MusicTalks
11/17/08, 09:57 AM
Ed Harcourt - The Beautiful Lie
Release Date: June 3, 2008 (USA)
Record Label: Dovecote Records
Music is like asparagus. Either you like it or you don’t. You can make yourself eat it, but you can’t make yourself like it. Music, while it seems elementary and trivial to compare to a vegetable, is like asparagus – if you really think about it. You can make yourself listen to it, but you don’t have to like it. There are times that you will end up liking music, if listened to enough, but then again you might like asparagus if soaked in butter and salt. For the most part, you either like it or don’t. In an effort to stay in this food pyramid of comparisons, I would equate my like for Ed Harcourt’s music with my like for beets and sauerkraut. It just won’t get any better after the first serving, if I even make it that far.
Ed Harcourt has always seemed adrift and aloof. When I hear his music I think of Gary Busey on Entourage, Howard Hughes’ deranged, recluse nature, or even a fantasy creature from Coheed and Cambria’s imagination. He’s just so out there, in his own weird musical world. To his credit, he has eons of potential and a certain gift that, if used correctly, would create stunning music. He’s just so set on being this loner artist type, in this realm that no one else can be a part of. It’s as if he’s trying too hard to be something rather than just letting it happen.
His latest release, The Beautiful Lie, seems to encapsulate this bizarre and peculiar character trait. In parts, it’s quite pleasant to listen to, but he drifts in and out of this fantasy world and he loses my attention along the way. The lyrics are random and, at times, a complete rambling mess. It seems more like a compilation of haphazard words where the meaning of them is lost on the listener. In parts, the musicianship stands out and is a shining light on what is certainly a dark and dramatic stage show, but those pleasant moments soon give way to wandering and wondering.
The Beautiful Lie starts with “Whirlwind in D Minor,” one of the better songs on the album. It’s quiet and soothing with a natural flow to it. “Visit From the Dead Dog” is the embodiment of how odd this album gets. It feels like what I would expect to hear if I played a Beatles album backwards. “You Only Call Me When You’re Drunk” gets whiny and nasally, but is one of the only songs where there is a clear message. “The Last Cigarette” is one my least favorite on the album. It emanates this shrill and annoying noise that sounds like something that I would hear from my beagle when she wants to go outside and pee. The album runs together except for a few songs like “Revolution in the Heart” and “I Am The Drug.” It’s odd because Harcourt’s musical ability is apparent, but the direction in which he’s taking it is questionable, at best. Where he conquers the piano and the melody, he lacks the lyrical prowess or the musical originality to power on. There about three songs that stand out while the rest sound like something you would hear in a smoke filled piano bar around the turn of the century. With it’s dark and staged theme, it seems to have its own purpose, but I’m not sure the listener will know what it is. And if they do, I’m not so sure that it would be something many people would like.
For longtime Harcourt fans, I have a feeling they will enjoy this album for everything that this artist seems to embody. For a first-time listener, I would doubt one would retreat into the vaults of Harcourt’s music looking for more. He’s definitely an acquired taste, but for me I’ll always think of beets and sauerkraut when I hear his music. That’s enough for me to avoid another helping.
previous Ed Harcourt; a sense of musical randomness; lyrical melancholy; a little bit of soothing piano; enjoying a brandy in a smoke filled piano bar in the early 1900’s; beets and sauerkraut
myspace.com/edwardharcourt (http://www.myspace.com/edwardharcourt)
Release Date: June 3, 2008 (USA)
Record Label: Dovecote Records
Music is like asparagus. Either you like it or you don’t. You can make yourself eat it, but you can’t make yourself like it. Music, while it seems elementary and trivial to compare to a vegetable, is like asparagus – if you really think about it. You can make yourself listen to it, but you don’t have to like it. There are times that you will end up liking music, if listened to enough, but then again you might like asparagus if soaked in butter and salt. For the most part, you either like it or don’t. In an effort to stay in this food pyramid of comparisons, I would equate my like for Ed Harcourt’s music with my like for beets and sauerkraut. It just won’t get any better after the first serving, if I even make it that far.
Ed Harcourt has always seemed adrift and aloof. When I hear his music I think of Gary Busey on Entourage, Howard Hughes’ deranged, recluse nature, or even a fantasy creature from Coheed and Cambria’s imagination. He’s just so out there, in his own weird musical world. To his credit, he has eons of potential and a certain gift that, if used correctly, would create stunning music. He’s just so set on being this loner artist type, in this realm that no one else can be a part of. It’s as if he’s trying too hard to be something rather than just letting it happen.
His latest release, The Beautiful Lie, seems to encapsulate this bizarre and peculiar character trait. In parts, it’s quite pleasant to listen to, but he drifts in and out of this fantasy world and he loses my attention along the way. The lyrics are random and, at times, a complete rambling mess. It seems more like a compilation of haphazard words where the meaning of them is lost on the listener. In parts, the musicianship stands out and is a shining light on what is certainly a dark and dramatic stage show, but those pleasant moments soon give way to wandering and wondering.
The Beautiful Lie starts with “Whirlwind in D Minor,” one of the better songs on the album. It’s quiet and soothing with a natural flow to it. “Visit From the Dead Dog” is the embodiment of how odd this album gets. It feels like what I would expect to hear if I played a Beatles album backwards. “You Only Call Me When You’re Drunk” gets whiny and nasally, but is one of the only songs where there is a clear message. “The Last Cigarette” is one my least favorite on the album. It emanates this shrill and annoying noise that sounds like something that I would hear from my beagle when she wants to go outside and pee. The album runs together except for a few songs like “Revolution in the Heart” and “I Am The Drug.” It’s odd because Harcourt’s musical ability is apparent, but the direction in which he’s taking it is questionable, at best. Where he conquers the piano and the melody, he lacks the lyrical prowess or the musical originality to power on. There about three songs that stand out while the rest sound like something you would hear in a smoke filled piano bar around the turn of the century. With it’s dark and staged theme, it seems to have its own purpose, but I’m not sure the listener will know what it is. And if they do, I’m not so sure that it would be something many people would like.
For longtime Harcourt fans, I have a feeling they will enjoy this album for everything that this artist seems to embody. For a first-time listener, I would doubt one would retreat into the vaults of Harcourt’s music looking for more. He’s definitely an acquired taste, but for me I’ll always think of beets and sauerkraut when I hear his music. That’s enough for me to avoid another helping.
previous Ed Harcourt; a sense of musical randomness; lyrical melancholy; a little bit of soothing piano; enjoying a brandy in a smoke filled piano bar in the early 1900’s; beets and sauerkraut
myspace.com/edwardharcourt (http://www.myspace.com/edwardharcourt)