The Divine Comedy
Victory For The Comic Muse

THE REVIEW

"If I'm to die then let it be in summertime / in a manner of my own choosing / to fall from a great height / on a warm July afternoon..."

I've been listening to Divine Comedy for not a very long time, just about six years. And as often happens when I become "belatedly" passionate about a band or an artist, I immediately sought out their earlier albums to fill the gap.

I don't know if this is a common thing among "hungry" listeners like me, but when this happens, I focus on that particular artist almost to the point of abandoning all the other music that could potentially interest me. In the case of Divine Comedy, it was a true love affair, one of those situations where you say to yourself "how on earth did I manage to live without this music until now?".
Neil Hannon appeared in my room in the form of a CD and since that day, every two or three years, he knocks on my door. Of course, I let him in, we have a chat and drink a glass of beer, Irish. And we laugh, heartily. With "Victory for the comic muse" (which takes its title from their 1990 debut, "Fanfare for the comic muse"), Divine Comedy enter the sixteenth year of a splendid career that has always maintained very high standards.

Neil Hannon, factotum and the true mind behind the project, has tried over the years to contaminate his music (strongly and openly inspired by Burt Bacharach and Kurt Weill) in different ways and through recent, very respectable experiments: in 2001 Divine Comedy released, produced by Nigel Godrich, "Regeneration". A programmatic title and a project that brings them to change their skin decisively, only to return to a completely orchestral and very intimate (and splendid) album two years later with "Absent friends". Dedicated, indeed, to friends who are no longer with us.
"Victory for the comic muse" is the album of awareness after the change, as if with "Regeneration" Hannon had decided to start over, a sort of "difficult third album," which is actually the ninth.

The structure remains the "classic" one of pop arranged to be by a formation not exactly rock (many strings and winds, as always). So much so that I personally prefer to consider Hannon a "composer" rather than a songwriter. However, even in this album, our Northern Irish friend (who, defying the stereotypes about people from those parts, is of extreme refinement and elegance) proves to have a wonderful talent for the "song" (in the noble sense of the term) and arrangement.

I listened to this album for the first time while riding my bike on one of these warm early summer evenings. By the second track, "Mother dear", I found myself zigzagging down the road (luckily for me, free of traffic) like Nanni Moretti in "Caro diario", experiencing the same sensation I always get when listening to a Divine Comedy album for the first time: a great sense of joy and serenity. A Divine Comedy album is a kind of medicine: if you had a bad day, some bad luck, or some annoyance, let Neil Hannon knock on your door, let him in and offer him a beer.
Even in the most melancholic moments ("A lady of a certain age"), the Divine Comedy have the ability to turn your day around (so maybe it would be better to listen to them at breakfast, before things start to go wrong). Neil Hannon is a genius, capable of making pop with orchestras, harpsichords (present here in more than one song), oboes, and so on, and able to alternate between sharply and amusingly ironic lyrics (for instance "To die a virgin, "Diva lady") and genuine poetry ("The plough", "Count Grassi's passage over Piedmont") where even topics like death are treated with disillusionment.

Capable of pleasantly shaking you with lightness, but also of moving you deeply with very emotional pieces (especially in the final part, where the arrangements become purely orchestral). And with a voice, let’s not forget, truly unique. Above all else, the banjo of "Mother dear", the strings of "A lady of a certain age", the chorus of "The light of day", the "riff" of violins in "Party fears two".

Well done, Neil. Keep knocking from time to time. The door is always open.