It’s 10pm on a Monday night. I’m lying in my bed for the first time since I left it at 4.30am the previous Thursday. Every muscle in my body aches. The hangover is just starting to subside. The throat feels and sounds like someone has been spiking my drinks with razor blades. And I’m feeling the onset of a fluey cold. All of this can only mean one thing. I’ve just been to a Marillion convention.
For the uninitiated of you, let me try to explain. Rock band Marillion have a small but incredibly devoted following. Every two years they book up a holiday camp and up to 3000 fans travel to enjoy three days of music, drinking and general jollity. And now I’ve got to try to put it into words. I’m not sure if this will be a cohesive diary, or more of a collection of chronological memories. It’s difficult to know where to start. As I lie in my bed there’s no space in my head. It’s too full of colours and sound.
Thursday morning feels like a long time ago. The alarm was set for 4am, the taxi picked us up at 5am and the flight to Amsterdam 7.10am. Unbelievably by the time we boarded, my boyfriend Darren and our friend Neil had already drunk two pints of beer! Start as you mean to go on lads...
We landed an hour later, set our watches forward to local time and then spent a further hour hiking across the vast plains of Amsterdam Schipol airport. A short train ride into the centre of the Dutch capital later and onto our hotel for tonight. The convention didn’t start until Friday, but we thought we’d get there a day early and Annett on the online forum organised an extra special rate at the extra posh Radisson for Marillion fans. We couldn’t yet check into the 5 star luxury, so we left our bags and headed out for some tourism.
We walked to Anne Frank House, somehow avoiding the trams and the thousands of bicycles that rule the streets. I visited Anne Frank House when I was 15, but I don’t think I was old enough or educated enough to really appreciate it. It is the most moving and thought provoking experience. White Russian plays in my head as I view the pictures of piles of dead bodies in the concentration camps.
I take a deep breath as I leave and we make our way to the nearby Pancake Bakery for some nourishment. Then it’s back to the Radisson where we could now check in. The hotel is amazing and the room wonderful. We relaxed for a few hours before heading out for some sushi – Darren had found out about an all-you-can-eat place. When we arrived it was packed and fully booked. This place MUST be good. We snuck in after a cancellation and had 2 hours to fill ourselves before our session ended. The fish was so amazingly fresh, it was well worth the money. Tokyo Cafe, highly recommended!
Well fed, it was on to the Tara, an Irish bar where there was a pre-arranged Marillion meet. This is where the recollections get a little hazy. Apparently we left around 2am, but I can’t really be sure...
Five hours later and we’re awake again. Breakfast was included, so we wanted to take full advantage before heading back to the airport to meet my sister Vicky from her flight. After a few more hours of hanging around and meeting up with old friends, we could hop onto our coach to Center Parcs in Port Zelande. This was where the convention was to be held, and it was a long, boring, tiring two hour trip west, especially after the previous night.
The check-in queue was ridiculous so we visited the shop to get some supplies. When we did check in I couldn’t wait to get rid of the case I’d been dragging behind me for the last two days! The cottage was absolutely lovely, despite a rather treacherous looking spiral staircase up to the bedrooms! Our room-mate Paul arrived just after us, and he and Darren headed back out for further supplies (largely of the alcoholic variety). In his infinite wisdom, Darren insisted we bring a PS2 including Guitar Hero controllers and Singstar microphones for entertainment. All the extra lugging around was worth it, and we spent the rest of the afternoon on a Singstar marathon. Vicky and I on vocals, Darren and Paul performing to the camera. It was a hilarious, “you had to be there” moment.
Luckily someone remembered that we were actually in the Netherlands to see Marillion so at 9pm we ventured to the tent. After obtaining some beer tokens we made our way to guitarist Steve Rothery’s side of the stage. The band opened with five, as yet unheard songs from the forthcoming album, Somewhere Else. On first listen my personal favourites were Most Toys (fantastic single material) and The Wound (think Massive Attack or Portishead with more of a rock edge).
Then onto the main feature. At every convention, Marillion perform one of their albums in its entirety, and this year’s choice was This Strange Engine. I love every song on this album, so I was pretty excited. Keyboard player Mark Kelly is the shining star – the album is littered with fantastic keyboard solos. Rothery was also in excellent form, deservedly given an extended and rapturous applause for his solo in the song This Strange Engine. However, Hope For the Future was always going to be the highlight. Much maligned by most fans, the chorus is a very cheesy attempt at samba, but there are some great moments in the song. Armed with maracas, we came, we partied, we laughed out loud. The reception was huge – I think the band gained a lot of respect for performing something so unpopular, although I think the applause was partly out of relief that it was over!
The gig closed with a reprise of two of the new songs, and the catchy chorus to Most Toys was left to reverberate around everyone’s heads. It was on to the Rock Disco at the Adventure Factory. The bar system was more than a little chaotic – particularly frustrating when all you want is a glass of water. The disco itself was a bit hit and miss, although Freebird provided us with one of the songs of the weekend. We never did learn more than the first four lines...
More Guitar Hero and Singstar back at the cottage, before collapsing into bed at some unknown time. The main thing on the agenda on the Saturday was the pub quiz, so after breakfast it was back to the Adventure Factory. We were more than happy with our #5 placing, although we could have done much better if it wasn’t for a poorly played joker and some stupid errors. Boos echoed around the room when the ubiquitous Cakey Boys were announced as winners – they beat everyone the convention before and once more won the right to battle it out on stage against the band.
