Don’t let ‘F.E.A.R.’ of prog rock keep you from Marillion’s latest

Alas, being a family publication, the full title to Marillion’s new album can’t be referenced here. Excluding the beginning expletive, it translates to “Everyone and Run,” but the abbreviation really tells the story.

The recording offers a set of topically turbulent and inwardly unsettling works — three extended suites buoyed by three shorter pieces — from the veteran British prog band. It’s also a beaut of a record, one that is as sonically majestic as it is lyrically distressing.

The problem many audiences have with prog bands, especially vintage ones like Marillion, is the perception their music is a bloated mesh of indulgent musicianship with narratives intended on fancy that skyrocket into pure pretentiousness. But ever since vocalist, frontman and lyricist Steve Hogarth changed the face of the band from a Genesis clone into a more socially and poetically aware unit in 1989, Marillion has largely steered clear of prog’s stereotypical excesses. In fact, it has managed to release three true classics under his stewardship: “This Strange Engine” (1997), “Marbles” (2004) and “Sound That Can’t Be Made” (2012). “F.E.A.R.” may well prove an addition to the list.

Lyrically, this is a record about a Brexit-beaten Great Britain, although the references to big money and its suffocating effects on democracy (“The New Kings”) and a shamed society unwilling to face up to the realities of refugee migration (“El Dorado”) aren’t that far removed from controversies on these shores. “I see myself in them,” Hogarth sings in the latter suite. “The people at the borders, waiting to exist again.”

The shorter “Living in Fear” is, despite the title, more hopeful. Written as a prayer of strength and peace with a touch of defiance (“Will you let one lost soul change what we stand for? I don’t think so”), the tune works itself into a choral lather with a “yeah yeah” chant that reflects subtle pop smarts as it courts a sense of hippie-dom.

The highlight, though, is the least politically inclined work on the album. “The Leavers” takes its cue from the band’s own existence as touring musicians, viewing society as two classes — the leavers, who surrender to curiosity and travel, and the remainers, a steadfastly content (or are they?) legion of homebodies.

All this doesn’t even take into account how strong “F.E.A.R.” is sonically with keyboardist Mark Kelly and guitarist Steve Rothery at the helm of beautifully orchestrated backdrops with Hogarth countering with vocals that suit the music’s anthemic drive while regularly downshifting to hushed senses of world weariness.

Marillion has never been a band that has been on everyone’s radar. “F.E.A.R” may not change that. But it’s a record of the times that counters its dour world view with music of rich beauty and dimension. In short, there is nothing to be afraid of here.

This story was originally published November 3, 2016 at 1:21 PM with the headline "Don’t let ‘F.E.A.R.’ of prog rock keep you from Marillion’s latest."