Start At The Begining
Some say it’s a very good place to start. This is often followed by spinning round in unnecessarily wide skirts before placing one’s hand on one’s brows and professing a desire to sit down. Or run up a hill for more singing. It’s way more Julie Andrews than Kate Bush.
Actually that’s worth pursuing more, to wit, in life I find it often helpful, nay advantageous to be less Julie Andrews and more Kate Bush.
But that’s not what I had in mind when I hoisted myself in front of ye olde writer of type.
Not at all.
Prompted by the appearance of a lyric from Marillion’s Grendel as here this morning I have embarked on a listening voyage. I have afixed two of my best ears to my head, squeezed a goodly amount of coffee from the bean plant in the study and curled up in the listening pod for a concerted intake of Mariilion.
No massive change there then, the sounds of Steves Hogarth, Rothery and colleagues often ring out in the fair orchards of Thangcentral, but for this listening I have returned to the roots. The Fish Era.
I can remember where I was when I first heard that Fish had left Marillion. My fine friend and fellow Fish fan, Matt (no link to the old guy in the hat) Pope broke the news as we met before attending a house party that was shut down by the Police after a rather nice house was trashed by a large number of drunk 16 year olds.
Point of note. Inviting a shit load of kids who have just done their GCSEs to a party because your parents are away is never a good idea. Adding an at the time, essential need to get pissed into the equation is a recipe that in this case ended with the bathroom sink being pulled away from the wall and a dodgy Polaroid of what was reported to be the host’s mother’s lady garden being circulated, to the delight of the drunken hoards.
Where was I?
So early Marillion – in times gone by (i.e. those referred to above) I would have strongly denied that Marillion sounded anything like Genesis. Genesis was Phil Collins and shiny suits Marillion were nothing like them, what the fart are you talking about, get away from me demon. Which just goes to show that I knew chuff all about what I was talking. l’m now much further along the path of Prog enlightenment and can admit without stuttering or breaking out in a sweat that one section in ‘Grendel’ does sound a bit (!) like a section from the Genesis classic ‘Supper’s ready’. There, I’ve said it, and the world is still spinning. Ah with age comes wisdom and the need to shave ones ears.
So, ‘Script For A Jester’s Tear’ eh. Healthy dose of widdly widdly keys from Mr. Kelly, Rothery showing some guitar work which hints at his impending deification, Fish is hitting the ‘I’m confused, tortured, misunderstood’ button hard (ah the heady internal dialogue of the 16 year old, one could almost call it quaint) and Pete Trewavas is as rock solid as ever. Which bring us onto the percussive work of Mick Pointer. Well as we all know he was replaced eventually by Ian Mosley, so let’s not dwell on any short comings shall we. When I was first listening to Fish and the boys I didn’t notice any, so there.
Well, since I’ve been scribbling this the sun has crawled above the parapets and I’m now part way through ‘Fugazi’.
And what an enjoyable experience it’s been. I do enjoy diving back into albums that you know back to front and inside out but haven’t listened to for a few years. Suddenly you get this familiarity mixed with a dose of ‘oh i never noticed that before’. Always recommended. The only issue is that you have to spend a lot of time listening to it in the first place and then a lot of time not listening to it. But as they say, ‘Garden Centres now sell breakfasts and bedding plants’. It has to be said I’m very much looking forward to ‘Misplaced’ and ‘Clutching’, by this point I really think the boys had hit their stride. Then Fish left.
I can remember where I was when I first found out……..
Unclethang 
Recent Comments