Monday, June 9, 2008

The Vault: Ed Harcourt - The Beautiful Lie

The Beautiful Lie
Ed Harcourt
(Dovecote)

Nearly two years after its initial release in the UK, British singer-songwriter Ed Harcourt’s fourth solo album, The Beautiful Lie, has finally found a home here on Dovecote Records. Over the years, Harcourt has toured with the likes of R.E.M., Snow Patrol and Wilco, and since his humble beginnings in 2000, he has released four full-length albums and two EPs, of which nearly all charted in the U.K. Even though Harcourt has developed a faithful European following, commercial success has basically eluded him in the States, and, based on this record, will likely elude him for years to come.

The Beautiful Lie possesses many of the same qualities that have gained him loyal fans but fails to expand on any sort of innovative musical ideas. The result is a sappy, ballad-laden album that will find a comfortable home alongside Paul McCartney and Michael McDonald on the shelves of Starbucks. The album opens with an upbeat track, “Whirlwind In D Minor,” which turns out to be one of the best tracks on the record. Harcourt’s intense falsetto is invigorating, and the track takes on a catchy alt-country feel during the chorus. “Visit From the Dead Dog” takes on a similar feel, but it’s even more upbeat and catchy.



Though conceptually redundant, the first two songs are well-written, piano-pop jams that would fare well on adult contemporary radio. But the album takes a turn for the worse on “You Only Call Me When You’re Drunk,” — one of the more overdone lyrical concepts in recent years. The song is bland to begin with, but turns into an absolute train wreck during the breakdown, which sounds like it was thrown together at the last second. The following track “The Last Cigarette” would both fit perfectly on a score for a romantic comedy movie. “27 Dresses” anyone?

This string of sappy ballads continues on “Shadowboxing” and “Late Night Partner,” the latter sounding as if a 15-year-old girl wrote it, not a 28-year-old married man. Both rely heavily on orchestral accompaniment, perhaps to distract the listener from the average songwriting. The violins come on a bit too strong though, and overshadow Harcourt’s vocals. “Late Night Partner” sounds overproduced, but “Revolution In My Heart” is one of the redeeming tracks, bringing Harcourt’s Brit-pop tendencies back to the forefront.

On the latter part of the album, Harcourt’s piano ballad roots shine through, especially on “Rain On The Pretty Ones” and “Braille.” “Rain” suffers from the same overzealous orchestral backing, making the track sound like Josh Groban backed by John Williams and the New York Philharmonic. The deal-breaker on “Rain” are Harcourt’s sub-par lyrics. The song is essentially about an outsider coming to terms with his menial existence, but Harcourt uses analogies that aren’t poetic or creative. All well and good for an undiscerning audience, but I doubt anyone understands what “I’m the cuckoo that never flew south” means. Harcourt is a fairly likable guy, but many of the songs here sounds bland and uninspired — the kind of music you’re likely to hear in a hotel lobby sooner rather than later. —Aaron Frank

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