Marillion – An Hour Before It’s Dark

What does it sound like?:

Marillion are an act which could have a t-shirt with their name on a Marmite jar, such are the polarised views about them. They are a very different band from 35 years ago, and really shouldn’t have to keep apologising. They took a different direction with the change of singer (we cannot call him “new”, given Steve Hogarth has been with them since 1989 and the band have rarely looked back). Yes, there were still soaring guitar breaks, but they were concise and to the point, the focus is on tunes and ensemble playing and excellent arrangements rather than flash mock-classicism, and lyrics are contemporary. The last album, “FEAR” was far superior to that normally heard from a bandof their age, and the response from a mature audience desperate for a decent album from a name band in this field led to Marillion’s star rising again, with sold-out tours, and grown men (and long-suffering wives) overcome by the emotional sensibilities and harsh realities of the lyrics. And that was before COVID and the invasion of Ukraine. This album continues that arc.

“An hour before it’s dark” is a reflection of mortality and tempus fugit, and something we are all becoming a bit too mindful of. Musically, this is an extension of FEAR; keyboards mostly provide atmospheres, guitar solos soar then step back, the rhythm section is tasteful and supportive, and no hook is left unbaited. Steve Hogarth was initially inclined to avoid the pandemic in his lyrics, but it sneaked through, anyway, in spirit if not in specificity. “Be Hard On Yourself” was previewed on the last tour, and races along enthusiastically. “Reprogramme the Gene” touches on transgender, Greta T, “the future … begins with the letter C” (“Care”, rather than ‘rona). “Only a kiss” is a jazzyish cameo that leads to “Murder Machines”, another reflection on biology and death. “The Crow and the Nightingale” is a kind of thank-you to Leonard Cohen, also name-dropping Cristo (the conceptual artist that used to wrap things up to make us consider what is being concealed and if you CAN conceal): I do like a bit of intellectual curatorship to open people to ideas and constructs the listener may not know.

The well-intentioned “Sierre Leone” is about love and blood diamonds (? I think?) and avoids the cultural-appropriation trap; the music could also apply to Estonia, Montreal, or Sunset Hill, and does not involve African percussion, hi-life guitars, or uplifting choral moments, so thumbs-up for avoiding world music clichés. I found it a bit slow and thin on the first few listens, but that’s me. The final track is “Care” (see above) and is a magnum-opus (15 minutes and 20 seconds) on raging against the dying of the light, touching on all that makes Marillion loved and hated; fans will love it, skeptics and sour, miserable, and up-themselves types will find it over-wrought. Marillion and their fans have realised the loneliness of being right a long time ago, and will not give a toss. Hogarth repeatedly uses the phrase “an domhan” (Irish/ gaelic for “the world”) and the truth that the world is all we have, and where we will all likely pass. It rises to crescendos cherishing love and care, and the special moments that enrich our existence. The ending section (“Angels On Earth”) will have wet eyes and lumpy throats when the track is performed live, and may well end up played at some people’s funerals.

What does it all *mean*?

Marillion are clearly quite serious in their views, and this was not a matter of banging out some widdle and wet lyricism, or bludgeoning the listener with a million chord changes. They are a thoughtful bunch of chaps mindful of realities beyond themselves, and because of their loyal fandom, can say and do what they like. One finds they are saying and doing what their fans are. Maybe this is the secret of Marillion’s ongoing niche success is that they articulate decent and caring values for people who, having come of musical age decades ago, need more than Coldplay. I found it needed a few more listens to get it, but that’s OK. I don’t think it’s as immediate as FEAR, others will disagree. When it starts to fly, you need to hold on.

Goes well with…

Reflecting on reality as one sees the news, and trying to do one’s best despite it all. Hoping things get better. Knowing we are finite, and no amount of ego will counter that fact; “We’re not green, we’re just pleasant”, as their lyric said on the previous album.

Release Date:

Out now, pop-pickers

Might suit people who like…

Marillion, tuneful adult rock, progressive fans who accept that music continued after 1974, and that adult responsibilities sometimes come first.

6