Send "The Divine Comedy " Ringtones to your Cell 
| Popmatters |
 Neil Hannon has made an interesting journey over his lengthy career as the sole continuous member of the Divine Comedy, turning from an almost Leslie Philips-esque level of knowingly gaudy British humor to a far more opulent artistic sensibility. Though he’s still capable of the odd blue joke, he is now just as good at writing adult and incredibly affecting songs along the lines of Tindersticks, or any number of more melodramatic artist. Bang Goes the Knighthood, with its silly artwork depicting Hannon in the bath wearing a bowler hat with a dog, might initially convince some that the new level of seriousness achieved on previous records like Absent Friends and Victory for the Comic Muse had been cast aside for the time being, but it’s a bit more complex than that.The divide between those humorous and serious songwriting guises, though, is completely bridged by the opening “Down in the Street Below”. A Lloyd-Webber-ian romp that mutates seamlessly from plaintive love song of doubted commitment to a Vaudevillian pomp shuffle, it’s a five minute tour of Neil Hannon, the songwriter. That is, nagging truths delightfully evoked in the lyrics and impeccably arranged musical exposition to rival even the most skilled and studied of composers. As a miniature work, it really is impressively realized—a cavalcade of oscillating piano and pastoral string melodies, all underpinned by the narrative. As bold as it is interesting, this is Hannon at his very best. The Divine Comedy’s history of singles is surprisingly good, and the lead from Bang Goes the Knighthood is no exception. “At the Indie Disco” is a knowing (and more than slightly affectionate) critique of the culture of the indie disco, and quite a hip-swinger to boot. The name-checking of certain turntable stalwarts are totally spot-on, from “Blue Monday” to the Wannadies, and to have it quietly governed by another acute relationship observation is only icing on the cake. It leaves the listener with the impression that this is a subcultural guilty pleasure for Hannon, far away from the mocking tone it might initially suggest....full text |
| Bbc |
| Ten albums into a (largely) distinguished career, it might have been hoped that The Divine Comedy’s Neil Hannon could have resolved the struggle for his soul that has defined and dogged his progress. Divine Comedy albums are always an arm-wrestle between two incompatible personas. One is the elegant and witty balladeer, a precocious hybrid of Scott Walker and Randy Newman, heard on such commanding cuts as The Dogs & the Horses and Sunrise. The other is the insufferably bumptious japester queasily evocative of Gilbert O’Sullivan, most notably culpable for the enragingly jaunty sing-along National Express (which, rather depressingly, remains The Divine Comedy’s biggest hit). Bang Goes the Knighthood finds Hannon still struggling to accommodate both mutually deleterious instincts. Vexingly, the wrong one gets the upper hand. Too much of this collection represents Hannon at his worst: smug, trivial and infuriatingly self-amused. At the Indie Disco and the title-track are both trite swipes at wretchedly obvious targets (young people are socially awkward and musically unadventurous, we learn, while aristocrats are apparently drawn to risky sexual adventures). And The Complete Banker is actually as cringe-inducingly ham-fisted as its title. The likeable whimsy of Can You Stand Upon One Leg asks, “Can you write a silly song? It’s harder than you think”. This may be true, but Hannon’s efforts in this direction do little but demonstrate that some challenges are best left unmet. Someone of his vast musical gifts must be able to tell that his best melodies and arrangements invariably accompany his better lyrics: for, as ever, the tunes accompanying those words not written to raise cheap laughs are magnificent....full text |
| Guardian |
| "Can you write a silly song? It's harder than you think," sings Neil Hannon on Can You Stand Upon One Leg? It's a pertinent question, and one loaded with knowingness. Even people who know Dante might focus more on the comedy than the divine in Hannon's music. There lies a dichotomy at the midst of his work; he's defined by his role as a Wildean wit, but his best work comes in his Songs of Loves, not his National Expresses. That continues on his 10th LP where the serious (Down in the Street Below) and the angry (Complete Banker) outshine the whimsy of Assume the Perpendicular and The Art of Conversation, odes to day tripping and chatting respectively....full text |
The Divine Comedy lyrics
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