We plumped for Italian for dinner, although the service was poor the food wasn’t bad. We were then invited to a gathering of rugby fans to watch England thrash Scotland in the 6 nations. I’m not generally a rugby person, but I’m always happy to watch the Auld Enemy get beaten! After a change of clothes it was on to the second gig of the weekend, Rareties and Covers. In my opinion it wasn’t a brilliant setlist or show, but there were moments of genius. Built In Bastard Radar – a song only beaten by Hope For the Future in most least liked Marillion song lists – was excellent, as was the oft forgotten These Chains. A friend of mine Liz provided one of the best surprises by stepping up to sing an excellent version of Sympathy. But surely the most brilliant moment was Marillion does Britney. A cover of Toxic showed that this band don’t take themselves as seriously as many think. A point further made by lead singer Steve Hogarth donning a dress and fishnets to perform Abba’s Money Money Money, and providing some excellent yodelling for the finale of Hocus Pocus by Focus.
The party of the night was in cottage 268 where a couple of our good friends from Marillion tribute band Forgotten Sons were staying. They had also brought proper guitars. A long, LONG singing session ensued, mostly of Marillion songs old and new. There was a weird rotating audience thing happening though, and when Kayleigh and Easter were being requested for the third time, we decided it was time to leave. Mind you, it was about 4am at this point...
We had to set alarms for Sunday. I agreed to set up a pool competition and was due in the Adventure Factory at 11am. 11am didn’t seem that early when I planned it. It was obviously too early for some of the people who had entered because we were running a bit short on players! I reluctantly put my hat in the ring to make up a knockout of 8 people, and just as I started my match Graeme came running in with apologies galore. I wasn’t really up for humiliating myself, so with everyone’s permission we agreed he could take my place. It was a hard fought competition with only two players not winning a frame and many frames coming down to a black ball fight. Darren v Graeme was the final, and after many misses Graeme snatched victory. It was great fun, but maybe next time I’ll make it a more reasonable time!
Next on the agenda was the quiz final. More boos were directed at the Cakey Boys who took it all in their stride. It was excellently compered by Andy and Jim from the Marillion fan club Web UK, and the competition was even closer than the pool! The band got their revenge on the Cakeys and beat them on a tie-break. The band also did a Q&A session – I’m sure they get less and less informative as the years go on, but they’re always very funny to watch.
We decided to eat at Sharky’s that evening, and what a fantastic choice it was. Vicky and I both ordered steak, and it was the biggest, juiciest, best cooked steak I’ve had for a long time. It absolutely stuffed me though, and back at the cottage I barely felt like I could move. The previous evening’s singing had taken its toll on my throat and I wasn’t sure how much I was going to enjoy that night’s show. Darren was invited out to take on one of our pool no-shows, our good friend Brian but I just wanted to chill out for a couple of hours. Vicky had a game of Singstar – she’s a bit too good at that for my liking!
Darren came back with lots of excuses as to why he had been soundly beaten by Brian and we cracked open a bottle of wine before heading off to the final show. This seemed to lubricate both my throat and my spirits, and I was ready for the final push. We only just made it to the tent before the gig started, so decided to dance around at the back. Tonight’s setlist was a compilation of the band’s favourite Marillion songs, kind of a best of. Despite the fact that the songs were largely predictable and there were probably only a couple of I would have chosen, it was incredibly enjoyable. My highlights were You’re Gone (how can you not love that bassline?), Between You And Me (now known as “The Jumping Song”) and The Space. Halfway through King I turned around to see Darren and Paul run out the back, Darren holding his face. When I saw him bent over the barrier outside, I thought the alcohol had got the better of him, but it turned out he’d gone down, Paul had gone up and nose made contact with back-of-head. Nothing appeared to be broken though, and he patched himself up and was back for the end of the song!
The encore and finale of the weekend was a reprise of Hocus Pocus. Exhausted but elated, it was off to the Adventure Factory for the Farewell Party. Another hit and miss rock disco, but we managed to get quite a moshpit going when Rage Against The Machine came on! Vicky went back to the chalet early – I think pregnancy and sobriety were starting to catch her up. We decided to locate the infamous Norwegians party and the most infamous of them all, Andreas. We met lots of new friends, but the mood was a little sombre as we all knew the weekend was coming to a close. At 4am we remembered that we had to be up at a decent hour of the morning to catch our coach back, so off to bed we went.
I don’t think I slept too well despite my red wine haze, and the next morning I felt decidedly off colour. The fresh winter air outside revived me a little, and I was glad I woke myself early to try to sober up and pack. Certainly the prospect of another two hours on a coach was not appealing. The Cakey Boys were on our coach – despite being anoraks of the highest order, they are very funny blokes and made the journey go a little quicker. We arrived at Schipol at midday, and got a pancake for lunch. Mine and Darren’s flight wasn’t until 8pm, so we put our bags into lockers, said a final farewell to Vicky (who had an earlier flight) and decided to spend a little more time in Amsterdam.
We eventually negotiated our way onto a tram to Museumplein. You can never be bored in Amsterdam. There are museum’s on every street and on every subject. We walked past a Diamond Museum – it was free so we figured we had nothing to lose but an hour. It was actually more of a large shop, and oddly enough there was the “real” museum at the end which cost €6 to enter. Hmmm. We looked at going in the Van Gogh museum, but €10 for the hour we had left was a bit steep, so we got a tram back towards the station, alighting at Dam Square. We got some frites mayo but still had some time to kill. Walking up Damrak we passed the Sex Museum. It was only €3, so with little else to occupy us and our minds not entirely with it, we went in. I’m not sure what I expected, but seeing 100 year old pornography was very strange, especially given my state of mind at the time.
We emerged probably slightly more dazed than when we entered, and embarked on the long journey home. A needlessly prolonged check-in, a McDonalds, a dozy flight and cab ride later, and here I am once more. Aching in body, tired in mind and lighter in pocker. Was it worth it? You bet!
