Neil Hannon has always been a classy bloke. Yes, even while clinging to a giant dandelion seed and bemoaning the misery of hayfever, he managed to maintain a certain nonchalant chic; and the ninth Divine Comedy album supplants a similar tone. Victory for the Comic Muse's title harks back to the DC's now-unavailable debut, Fanfare for the Comic Muse. Yet while Hannon openly admits that he can't stand the former, with Victory.., he's created an album that both he and future generations will proudly align themselves with. His uncanny ability to weave subtly wry, flippantly humorous and earnestly heartfelt stories around gorgeous symphonic pop melodies is firmly attested to here; and as displayed on 2004's Absent Friends, his idiosyncratic style has reached a new level of sophistication and maturity. Opener To Die A Virgin's jaunty melody is atypical of the album's sound and content: his lush arrangements (the shimmering pop of Arthur C. Clarke's Mysterious World, the warm, string-drenched chorus of Mother Dear, the sweet summer swoon of The Light of Day), and wry lyrical observations ('She's a Diva Lady, she's got special needs/She wants chocolate candy, but no blue ones, please' are as potent as ever. There's also an pervading, yet understated beauty here, most noted on the elegant and poignant A Lady Of A Certain Age, the gorgeous orchestration of the Associates' Party Fears Two and epic funereal closer Snowball In Negative. Most of all, though, there's a sense that each song, even the short piano-led instrumental Threesome, has been meticulously and lovingly crafted without becoming clinical or losing depth. Victory.. is both cultured and refined, but never patronising; and it's high time Neil Hannon was recognised as one of the finest songwriters alive today. Possibly the best album of his career? I'd call that a victory, all right.
