophobia, their 12th album, was, however, amazing. It was wildly inventive, full of pop hooks and quirks. It had been the first crowd-sourced album ever and the fans had in effect freed the band from the pressure of record labels and the limitations that came with that relationship. This record had their old prog feel, but updated with trip-hop, blues, rap even. There was not a duff track on it and I played it obsessively.
I went and saw them at the Astoria in London in 2001, for the first time in ten years. The band had got fans to vote for their favourite tracks and the band played the top five selected, opening with the fan-selected winner, This Strange Engine. I had not got to the end of the tape my colleague had leant me a few years before, so hadn't heard it, but was blown away. Marillion were firmly reinstated as my obsession from that moment onwards. The rest of the gig was a joy (it remains one of my favourites).
From here, I travelled to Cardiff to see them play the whole of 1994's Brave as a warm up for one of their weekend gigs. I saw them play a stunning gig at the Union Chapel, then travelled up to Northampton to see them play the whole of Afraid Of Sunlight, again another Weekend warm-up. I bought all the albums I missed. I even saw singer Steve Hogarth play a gig with his own band at Dingwalls, playing a brilliant set of solo tracks, amazing covers (Bowie, Gabriel, Floyd, XTC, Jeff Buckley and Fleetwood Mac), then again at the Mean Fiddler.
By 2004, I was a mad fan, boring the arse of anyone and everyone about their genius. I was evangelical, preaching to the resistant and very sceptical masses (or my poor friends and colleagues as they might be better described). I threatened to fire one colleague if she didn’t come and see them (really, I am amazed I was not slapped on the wrist by HR or indeed that we are such close friends now). When the band kicked off their second crowd-funding campaign for their 13th album, I signed up immediately.
The album was preceded by a single, You're Gone, which was released as two CD singles plus a DVD single - I bought all three on the day of release. When they made the charts, reaching number 7, I was elated. Like those football fans who baffle me when they say "we won"! I felt the same joy and pride - "we are top ten".
That album, Marbles, came out at the end of April 2004. I was away when the pre-order arrived at home. I was desperate to get back from my trip, and rushed to the post office to collect my missed parcel. My first wife really hated the band, but kindly went upstairs so I could play the whole thing in peace (my second wife, Mrs JO'B as she is known on this blog, went one stage further and had a clause included in our wedding vows that I am not allowed to play Marillion in the house while she is in, much to the amusement of my mates).
The album was a little overwhelming so it needed a second spin. But I loved it. There was no concept as such, but there was a connecting theme, with the title track split into four sections, spread over the album, with other songs referencing each other across the lyrics. The four segments of Marbles recounted Hogarth's childhood love of marbles, confiscated after a misdemeanour involving a racket and a greenhouse window, but also reflected on the loneliness and madness of touring and travel. The album was released in two versions - a shorter version with some tracks skipped so it formed a coherent single album, and the full double.
As one of the 1,000s of crowd funders, my name appeared in the gorgeous CD box and booklet, which I proudly showed my rather bemused friends. The album was genius I would proclaim, again citing the trip hop Massive Attack meets Pink Floyd of The Invisible Man, the Abbey Road Beatles pop of The Damage, the soulful balladeering of Fantastic Place, the Crowded House harmonies of Don't Hurt Yourself, the XTC psychedelia of Drilling Holes or the epic prog that is Ocean Cloud (all 18 minutes of it). Those 18 minutes are not indulgent as you might think; the music ebbs and flows, surging as the song describes the threat and danger that solo rower Don Allum faced on his many escapades (Allum was the first man to row solo across the Atlantic in both directions).
Genie is almost Britpop in places (no, really..) while the closing track, Neverland, is one of their most perfect moments, with its Peter Pan references to lost love. It's the track where Steve Rothery out Gilmour's the Pink Floyd guitarist, imho.
In his marvellous book, Themes For Great Cities (A History Of Simple Minds), author Graeme Thomson recalls speaking to The Blue Nile’s singer Paul Buchanan. Buchanan told him “We tried to surrender to being in a group, to get out of the way of the music”. That perfectly sums up Marillion and indeed Marbles. Taking their time, sacrificing the individual’s preferences to achieve something collective and inspiring.
I saw them play the shortened version live twice in London that year and also travelled across to Tilburg in the Netherlands to see them play. I finally got to see the full double at the Marillion weekend in Montreal in 2015. Playing the whole of Anoraknophobia and Marbles was just too good to miss and was worth the massive shell out to fly to Canada for a few days to see them play four times in three days. There I met some truly lovely people, especially the marvellous Chris Riley who took me under his wing for a few days. Chris had previously bought some official bootleg CDs from me, which I was selling to fund my trip to Canada. I am still FB friends with Chris, Graham and Keith, all splendid chaps who chatted to me at various points that weekend.
