Neil hannon cathy davey dating
Ask Neil Hannon about the overarching themes of his twelfth album, and he sounds less like the person who created the record and more like the first person who happened to hear it.
“It felt,” he says, “like the songs and the characters in it emerged faster than I could keep track of them.” Included among those characters are beleaguered banker and star of the title track, Sir Hillary Oldmoney, who who, in his zeal to attain a promotion, contrives to bump off the star of a previous Divine Comedy song (no spoilers here).
Even as a kid, when I watched The Fall & Rise of Reginald Perrin, I wondered how you manage that.” Of course, it wouldn’t be a Divine Comedy album if, among the moments of tender disclosure, there wasn’t also a scattering of outright whimsy.
took shape in the middle of the last Divine Comedy tour, during a day off in the Italian Alps.
One of the first songs to appear fully formed on Office Politics – in the process, shining the anglepoise on the space where many more would follow – was .
Featuring guest turns from singer-songwriter (and Neil’s partner) Cathy Davey, Chris Difford (Squeeze) and Thomas Walsh (Pugwash, The Duckworth Lewis Method) the song zones in on the idea that “we’re all living in this zero-hours world, where your identity is no longer bound up with your lifetime vocation, because there are no lifetime vocations any more! , the murky Latin syncopations of – a song which took shape on the morning Hannon awoke to the news that Donald Trump was the new American President.
“I’m lucky in so many ways,” says Neil, “I don’t have to sit on a crammed tube train twice a day, but I’ve done it enough to understand why people have disengage when descending that crowded escalator.
We are introduced to Penelope the pig, who promptly rolls over for a belly rub.
If – her extended family of animals is no coincidence.
” Built around a sample taken from Percy Faith & His Orchestra’s Bim! “We were on tour in France, and the sky above was this apocalyptic metallic grey.
Not only did it feel like the end of the world, but it looked like it too.” Similarly, there’s nothing to connect locates a perfectly Hannonesque midpoint between exasperation and fatalism.