The seemingly insurmountable quandary that confronted Marillion in late 1988 was exactly how they could replace their frontman, Fish, and which singer would have the audacity and the balls to even try. After all, Fish was more than just the singer; his gregarious personality and lyrical prowess had created the powerful image and identity that the band had traded on for six years.
It would have been easy for Marillion to simply bring in a Fish replica, to simply regurgitate the hits and carry on the tradition, but the band were too daring – and savvy – for that. Instead they chose Steve Hogarth, as diminutive as Fish was big-boned, whose previous pop-slanted experiences with the bands How We Live and The Europeans made him seem an unlikely choice – especially when his first photo with his new band showed him sporting rather a dodgy New Romantic haircut.
Yet the wisdom of their choice was that Hogarth plainly wasn’t Fish. What the new frontman may have lacked in a range of harlequin-patterned suits, face paint and theatrical helmets was surpassed by his subtly endearing stage craft, and a distinctly individual and immediate voice (crucially, not an acquired taste like that of his predecessor) made his appointment an intelligent and perceptive one.
Marillion’s first album with Hogarth, the slick Seasons End, had been well-received, and although sales hadn't even approached those of Misplaced Childhood or Clutching At Straws, the signs were at least encouraging that a Marillion without Fish was not inconceivable.
But it’s in the live environment that a new singer discovers whether a loyal fan base is willing to accept them, and Hogarth had publicly admitted that he was “frankly terrified” at the prospect of his first UK tour. As bassist Pete Trewavas had accurately put it before a show at the St George's Hall in Bradford: “We know that we are fighting for our survival.”
Apart from Hogarth, the difference between Marillion in 1989 and the sullen band that had appeared on the drawn-out Clutching At Straws tour was surprising. Clearly conscious of the hole that Fish had left, the band were making deliberate efforts to inject some energy into their set. Steve Rothery, who had previously preferred to remain static and rarely wander past his guitar pedals, was mobile and smiling as Hogarth karate-kicked his way through the set.
Rightly, Hogarth had been allowed free rein in selecting the Fish material he wanted to perform, and although the stilted banter between songs revealed his nervousness, he confidently recited the likes of Slainte Mhath, Script For A Jester’s Tear and Warm Wet Circles, and the bravely included Kayleigh, Lavender and Heart Of Lothian managed to convince too.
As for the new material, Easter was spellbinding and fresh; Berlin was heartfelt; Hooks In You was a reminder that Marillion were comfortable venturing into three-minute ‘heavy metal’.
Concluding the set, a speaker astride a stack some 20 feet above the stage, belting out a medley of Market Square Heroes and Alice Cooper's School’s Out, Hogarth had proved both his rock credentials and that he was more than a Fish substitute – as his now 37-year tenure as lead singer is a testament to.
