The (Actually Divine) Divine Comedy

In 2004, a brilliant event occurred. The Divine Comedy ventured out of Ireland to play a show in my hometown. I went with a fellow fan to hear the excellent songs from Absent Friends showcased. To steal from the lexicon of Angela Chase, "we had a time".

My friend J's Irish-connected siblings are to thank for The Divine Comedy's sacred place in my musical universe; sacred, because it's desert island packing. In 1996 or 1997, an afternoon spent alone at J's house listening to Casanova waft majestically out of the surround speakers cemented my devotion. Neil Hannon, the mastermind, can inspire soaring hope (Sunrise), evoke melancholic regret on behalf of a personality you'd probably loathe in reality (A Lady of a Certain Age), baroque your heart into empathetic crushed bits (Our Mutual Friend), or cause delirious head-bopping for which there is no cure (Something for the Weekend).

The Divine Comedy's songs often elicit quizzical looks from uninitiated friends. They tend to hear them in Vegas lounge-like terms. While I can understand that comparison, Neil Hannon's voice doesn't strike me that way. Personal taste can act as a sound filter that produces different reactions in a person (similar to a polarizer filter on a camera lens producing a different image than what you'd get otherwise). Think of it as a polarizing filter. You will hear what you want to hear and love or hate it. What sounds like lounge lizard to you sounds lush to me.

I wish more full song samples were available. They're not easy to come by but it could be possible one day. If you tell a friend and they tell a friend and...