Marillion - F.E.A.R. album review
On what’s undoubtedly one of the finest albums of their entire career, Marillion deliver dark truths with an incredible lightness of touch on F.E.A.R.
Picture this: the elegant arches of The Underglobe, set on the banks of the river Thames. An oak tree growing up from the ground, up and into, and seemingly out of, the roof. In the background, there’s the gentle hubbub of the 2016 Prog Awards, which is just thrumming into life when Prog pigeonholes a nonplussed Steve Rothery near the bar. Peter Hammill glances curiously over, Steve Hackett drifts past, a glass of red wine in hand. We’d waited patiently for four years, and now, Prog wants to know where FEAR features in the grand scale of all things Marillion.
“It’s right up there for me,” says Rothery confidently, without skipping a beat. “As good as Sounds That Can’t Be Made, Afraid Of Sunlight, Marbles.”
Which is a bold statement, especially when you consider it comes from a man who tends to err towards understatement. Stranger still to mull the matter over in a gilded venue that brings new meaning to the term ‘salubrious’, given that FEAR is all about things falling apart, watching the world crumble before our very eyes.
Brimming with resentment but with a dark, intractable beauty.