...being aware of The Divine Comedy back in the 90s, in particular Everybody Knows (Except You) and National Express which felt like little more than novelty records at the time. Because there is something of the novelty and the theatre about Neil Hannon. He's quirky and feels like a throwback to 60s balladists, yet obviously plays to this and doesn't take himself too seriously. He's so much more than the frontman of a band that skirted the Britpop era-- he's a composer, a storyteller and an absolute legend of the industry. Of course, being a youngster at the time with a penchant for the likes of chart pop and then R 'n B, I was not ready to recognise this until years later.
It was only when I was in my early 30s that I started to delve into The Divine Comedy's extensive back catalogue. My first dabble was a compilation album where I was introduced to such 90s wonders as The Frog Princess and Something for the Weekend. On finding the album 'Absent Friends' from 2004, it became increasingly clear that a love affair was developing; the song Our Mutual Friend is a good example of Hannon's genius in the respect that he conveys such narrative and emotion with his lyrics. The use of strings on that track add such a stomach-twisting journey through the sweetness and excitement of falling for someone...only to face the inevitable stab to the guts in the climax of the song. I can remember listening to the album with my dad on a journey back to Kent and I remember how that song affected him. We listened to the album loud and without speaking; in the gap between Our Mutual Friend and The Happy Goth he uttered something like: "that's an incredible song". He had tears in his eyes. I think I have inherited his hypersensitivity to music because I so often react in the same way. The power of music.
