Yahoo! Music Album Review

Released on 05/06/06
Label: Heavenly Recordings

Given that "The Beautiful Lie" is Ed Harcourt's fifth album in six years, it's evident that the Sussex-based troubadour is no slouch, and in an age when the short-term attention span of the casually fickle music fan can lose a band an entire audience between releases, such a determined work ethic is to be applauded. Sadly, it would appear that Harcourt has adopted a quantitative rather than a qualitative approach to his work and as a result, "The Beautiful Lie" is an album that wearily drags along from start to finish.

Harcourt's penchant for lachrymose balladry has resulted in an album that almost dares the listener to find something to smile about and it's difficult to shake the feeling that he's only happy when it rains. Populating the album with a motley collection of characters, Harcourt seems to revel in the misery of others in order to gain some sort of perverse pleasure; there but for the grace of God and all that…

"The Last Cigarette" is spectacularly downbeat as, accompanied by a gently plucked guitar and a mournful violin, a soldier puffs anxiously as he prepares to die. But ultimately it's a song that shamefully plays to the gallery in an attempt to coldly manipulate the emotions, while "Visit From The Dead Dog" replicates the mood of an overly smug Badly Drawn Boy as Harcourt ponders the benefits of making a positive contribution to his fellow man.

Despite boasting one of the song titles of the year with "You Only Call Me When I'm Drunk", Harcourt ends up feeling sorry for himself in a tar pit of plodding piano chords drenched in cinematic strings. The strain to actually care about his predicament isn't worth the meagre dividends, while "Late Night Partner" suggests that Harcourt's protagonist is only up when he's as far down as it's possible to get.

"The Beautiful Lie" isn't without its merits but their appearances are few and far between. "Good Friends Are Hard To Find" is the drunken union of Jeff Buckley and Tom Waits, as staggering, woozy drums struggle for space with inebriated strings but, placed at the end of this overlong album, it requires a lot of stamina to wade through a dense slough of despair for a teasing chink of hope.

Ed Harcourt is a man possessed of a singular talent and a deliciously smoky voice that rises and falls with grace and conviction but all too frequently. Sadly, "The Beautiful Lie" feels like an exercise in the one upmanship of misery.

    by James Marshall