The Gospel According To Mark: A Review of Graeme Thomson’s In Another World: The Four Seasons of Talk Talk...

A version of this article first appeared in PRODUCT magazine

Music fans of a certain vintage are likely to have first encountered Talk Talk in their early post-punk synthpop stage, contemporaries with the likes of Tears for Fears, Duran Duran, and China Crisis; Top of the Pops semi-regulars complete with fretless bass, sharp suits, and a hint of eyeliner. The first two albums The Party's Over (1982) and It's My Life (1984) were very much of that time, and there were singles, such as ‘Today’, ‘Talk Talk’ and particularly ‘It’s My Life’ which made their way onto any number of ‘80s compilations and radio playlists. They were the definition of a fair-to-middling pop group, who undoubtedly had a way with a tune. However, there was always an edge to them. An attitude and tension which hinted at something more, something personified by singer and main songwriter Mark Hollis.

Graeme Thomson’s In Another World: The Four Seasons of Talk Talk goes some way to explaining that feeling by looking in detail at what came next. Using the four seasons as a structure, he has taken the next three Talk Talk albums The Colour of Spring (1986), Spirit of Eden (1988), and Laughing Stock (1991), and Mark Hollis’ eponymous solo record (1998), and looks in detail as to how they were made, who was involved, and also what they mean to him.

Something which will have posed a challenge in writing this book is that so few of those involved were willing to talk about it (Mark Hollis died in 2019 at the age of 64, but had long stopped making music, and even longer stopped talking about it). Others offer their apologies but with a firm ‘no’. Thomson manages to turn this to his advantage, offering an overview less about anecdotes and personal points of view to concentrate on the music itself. You are left to decide for yourself what the music means, and more poignantly what it means to you.

We are left in no doubt about what it means to Graeme Thomson. If this feels like a labour of love, that’s because it’s exactly what it is. The book is woven together by the author’s interludes which relate just why he wanted to write about these four records in particular. Although Spirit of Eden was the first Talk Talk album he was introduced to, he starts in Spring, appropriately with The Colour of Spring – an album which was the first significant indicator of a band determined to move to their own beat. For some music fans it is their greatest achievement. Lead single ‘Life’s What You Make It’ (a truly great pop song) brought a lot of attention to the band, with a memorable video tailor-made for heavy rotation on the fairly new MTV and similar music video stations. The story behind the song is a fascinating one, suffice to say it wouldn’t have existed if the record label hadn’t insisted on hearing a ‘single’.

By the time Spirit of Eden was released, such outside pressures were largely ignored, and there was little doubt that this was a band making music unlike many, if any, others. You can detect the influences – the jazz of Miles Davis and John Coltrane, classical works of Debussy and Bartok, and the music of Kate Bush is also said to have had an affect. On its release it was critically acclaimed, but commercially considered a flop, yet it has come to be as lauded as albums get, frequently featuring on Best Albums lists and cited as an influence on bands such as Radiohead and Arcade Fire.

Laughing Stock is perhaps their least known album and, as Thomson himself admits, arguably the most challenging both musically and lyrically. It’s certainly the darkest (although it is also the one which appears to mean the most to the author himself). It is clearly a record made under stress and duress, with Mark Hollis increasingly taciturn, at least when it comes to discussions about anything music related, alienating himself from those around him.

There is no doubt that the enigmatic Hollis is the main character in this story. If you look at those early videos and listen to those songs, this was a man with lead singer charisma and a mean way with a pop hook. But that was not for him, and he was lucky to find some kindred(ish) spirits who could help him fulfil his vision, even if they were often unsure exactly as to what that vision was. Thomson hints that this inability to clearly convey what he wanted from other musicians was not only at the heart of his numerous fall outs, but perhaps a cause of his own discontent.

This blend of musical visionary and ‘geezer’ gets to the heart of how these albums were made. Thomson talks of ‘human sampling’ where an impressive parade of musicians would come and go, contributions often ending up on the studio floor, or so diminished and edited as to be barely recognisable – often a single note or two being all that survived. On a recent episode of Miranda Sawyer’s Talk ‘90s To Me podcast, author (and former A&R executive) John Niven was speaking about Liam Gallagher, claiming you could never be sure whether he was “[…] going to kiss you, or throw you out the window”. The threat of violence may not quite have reached the levels of a younger Gallagher but it does seem something similar could be said about Mark Hollis. The difference between the two is that you can hear that duality in Gallagher’s voice and on-stage (and off-stage) persona. You can’t say the same about Mark Hollis and the music of Talk Talk. The most surprising aspect of this book for me was that the man who was central to these beautiful albums could be so troubled and truculent, but when you dig deeper, in the way that Graeme Thomson does, then his pain, anger, and even attitude is more evident and perhaps even understandable.

It should be made clear that these Talk Talk albums are not only the work and vision of Mark Hollis. Without producer and something of a soul mate, at least in musical terms, Tim Friese-Greene, and also bass player Paul Webb (who you may know as Rustin Man), these records would not have sounded as glorious as they do, or perhaps existed at all. This is as much their story, or at least a large part of it is, and Thomson makes sure that is not overlooked.

By the time we reach Winter, Mark Hollis has burnt most of his musical bridges. With that in mind, it’s perhaps not surprising that his self-titled solo album was to be his last record, but there’s something more than that. It feels like he realised his musical life had reached an end, and this was a fitting conclusion. It’s the most sparse and acoustic of the four, and the most reflective. As with Laughing Stock it’s not always an easy listen, but there is something cathartic about it. It’s my favourite of the records under discussion, and one, I would like to think, which brought Mark Hollis a sense of peace and fulfilment. Despite everything, he deserved that.

As many current conversations across the arts are about threats posed by (and, for some, the possibilities of) AI, this story of a man and a band who wanted to make everything real is a timely and heart-warming one. A vision which would not be cowed or compromised. It’s a fascinating story, brilliantly told. Few music biographies are real page turners in the manner this one is, in no small part due to the human stories at its heart, both in terms of subject and writer. But ultimately, this is a book which will not only take you back to the music, as the best music biographies do, it will make you listen in a new way. In Another World: The Four Seasons of Talk Talk is not an instruction manual, it’s a guide book, and it opens up a magical, and often moving, journey.

In Another World: The Four Seasons of Talk Talk is published by New Modern