My Favourite Faded Fantasy - Damien Rice - A Review

The first thing you need to do when you buy a Damien Rice album is read the lyrics.  Like when you read the book before watching the film, there’s that immortal question – “Which was better? The book or film?”  In Damien’s case, it’s still a question I can’t answer.  Ever since I read the lyrics for ‘Amie’ from his debut album ‘O’, I still can’t get my head around whether this guy is a better musician, or poet.


My Favourite Faded Fantasy is the next instalment of Damien’s life work.  It has taken him 8 years to release this album.  From the heady heights (see I can do alliteration too, Damien) of ‘O’ to simply, ‘9’, this is his third offering, mostly recorded in the magical, mystical world of Iceland.  Is it worth the wait?

When you hear a Damien Rice song you’re being taken on a journey.  One that gives you a sense of warmth and comfort, that rides you along the wave of words until everything becomes a crescendo of sound and then before you even realise it; it’s over.  This is Damien’s work, this is life, and it is emotional. 

Once you get past the idea that each song is a journey, you kind of just need to relax into it.  The opening album title track builds to that enigmatic fearless rush of strings interspersed with piano that blows you away.  There’s an electric guitar and drums in this song and you don’t even realise this until the fourth listen.  The instruments do what Damien want, and rock song this is not.  If you look at the number of contributors to this album, and the number of instruments they all play individually, you’ll see why this is a seriously well thought out piece of work.

The second track, It Takes a Lot to Know A Man is a whopping 9 and a half minutes long. But then halfway through the song, all we hear is a deep-sounding piano and the words “What are you so afraid to lose?”  And suddenly you’re in this void of nothingness - like you’ve just stepped into a warehouse which has a leaking roof and there’s a guy sitting on a stool just playing a little tune on the piano.  And from this moment of reflection you’re brought back by the sound of the cello and back into the song.  Genius.

The Greatest Bastard with lyrics such as “I helped you open out your wings, your legs and many other things’, is reminiscent of ‘Accidental Babies’ (from ‘9’) and lyrics that make you stop and go, “What did he just say?!”  But then the shock turns to reality and you understand that the words which were meant to move you into listening then move you into thought.  And sadness.  “We’ve fought so much we’ve broken all the charm, but letting go is not the same as pushing someone else away.”  Interestingly, the lyrics for this song are on the same lyric sheet as It Takes a Lot to Know A Man and you can’t help but wonder whether both songs are interlinked.
 
Then we move onto the song that’s been out on the radio a few weeks now, I Don’t Want to Change You.  Although at first, you’re not sure whether it is, because there’s a string opening which wasn’t on the video which just takes your breath away.  The more I listen to this song, the more I love it. 

Long Long Way reminded me so much of 'Volcano' from ‘O’, particularly because of the inclusion of a female vocalist (Marketa Irglova). Then at 2 and a half minutes you’re wondering whether this is a sequel to ‘Cold Water’ (also from ‘O’) as some of the note sequences are very similar to that song.  That said, you can’t beat something that has worked before.  

With only 8 songs on the album, there is an expectation that they have to be good.  And they are.  One song for each year of absence, each standing on its own as a little gem of heaven meant to be played over and over again.  Go out and buy this. It’s musical poetry at its finest.

Follow me @JWilbyPalmer

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