While announcements heralding retirements, 'final' tours, and subsequent reunions are an ever-present feature in the rock world; there are a few artists who I believe when they say that enough is indeed enough. Fish, the Scottish singer who's musical career started in 1981 when he joined the fledgling progressive rock band Marillion, is one such act. Retirement has clearly been on Fish's mind for some. He has been hinting at calling it a day for quite a few years, but he felt that he had one more album in him before finally hanging up his old jester garb. That album is the sprawling, emotional, and hard-hitting Weltschmerz (the German word for 'world-weariness' or a 'sadness at the state of the world' - for which we have no direct English translation) - a lengthy double album that has been long in the making. I remember the name Weltschmerz being thrown around back in 2015, not long after the main touring cycle for 2013's excellent A Feast of Consequences (which I reviewed here) came to close. I think even back then Fish was saying that it would probably be his final album, but I knew back then that its release would be a long way off. Nothing Fish does ever seems to go quite to plan, but being a Fish fan those bumps in the road become part of the journey. He always wears his heart on his sleeve, and is very open with his fans about such bumps. As a result, we as fans became as invested in this album's genesis as Fish was - and it is that that makes Weltschmerz a very bitter-sweet album. While I certainly do not have as much history with Fish as many of his fans do, I have been a big fan of his since around 2008. At the time I was heavily ingesting his work with Marillion, but a show at The Wharf in Tavistock that was promoting 2007's 13th Star was what truly converted me to Fish as a solo artist and a personality. I have followed his work ardently ever since, and it is this that makes Weltschmerz so bitter-sweet. On the one hand I am celebrating what Fish has achieved throughout his career with this latest album, but on the other hand I am also waving him goodbye. All that being said however, Fish deserves to go out on a high. His career, particularly as a solo artist, has not always been easy - but the last few years have seen him rising through the ranks again, releasing critically-acclaimed albums, and pulling healthy crowds on tour. Health scares and family commitments have had their impact, but Fish can certainly look back and be proud of what he has achieved. It is fitting too that Weltschmerz finally saw the light of day in 2020 - 30 years after the release of his debut solo album Vigil in a Wilderness of Mirrors. All of this hyperbole would be for nothing however if the final album did not live up to expectations, but thankfully it does - and then some. Weltschmerz is certainly not always an easy listen, nor is it an album that easily gives up all of its secrets - but it is one that gradually reveals itself over many listens. There is very little traditional rock to be found here, and as a result the album is possibly the most melancholic and atmospheric of his career. Backing up the big man throughout the album is a large cast of characters - some of whom have worked with Fish many times throughout his career as well as some new faces. Regular collaborators Robin Boult, Steve Vantsis, and Foss Paterson are all featured here; as well as other names from the modern progressive rock scene such as John Mitchell (Arena; Kino; Frost*; It Bites; Lonely Robot); Liam Holmes (Touchstone); and Craig Blundell (Frost*; Pendragon; Steven Wilson; Steve Hackett).
Despite all the talent involved, and the writing contributions of his collaborators (particularly Vantsis and Boult), Weltschmerz is still firmly Fish's vision. As a lyricist and a teller of stories, there are few better - and it is possible that this album contains some of his most poignant creations yet. While vocally Fish may not be the singer that he was, as a writer he is still up there with the very best. Each of the ten songs that make up this double album are packed with imagery - and it is fitting that the album kicks off with one of the most vibrant. The Grace of God, which was influenced by Fish's recent health scares, is a perfect mix of haunting and defiant - a vibe which defines the overall album for me - and, sound wise, it sets out the kind of tapestries that listeners can expect from the next 80 or so minutes of music. The slow grind of hospital machinery and swirling synths open the song, before a percussive verse built around Blundell's low-key drum groove takes over. In many ways, this low-key approach is a sign of things to come. Despite Weltschmerz at times being Fish's most lush creation in many years, there are also times when a very stripped-back approach is taken. This bare-bones vibe really allows Fish's lyrics and stories to shine through; and it makes you appreciate the power of the collective when the band take on more of the heavy lifting. There is little of that true heavy lifting here however, at least early on, as much of the song is certainly more of a soundscape than anything else. Subtle strings and synths weave themselves in and among the vocals and grooves to gently elevate some of the melodies - while Doris Brendel (The Violet Hour) intertwines her ethereal voice with Fish's during the mutteringly strident choruses. As with many of the songs here however, the song does build as it moves along. Big acoustic guitar chords kick in about half way through, and the rest of the song slowly builds around this progression. The drums become punchier, and the string section really dominates - their dramatic melodies perfectly complimenting the more pronounced grooves. All of this building culminates in a much more expressive version of the song's chorus, which brings the piece to a rallying close around Fish's defiant cry of 'and there but for the grace of God go I'. The album moves into more familiar territory next with Man With a Stick, one of three songs here that were released ahead of the 2018 tour as part of the A Parley With Angels EP. As far as I can tell, the versions of the EP material presented here are the same versions that were previously released - but when presented within the full context of the album the songs come alive even more. Man With a Stick is one of the album's most hard rocking moments, with drummer Dave Stewart's groove driving everything forward while Boult's gnarly guitar textures create a heavy, oppressive atmosphere. Some Fish songs are little more than backdrops for his tales, which sometimes is all that they need to be, but this one is much more musical in its own right. Paterson's dancing synths leads are very old-school prog, and a nod back to Fish's 1980s work; but the overall interlocking grooves have a great modern feel. The song itself is very catchy too, and as a result it is one of the most accessible pieces here - which is probably why it was popular on Planet Rock when it was released back in 2018.
