As a “musical entity, a singer-songwriter”, Neil Hannon is a rather distant pop star “I’m not sure I was ever really a pop star, though at one point I did read the manual, so I knew what I was doing”. The Divine Comedy rode on the rollercoaster of 90s Britpop but never came off the rails, and Hannon & co are doing rather nicely, thank you. It’s all down to the songs!
Sometimes I’m grateful for my own show. I don’t mean to sound smug. One of the genuine pleasures of doing The Art of Longevity is re-discovering artists I sometimes either missed or didn’t fully appreciate in their heyday. One of those is Neil Hannon’s The Divine Comedy.
I purchased a copy of the albums Fin De Siècle (1998) and then, Regeneration (2001). Both came at the tail end of the Britpop era. Like many people, I bought far too many CDs at that time, many of them conspicuous, seduced as we all were by music industry hype. I barely listened to those records enough to build familiarity with them, although I thought Regeneration was a decent attempt at a left-turn into ‘proper indie music’ for a band I previously associated with ‘not wholly serious’ music. Fin De Siècle I couldn’t quite penetrate at the time, but listening again to the record in preparation for our conversation for The Art of Longevity, I have to say, I missed out. As Neil Hannon describes himself, the album was “a musical hallucinogen". Essentially a sombre affair in which Hannon exercises all his fascinations with troubadour influences, Scott Walker, Jacques Brel, even Charles Aznavour. Oh, and Faith No More (Thrillseeker). And why not? Despite its rather avant garde nature, the album plays host to The Divine Comedy’s biggest hit and probably best known song: The National Express. Why, I wondered, would a pop star like Neil Hannon possibly be travelling around the country by coach? (you’ll have to listen in for the answer).
The Divine Comedy perhaps never made the ‘A List’ of the 1990s British music boom. Hannon’s journey was not that of Oasis, The Stone Roses or Blur, or even more kindred spirits, Pulp. But, he still had three solid years of full-on fame. As he describes it:
“The heights and the valleys are shallower in my experience than Suede or others. But, I looked through my old diaries recently and the difference between one year and the next - suddenly I didn’t have a day to myself for the next three years. It drove me mad, but I came out the other side”.
With that quote, Neil Hannon captures his very own recipe for longevity - namely don’t get too carried away. That gentle roller coaster has rolled on, largely down to Hannon’s ability to write very good songs. Those songs and Hannon’s independent, self-reliance has seen The Divine Comedy mature very nicely indeed. Despite the industry’s ebbs and flows since first album Fanfare for the Comic Muse in 1990, Hannon still gets asked to do interesting projects (writing the music for a Willie Wonka prequel movie), still goes on successful tours (pandemic permitting) and still gets played on the radio (now & again).
Shortly after our chat, I had the pleasure of seeing The Divine Comedy at London’s Palladium (May 2022). A fine backing band performed a strong set of ‘hits’, led by Hannon’s charmingly reluctant showmanship. But the pathos and humour in the lyrics, along with Hannon’s understated but skilled musicianship and strong voice, helped to make that show very enjoyable indeed. It was up there with much larger scale tours by legacy bands. There was even a touch of vaudeville, when a Charlie Chaplin-esque suited man from left of the stage sneaked up behind Hannon to shift his guitar capo up a fret just in time for the key change on Perfect Lovesong. In a word, entertaining.
That was an accomplished performance but the songs did most of the work. I asked Neil if that really is the secret to longevity in pop music - on top of everything else - to be able to knock out great songs?
“I feel like it might be. You never quite know. I sat in the control room in Abbey Road while the orchestra played their part on Our Mutual Friend. I remember thinking well, that’s the best thing I’ve ever done. “After Regeneration I knew I had to change things or I’m doomed. I have to make the record that makes me happy. I went back to the source - pure 60s orchestral pop with layers of golden age British pop. It got me back on course. It was easier after that. To know you don’t have to go looking - just do what you do - and an audience will come”.
The amazing thing about bands of longevity is how new audiences keep on coming. No doubt a benefit of the streaming era, always on music, playlists and discovery algorithms. But good songs are the essential ingredient. At the Palladium show, in the seats in front of me was a Millennial couple dancing along and singing almost every word of the set to each other.
I think Neil might be right to keep on doing just what he wants to.