Since Marbles and those 2004 shows, I have seen them a further 16 times (27 in total) - I'm a rank amateur compared to the hardcore fans that adore them. I loved, and still love, the 2007 album Somewhere Else, which is not a favourite amongst the fans. I enjoyed their poppier side shining through, a change after the more epic Marbles.
Happiness Is The Road in 2008 was too much for me, feeling half finished, a bit like Taylor Swift's recent album - she couldn't be arsed to whittle it down to a decent single, so just chucked everything out with little quality control. Marillion did the same. I also think that album is tainted for me as I had an altercation at that tour’s Forum show in London in 2008. I had come straight from a Trustees' meeting that evening, arriving late and suited and booted (I was, and indeed am, a director of a charity). As I walked away from the bar with my pint, a short man who had Pete Trewavas' mid-90s ponytail, but had the face of a weasel, slammed into me spilling my pint and soaking my suit. He and his dickhead mates then laughed and told me it was my own fault for wearing a suit. So much for the family feeling I had experienced at previous shows - the above Mr Riley and friends restored my faith again in 2015.
2012's Sounds That Can't Be Made had its moments, especially the epic Gaza and The Sky Above The Rain. I took a girlfriend to the 2012 show, fearing she would hate them. She told me loudly during the show that she liked the noodley guitar, but thought the singer was an "annoying twat". We left early due to the scowls from fans around us (totally fair on their part).
Another international trip to see them again in 2016, this time to NYC. I couldn't really connect with the show though, as that night Donald Trump was elected and the world took a turn for the much worse - how prescient their Fuck Everyone And Run (F.E.A.R) had been. Mrs JO'B had wangled backstage passes through work so I could meet the band and although I had a nice chat with Mark Kelly, we just needed to go to a bar and take in the horror of Trump in power. The album they were touring then, F.E.A.R, was great in places (The Leavers is amongst their finest work) but bits of it left me cold. Although they have always cut up pieces of music they jammed to create songs, these felt bolted together in places, rather than having the natural the flow of the more epic suites on Marbles.
I missed the 2017 Royal Albert Hall show, choosing instead to spend 9 hours in A&E with pneumonia. Disappointing, but made up for by Mrs JO'B drunkenly proposing to me the next evening, having not enjoyed seeing me so ill and not being "next of kin". (I still secretly think she found the sight of me fainting in my backless hospital gown as they put a cannula into my arm overwhelmingly attractive, but I am in a minority of one in believing this).
I did see both nights when they next played the RAH with a string and horn backing in 2019, blown away by the huge reworkings of their old songs. I took two friends (one to each night) and neither hated it - progress at last!
Since then they have released An Hour Before It's Dark in 2022. Again, illness stopped me seeing them play the Roundhouse when they toured this. I have struggled again to connect with this album, once more feeling that in places it sounds to be like pieces of music that are cut and shunt together, rather than songs. I know their fanatical fanbase would disagree with me, and it's due another listen. Care has now hit the mark, giving me the epic shivers down my spine as I walk over Westminster Bridge to work. Hopefully, the rest of the album will click soon.
So there we have it - Marbles was probably my "peak-Marillion" fandom. I still think of them fondly and will definitely go and see them next time they play (almost certainly on my tod). It's the best prog-rock album I have ever heard (though I am sure someone will tell me it's Jethro Tull's Aqualung or something awful by Gentle Giant). And though my default favourite album ever is The Beatles' Revolver, on a good day, when the mood takes me on a long walk, this edges ahead of it. If they had released this under another name, I genuinely think more people would have loved it. The perils of associations with the past, when they were a very different band.
If they played Marbles in its entirety again, I would be at the front of queue to see them. I will go back and give those albums that I struggle with another go, and will pick up the next album whenever this surfaces. As we all get older, inevitably, there is an end coming for them. And when they do finally stop (they have been going in one form or another for 45 years so far), the world will be a sadder, less fantastic, place. And I will be playing their albums to any poor fool who agrees to come over for dinner (but only when Mrs JO'B is out of ear-shot - a contract is a contract).
And this is a rarity - a whole Marillion blog that does mention Taylor Swift, but doesn't mention Fish! Oh. Bugger...
Stay safe, and if you enjoyed this, please subscribe (see link below), x
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