Walking on Eggshells is almost a perfect mix of the album's opening two numbers. It is certainly more soundscape-esque than Man With a Stick, but there is a bit more of a harder rock aesthetic when compared with The Grace of God. Whimsical, acoustic-based sections showcase Fish at his vocal best; while heavier sections with dancing strings and punchy drumming help to push the song's emotional tale. It is the sort of song that has only really opened itself up to me over numerous listens. There are a few songs here that needed full immersion before I fully appreciated them, and I am sure that I still have a lot to discover throughout the album, but this is one I feel that I have a much better handle on now. The intertwining guitar passages throughout the song really help bring it to life, while the vocal interplay between Fish and Brendel seems to help with the overall story. In Brendel, Fish has perhaps found the perfect harmony vocalist. Her overall tone is not too dissimilar to Fish's, but her higher notes are a perfect foil for his deeper delivery. She is perhaps put to best use here, with her harmonies really lifting the song to heights that it would not reach otherwise. This Party's Over is possibly the simplest track here, and as a result it is one of the catchiest. The main chorus hook here is a winner, and it really throws the clock back to Fish's early solo albums that mixed folk-like storytelling in with his dense progressive rock arrangements. Jaunty acoustic guitars form the basis of the track, while bursts of hearty saxophone from David Jackson (Van der Graaf Generator) provide great counter melodies to Fish's stadium-worthy chorus. Many of the songs here are dense and full of deep, emotional stories - but This Party's Over certainly feels like the album's hoedown. The track is certain to become a great live number on Fish's final tours, with audience participation during the chorus very likely to be encouraged by the big man. It is perhaps by design then that the album's first disc (and half) finishes with easily the most complex song here. Moving from the jaunty This Party's Over to the dense, meandering Rose of Damascus really showcases the scope of Fish's songwriting on this album. Rose of Damascus is the longest single track of music that Fish has ever put together in his career, and it tells the story of a teenage girl fleeing Syria in the wake of the ongoing conflict there. I love how the tone of the song changes throughout its 15-plus minutes. The girl starts out as embracing life in her own country, but the conflict gradually erodes this - until she eventually is forced to leave on a small boat, clutching what remains of his belongings, unsure of what the future has in store for her. Fish's lyrics, and the music throughout, detail this change and story perfectly. Spoken word sections enhance the song's growing darkness, while subtle acoustic moments allow for brief moments of hope (or perhaps reflection). Despite the song's length, there is very little virtuosity here. This is a dense, atmospheric piece that perhaps, more than anything else here, really demonstrates the core sound of Weltschmerz perfectly. A short, bluesy guitar solo from Mitchell is a rare moment of melodic excess, but on the whole the dense strings, layers of guitars, and Vantsis' melodic basslines are the perfect backdrop for Fish's dark and hard-hitting tale. The final portion of the song is perhaps the most powerful however, as it details the girl's final escape in the hand's of untrustworthy traffickers and a boat journey to the unknown. The song purposefully ends on a low-key note, to represent her drifting out to sea, which is certainly more impactful that any big crescendo could ever hope to be given the song's context and subject matter.
