As the author of the Marillion biography ‘Separated Out’ and the Rush history ‘Strange Chemistry’, writer Jon Collins has been well known to prog rock fans for decades. Those fans are less likely to know Jon for his poetry, or be aware of his work as a musician, but he has been rather wise in choosing to apply his writing talents to different media. After all, if you stick to the same thing, you’ll eventually end up stuck in an uninteresting rut.

TwentyTwentySix is a musical project featuring Jon’s lyrics and vocals, which have been properly brought to life with the sterling help of multi-instrumentalist Dominic Manning and a few other assorted friends. Their debut album ‘Fake It Till You Make It’ ventures through a vast amount of material that takes in some melodic prog soundscapes, a little light rock and a couple of acoustic moments. Beyond the self-depreciating title, a lot of the arrangements here are strong and are presented in a very natural way.

The vocals can be a different matter. Jon’s voice can sometimes be a little flat, but there are plenty of moments where his emotive phrases spring to life with the help of some fine music. ‘He Sat At The Table’, in particular, starts the album with best foot forward with a metronomic rhythm underscoring a moody piano and soaring guitar lines. It’s hard not to be reminded of mid 70s Floyd, especially in the way the mournful melody is perfectly layered, and anchored by a pleasingly warm bass. Collins arrives with a sing-speak vocal where he empathises with a man who “kept to himself” and spends a day in town where “no words were exchanged”. The lyrics are a perfect yet simple depiction of feeling lost, of fumbling under the cloud of depression, surrounded by people but feeling a disconnect. Jon’s writing is emotive, but never verbose – very much avoiding some poets’ belief that a more complex approach equals better writing – and at the point where the music swells to introduce a heavier, darker riff, there’s still an otherworldly quality here, sharing something dark, but never oppressive.

The slow keyboard drones that open ‘Death and Taxes’ are fairly typical of this album’s more atmospheric traits, but despite casting a downbeat feel, this track doesn’t have too much of a downbeat heart. Its darker sounds and lyrics are offset by some brilliant, bright sounding guitar parts where busy sounds carry a great melody that captures a very 90s feel, and lurking in the back, there’s a brilliantly played mandolin, bringing out a very strong melodic core. The way Jon’s moody vocal glides across a dancing bass feels very natural, and his tale offering life advice for a “family man who lost the plan” taps into a very thoughtful lyric that’s very much in sync with the atmospheric rock-pop-prog hybrid. Bringing in the drums at the eleventh hour offers a brilliant punch at the point where one is very much needed; the heavier rhythm, juxtaposed with the proggier elements also suggests a love for ‘In Absentia’ era Porcupine Tree within the band’s ranks, which should very much appeal to fans of the style. In a change of mood, ‘Contemplation Point’ blends the sounds of 1990s US based singer songwriters with the sparkle of Crowded House, sharing music that feels familiar. The familiarity makes it stronger, overall, and as with ‘Death and Taxes’, Dominic’s busy bass work provides the kind of musical anchor that makes the more basic melodies really shine. Unfortunately, Jon’s vocals are a bad fit. Where you might expect an uplifting performance to suit, he wobbles around a melody and occasionally latches onto the tune in hand, but more often sounds like a man offering a guide vocal that’ll be improved upon later. It isn’t until the arrival of the guitar solo and the application of more volume that he sounds comfortable. That’s a pity, as there’s a great, well-written pop-rock number in here that’s desperate to shine.

‘Shadows’ – sequenced immediately after – fares much better, as Collins is given a strong mid tempo groove to spring from, which clearly challenges him far less. Obviously, his deeper tones don’t always fit the job in hand, but as he croons over a wall of ringing guitars, he’s able to give his own words a decent send off. Lyrics looking through the fug of uncertainty to “a brand new day” for a man who’ll “take his time” offer a universal sense of positivity, before the Floyd-ish ‘Who Are These People?’ leans more heavily towards a brand of late 80s prog, allowing Dom to drop in with a heavier twang via the electric guitar, set atop an acoustic strum that sounds very inspired by something from ‘A Momentary Lapse of Reason’. With the music never rushing, Collins gives himself plenty of space to weave a lyrical tale, but there are moments where this track becomes just as much about the music itself, swelling to a dramatic rocky peak, before ebbing away to a mournful coda where the lyric appears to question the relationship between a performer and their audience. It’s eventually concluded that the marriage of the two creates a strong sense of belonging, and for fans of melodic prog, this could become an album highlight in time.

