new sounds are divine

MUSIC the divine comedy The Liquid Rooms, Edinburgh For a band of the stature of Neil Hannon's Divine Comedy, playing lengthy sets consisting largely of new material is something of a risk. A calculated one perhaps, as their crossover from cult fops to mainstream darlings has been managed only by keeping their original intelligent appeal intact, but a risk nevertheless. Even so, the second of two packed-out, low key fan club shows sees them go down a storm.

Opening with what appears to be an extended re-invention of their sound via bass-led repetition, Hannon and his seasoned six piece proceed to show how they've eased themselves out of a dangerous cul- de-sac to become a fully fledged industry outfit.

Despite the audience's unfamiliarity with much of the material, The Divine Comedy formula is a user-friendly one, and excursions down country roads mixed in with some sub-Scott Walker dramatics bode well for great things to come once they hit the road proper.

"Please play My Beautiful Heart," wails one lovelorn punter, but only Generation Sex and Sweden remain from their back catalogue. "You can plead all you like but I'm not playing it," Hannon replies, charmingly, before a value-for-money encore - four songs - culminates in National Express, the best pop song about a bus company ever written.

While there are many, many moments of sublime beauty, at times the sheer competence of musicianship and arrangements overwhelms any semblance of a tune. Frankly, The Divine Comedy are easily at their best when they keep things cleverly simple rather than simply clever. This is demonstrated on the quite lovely Perfect Love Song which, while it sees Hannon revert to type, can't help but put a spring in your step and a smile on your face.

Neil Cooper

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