Despite how impactful Rose of Damascus is, the most emotional piece on the album is the opener to the album's second disc - Garden of Remembrance. While most of the songs here were written with Boult and Vantsis, Garden of Remembrance was put together with Mitchell - although the stark piano ballad is really nothing like any of Mitchell's usual compositions. The song details the early onset of dementia in the context of an elderly couple, and is partly inspired by Fish's parents. His mother, who now lives with him, is living with dementia; so it is easy to believe that there is a lot of her within the Garden of Remembrance. Musically, the song is extremely simple. Holmes' piano is the dominant instrument throughout, but Boult adds occasional classical guitar flourishes for colour. Fish has penned many emotional sets of lyrics in his career, but it clear that is one of the ones that means the most to him. It is perhaps the song's subtlety however that makes it as powerful as it is - with the piano and the occasional guitar lines all it needs to tell what is a complex and moving tale. It is left to C Song (The Trondheim Waltz) to provide something of a lift following 20 plus minutes of downbeat and moving tales; but the more kinetic track is certainly not the uplift that it perhaps initially seems to be. In some ways, the song feels like the dark cousin of This Party's Over, but with less of the energy and drive. The waltz-like nature of the piece allows the song to stand out, while Martin Green's accordion gives it a certain street-esque folk feel. The song's message is defiant, but the slow burn and the sluggish drum groove somewhat mute that defiance - which perfectly fits in with the meaning behind the word Weltschmerz. It is also only a very brief moment of defiance, as the following two numbers return to the dense, downbeat nature that characterises much of the album - with Little Man What Now? being one of the album's densest and least-accessible pieces. Influenced by the Hans Fallada novel of the same name, the song is the second of the A Parley With Angels songs to be rehomed here, and is perhaps the song that sums up the Weltschmerz concept the best. There is very little room for hope here, and Fish's lyrics are among some of the most desperate that he has ever written. I must admit that this is the song that I struggled with the most on A Parley With Angels, and I still find it difficult to listen to and connect with. It has certainly grown on me, but it is not one of my favourite moments here. It is just so bleak, and so downbeat, that I find it hard to latch onto. It is a truly challenging piece of music, but I can imagine that for some it will become a firm favourite. The dense strings, Jackson's weeping saxophone, and Fish's hopeless lyrics all come together to form a song that is very effecting and hard to listen to - which in truth probably means that Fish has succeeded perfectly at what he set out to do in bringing the themes of the original novel to life.
The final of the three A Parley With Angels songs, Waverley Steps (End of the Line), follows Little Man What Now? and in many ways it continues on the darkness and hopelessness of that number - but for some reason I have always gravitated towards it. The song as a whole is certainly more melodic and grand-sounding - with the overall tapestry being more varied throughout. Lyrically however, the song is still heavy going. Topics such as depression and homelessness are covered here, but the overall musical scope makes the song much easier on the ears - for me anyway. Chiming guitars open the song up, which form the backing for the first few stanzas of lyrics - but this is a song that really builds and it becomes possibly the album's most dynamic offering once it really gets going. The use of a horn section here really enhances the song's power, with their main refrain providing the main musical hook. It is possibly the biggest hook on the album for me, and it helps to really bring to song to life. The real success however is how the grander arrangement takes nothing away from the seriousness of the topics covered in the lyrics. Everything seems to come together perfectly to complement everything else - and for that reason the song is one of my favourites here. There is certainly something of the driving, yet organic, sound that filled much of the material on A Feast of Consequences here - which is also possibly why it has become a real favourite, as I think that A Feast of Consequences is one of Fish's best ever collections of songs. Despite the more melodic nature of the piece, there is still a lot going on here musically. I am not sure that Fish has ever been wholly comfortable with the 'prog' tag, but there is certainly a progressive mindset at work here. The song has a big, lush sound that keeps on giving - which helps to make the song's 13-plus minutes really fly by. It is my favourite of the three longer-form songs here. While I feel that Rose of Damascus is more successful from an image-creating perspective, this is a song that contains a bit of everything that has helped make Fish such a great artist throughout the years. It is left to the harder rock of the title track to bring the album to a close. Considering how meaty much of Fish's recent albums have been, particularly 13th Star, it is perhaps surprising that there are only a handful of properly rocking moments here. Weltschmerz is one of them however, with hypnotic guitar lines that actually recall some of Fish's Marillion years dominating the verses; while heavy choruses give the album a final kick up the backside with dramatic vocal harmonies and stark synths. There are certainly more remarkable and deep numbers here, but as a piece of harder rock to bring all of the album's themes together as one it is a real success. It is the perfect way to bring the album to a close too. Each song here has been packed with imagery and emotion, and Weltschmerz instead focuses on the album's broader themes in a more reflective manner - tying everything together neatly with a rare shredding guitar solo and a dark spoken word outro. In many ways, the album's title track sums up my thoughts of the album as a whole and overall, it is a masterful piece of work that is packed with numerous emotions and themes - but everything works together to serve a greater purpose. While I struggle with some of the moments here, and some songs are probably yet to reveal their whole selves to me, this is clearly a huge achievement from Fish and all of the musicians involved here. For a closing statement on a near 40 year career, Weltschmerz is a triumph and it is a collection of songs that Fish can really be proud of when he eventually bows out of music for good.
The album was released on 25th September 2020 via Chocolate Frog Records. Below is Fish's promotional video for Weltschmerz.
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