Another strong musical moment shines through the centre of the acoustic ‘The World Outside Our Door’, where twin guitars pick upon a very 70s tune, over which, wavering harmonies give an uneasy feel that actually works very well. The effect is like stumbling across an old demo for a Wishbone Ash deep cut, showing off TwentyTwentySix’s most vulnerable side. It also sounds more like something written with a musical arrangement in mind, rather than a musical backdrop created to house the words, if that makes sense. Its relative simplicity makes the material blossom, and even if the send off is a little DIY, it shows how this project has obvious potential. Another stripped back track, ‘Will You Mourn’ isn’t given the benefit of the harmonious elements, but again, shows off some fine playing from Dominic, whilst Jon is able to settle into the quieter sounds once more with a very natural voice. As with a couple of the other tracks, it soon becomes more about the lyric than the overall performance. The way the protagonist looks back over his life, asking whether his loved ones will feel sad or feel a sense of relief, and how he hopes “it wasn’t all for nothing” sets a really bleak tone, but the downbeat elements are offset brilliantly by a sweeping piano melody and gently brushed jazz drums. The drums really add to the mellow vibe, but give everything a necessary lift. Then, at the the number’s climax, a muted trumpet gives a feeling of fullness, very much deserving of such a thoughtful piece, calling to mind ‘Hats’ era Blue Nile, though no further influence should be sought. Although this rarely sounds like “typical” TwentyTwentySix, it definitely shows the musicians in a more accessible light.

The album’s standout track sounds very different – not just to ‘World Outside’ and ‘Will You Mourn’, but to almost everything else in the TTF canon. ‘Take Me With You’ sets prog-ish keys and melodic prog guitar lines against a pulsing rhythm that’s never a full on dance-fest, but immediately suggests something much busier than the band’s norm. Adding extra rhythms via heavy toms, the mechanical meets the natural, and the music gradually swells into an unexpected goth-pop groove where deep basses jostle against bright keys. The more gothic tones present here are a much better fit for Jon’s voice, too: he takes this opportunity to stretch out, and with an even deeper tone, he sounds more comfortable than on the bulk of the songs here. With the arrival of an extra layer of sound, this actually sounds like a lost track from the 80s archives, showing these musicians to have a much broader musical palate than the first couple of tracks on this record would have their potential fans believe.

Elsewhere, you’ll find some more Porcupine-esque vibes flowing through the slightly maudlin ‘Time Is An Illusion’ – a 70s prog homage underscored by massive, spacey synths, and an unexpected sojourn into the realms of jangly rock on the title cut. There’s even some rousing pop rock driving ‘Broken Hearted Party People’, a tale of breakup, of insecurity, and of going off the rails; again, with TwentyTwentySix branching out, it sounds more like a half-remembered C-86 band than a couple of blokes with proggy connections. Obviously, Jon’s voice on this number provides a connection with the likes of ‘He Sat At The Table’, but hearing the music exploring some very different climes shows off a band without boundaries in the best possible way. In some ways, first time listeners would be best checking out this track first, and then circling back to explore the other, less instant, aspects of this album.

Some of the vocals here aren’t too sharp – but then that never stopped Roger Waters, Nick Barrett, poet Pete Brown and others – and take some adjustment on behalf of the listener, but ‘Fake It Till You Make It’ is musically pleasing throughout. Dominic’s arrangements and multi-purpose musical skills have more than enough charm to make the album work as a whole, and in many ways, his talents have been really effective in giving Jon’s words a suitable platform. Not everyone enjoys poetry – and let’s face it, there’s a lot of terrible stuff out there – but these warm, often mid tempo musical arrangements make everything so much more accessible. Overall, the TwentyTwentySix blend of light prog, rock and adult pop creates a soundscape that’s as familiar as a lot of melodic fare from the early 90s, and for those who enjoy thoughtful material that doesn’t necessarily provoke an immediate reaction, ‘Fake It Till You Make It’ is worth investing the time. It’s a little uneven in places, certainly, but the album’s best melodies eventually make the journey worthwhile.

June/July 2024