I didn’t know who Mark Hollis was until right after his death. My favorite vinyl store posted about his passing on Facebook, and his story captivated me. He had created this massive body of work, then completely disappeared from the public eye, only to emerge decades later through the untimely news of his death. It was very sad indeed, but also not without a somewhat romantic notion.
An internet deep dive revealed that he was the frontman for Talk Talk, a band I had previously dismissed as boring 80s synth pop and not for me. Learning they were the originators of the hit song “It’s My Life” didn’t help. I had never heard their original version, but I absolutely hated Jon Bon Jovi’s cover from the early 2000s as it played over and over again on MTV. Admittedly, my arguments against Talk Talk and Mark Hollis were weak at best.
The search also revealed that he had only ever released one self-titled solo album. At this point, curiosity got me and I had to give it a listen. When I put it on for the first time, I was not prepared. What reached me was the most beautiful, simple and melancholic piano accompanied by a fragile, contemplative vocal. The piano felt almost classical in its expression, with subtle nods to jazz. The recording seemed so simplistic, so sparse in its instrumentation. Yet it had so much space and feeling, so much clarity. Mark Hollis’ voice seemed transcendent. It felt intensely personal, like he was wringing his heart out to an intimate friend. I felt like an unwelcome intruder, but still I was invited in, because he shared this last work, this poignant swan song with the world, before withdrawing from the public eye, never to be heard from again.
I sat there, filled with a sudden surge of deep appreciation for his music, realising this artist was now gone. Before I had even finished my first listen, a deep sadness of his passing overwhelmed me. That was how quickly his music took root in my heart. I eagerly went through the whole discography of Talk Talk with renewed interest, and the later albums in particular plucked the same melancholic strings in me. I couldn’t believe how I had dismissed this treasure trove of music through all these years. The story of how the albums Spirit Of Eden and Laughing Stock came together was especially amazing in their own right. It was while finishing up Laughing Stock, the last album of Talk Talk, that Mark Hollis supposedly stayed in the studio and began work on what would become his final album.
He had a minimalist recording approach. He used little equipment, only acoustic instruments, kept the musicians’ natural imperfections in their performances, and explored the studio space for its unique qualities and sound signature. This was decidedly out of step with the more maximalist and heavily produced music coming out in the 90s, and it certainly didn’t sound like anything else released either then or now.
Hollis’s solo album is a masterpiece to this day. Despite countless listens, the opening notes of the first track, “The Color Of Spring,” never cease to move me. With their inherent beautiful sadness, these eight tracks always seem to have new stories to share with me. I encourage you to give it a listen as well – perhaps you too will find your own stories within this remarkable work.
