But, He took her away from us, and I was at a complete loss as to why, left with an indescribable emptiness and unremitting remorse. After all, as a father, God gives us one really important job: raise, protect, and nurture your children. I would visit her grave daily and lose my voice screaming at God. Amazingly enough, we have a cemetery across the street from us, and we buried her not far from our house.įor that first year after her death, I was a complete and total wreck. MARILLION BRAVE MEANING FULLShe had come to full term-two days plus nine months, in fact-when she became entangled in her own umbilical cord. Hogarth is begging us to answer, “how do we now come to be afraid of sunlight”? It is a plea for a recognition of the human condition, in all of its majesty and tragedy.Īs some of you know, and I’ve shared from time to time, my wife and I lost a daughter in August 2007. Or, daring to be great and excellent in track five, “Out of this World”:Īnd, finally resolving in track six, “Afraid of Sunlight”:Įach of these four tracks builds in soulful intensity and bardic purpose until Mr. So how do we now come to be afraid of sunlight Or, Stoic resignation in track four, “Afraid of Sunrise”: Take these lyrics from track three, “Beautiful,” expressing the desire to be unashamed of loving what is good and true in this world, whatever the crowd might say. Afraid of Sunlight might be the second iteration of the band’s most romantic album. The first iteration was exact, while the second was (and is) fluid. Both iterations of the band were, certainly, progressive rock, but in radically different ways. The music of the band changed, going from staccato-esque precision to lush romanticism. In the 1980s, Marillion emerged as one of the world’s leading prog bands, but, in the late 1980s, the band lost its lead singer, replacing him with the brilliant Steve Hogarth. I was immediately drawn into what is now known as progressive rock-extended chamberlike rock music and extended symphonic rock suites based, quite often, on European song structures and African jazz rhythms and time signatures, often telling complex stories through the lyrics. In 1972 or 1973, when I was five or six, I came across the triple-gatefold album of Yes’s live set, Yessongs, filled with paintings by Roger Dean. Regardless, music has shaped my imagination and my worldview as much as anything. My mom and my brothers would come down the stairs of our split-level ranch in Great Bend, Kansas-so I’m told-to find me dancing wildly. I personally loved music so much, that even as a toddler, I would crawl out of bed, go down the stairs, and play the family stereo system at full blast in the middle of the night, waking up the whole household. We turned to the stereo system more readily than to the TV. There was always a classical, a jazz, or a rock album playing, and, sometimes, even musicals. My house and childhood were filled with it from my earliest memories. Indeed, the entire album centers around its middle tracks-”Beautiful,” “Afraid of Sunrise,” “Out of this World,” and “Afraid of Sunlight”-bracketed by two tracks at the beginning of the album, and two at the end.Īt this point, it might be worth pausing (and, I have decided that it is worth it) and asking just why I might be writing such an essay for The Imaginative Conservative, as rock music has appeared only every so often in the ten years of TIC’s existence.Īs far back as I can remember, I have loved music. What was truly surprising, though, was Marillion’s equally tenacious attempt to write a rock album dedicated-at times, rather blatantly-to pursuing the good, the true, and the beautiful. Not surprisingly, given the title, Marillion tried to capture ideas of the press, public revelation, and celebrity. Adventurous from the opening boisterous note of track one to the longing final note of track eight, the album is pure Marillion, but with serious notes toward some of pop music’s greats, such as the Beach Boys (with a direct reference to the reclusive Brian Wilson) and the Beatles. Written much faster than the previous meticulous concept album, 1994’s Brave, Afraid of Sunlight offered eight diverse tracks with a total run time of just fifty-one and ½ minutes. With immense pressure from the band’s label, EMI, to “produce a hit,” Marillion released its eighth studio album, Afraid of Sunlight, in the early summer of 1995, twenty-five years ago. In fact, a particular song by the band Marillion-whose album “Afraid of Sunlight” celebrates the good, the true, and the beautiful-took on religious significance for me. Music has shaped my imagination and my worldview as much as anything. As far back as I can remember, I have loved music.
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