2nd November, 2009 - Always The Cliches - But Nevertheless

I went to see Marillion at the Renfrew Ferry last night with my pal The Advisor. Marillion are a band from my youth, and there was a point in my life where I largely lived for them. I could tell you every lyric. I knew the background of all the musicians. I pored over the artwork on their albums.

Over the years they changed their singer, and I suppose that I grew up. There became less room in my life to lie on my bedroom floor, glorying in the band’s angst-ridden tales of fist love and lost love. And it was with some trepidation that I returned to see them last night. And in some ways, the trepidation was not misjudged. In 1987, the band were distant and slightly God-like. They were only to be glimpsed in the pages of rock magazines, and from the middle of huge concert halls. But last night, they had become human. In a crowded but small venue, they were close enough to talk to. They had middle-aged paunches and dyed hair, and they looked a bit like you and me.

They clearly have a good and loyal fan-base (made up almost exclusively of 40something men who work in IT and do not take regular exercise it would appear) and the whole gig had a rather pleasant family-feel with audience and band sharing in-jokes and rather enjoying each other’s company. However, I missed the days when I was able to elevate them to a position where they seemed more than normal, more than musicians. I miss the days when I felt that they were almost unbearably important.

Mostly this was not their fault. It is my fault for getting older. But – and maybe I am wrong about this too – it seemed to me to be more of a cottage industry than a rock gig. But then, they have got older too. They have families to support and mortgages to pay I daresay. Rock and roll is no longer the preserve of the young and the footloose.