You may have seen this review already, but as Electroqueer has become THE PLACE to hear about (as Raj might call him) THE GENIUS that is Darren Hayes, it seems completely right to post this great review of his up-and-coming album, 'This Delicate Thing We've Made'. A review tapped out by the genius that is Simon Curtis, who very kindly sent this to me.
So, take it away Simon...
The night of June 22nd was a very special one for me. This, my dears, was my first time to ever see Darren Hayes in concert. From the get-go, I took the entire experience in with reserved awe; in such an intimate setting as the Roxy in Los Angeles, it was almost a goal of mine to ensure this concert remained exactly that, an experience. Typically, I am the insufferable twat bounding endlessly like a kangaroo on crack who is hell-bent on ensuring that the artist notices, consequently making the concert his own personal show of sorts. I didn’t want that this night for some reason. I wanted to remain a face in the crowd, and absorb the music as it should be absorbed. Needless to say, Mr. Hayes did not disappoint, far from it in fact (and I still managed to dance like a much sweatier version of said kangaroo).
It is not very often that an artist who’s career has been such a mainstay of radio, one seemingly omnipresent throughout one’s life, begins to make the climb to the top of one’s list of favorite artists and musical influences well past their pop-radio prime. Mostly, they tend to be there from the beginning, instantly taking hold of your fan-ship, as it were. But after the night of June 22nd, 2007, Darren Hayes had completed the slow trek he’d embarked on 10 years prior, beginning with Savage Garden, and claimed a perch at the peak of my musical idols.
This experience, his experience, was undoubtedly the single-most impactful musical experience of my life so far. This was also the first time I was able to experience what was in store on his new double-disc opus, “This Delicate Thing We’ve Made.” Now that I have been living with this record for several days, letting it marinate, as it were, the dust has begun to settle, and I feel that now I can finally make a worthy assessment of how this particular experience settles with me.
Before we begin, let it be known just how much Mr. Hayes has to live up to in my eyes in following up what is truly one of my favorite albums of all time, “The Tension and The Spark.” The words “a lot,” don’t really begin to do it justice. With that said, it can be safely assumed that my expectations for this record were, suffice it to say, through the roof. Now that it has indeed “settled” with me, I find myself both over and under-whelmed all at the same time.
Sonically, Darren has never been more on point. If a love note were ever written to express how masterful pop-production and sound engineering could indeed sound, this record would be it. With Robert Conley at the helm of “Spark” and now Justin Shave taking the reigns on this beautiful beast, it seems the formerly Savage singer has quite a knack for finding veritable virtuosos in the production realm. His musical partners clearly not only share his vision, but also hone and magnify those visions, adding much to the exposition of Darren’s conveyance of thought. The production on this record is more integral to this conveyance than ever, what with recurring themes of quantum physics, science, and, ironically enough, engineering, and is utterly astounding to say the least. The album’s opener, “Fear of Falling Under” is a sheer sonic masterpiece; not so much a stand alone song as a fully developed intro, “Fear’s” connective blend into “Who Would Have Thought?” is the first of many powerful, chill-inducing moments waiting to be found within the album’s 25 tracks…
25 tracks…
Twenty five whole songs…
Twenty five…
Ten plus ten,
Plus five again…
I think I may be the first Darren acolyte to say that this was just too many for this record.
Now before you throw your hands up in arms and crucify me on the spot oh ye less-than-forgiving readers, please understand how badly I wanted this to work, how much I wanted this to be the sprawling opus it almost is. With “The Tension and The Spark” we the fans were treated to a glimpse into a truly brilliant recording artist’s, not to mention songwriter’s, mind at the time. What we found was a haunted expanse of pain yet un-dealt with, thoughtful contemplations regarding the human experience, and witty musings on the world around him. That album’s single disc was just enough to express what was being expressed concisely, enough to let Darren’s penchant for recurring themes, and sometimes phrases (“eyes connecting” and the lack thereof, etc) resound, but not grow redundant. Here, on “This Delicate Thing We’ve Made” we find so many recurring themes and phrases, so many times, that it does become redundant. Thoughts and phrases fully, and beautifully, expounded upon during “How to Build a Time Machine” are found several more times throughout the record, so many relationships and connections are said to be “amazing,” we hear about “this town” so very many times over the course of the record that one can almost predict when the lyric is about to bubble up again by the time you reach the album’s end. In 15 songs, this is reiteration, a mere recurring theme. In 25 songs, however, it does unfortunately become redundant.
With so many songs, Darren also has too much room to meander. A record that decidedly concerns revelation (revelation of the past, revelation of love, etc) strays too much on songs like "Bombs Up In My Face" and "The Great Disconnect." Despite the former being really sonically innovative and entertaining, its political messages seem to come out of nowhere and the latter is so blandly un-Darren it is almost cringe-worthy. Such Bono-esque, "heal the world" tripe is not what I think any Darren fan waits years to hear when he releases much anticipated new material. In an album of storytelling from a typically introverted storyteller, the odd commentary resonate as exactly that, odd. A shorter tracklist would definitely provide some necessary hedging here and there.
Another flaw seemingly magnified by the record’s length is the occasional unpalatable lyric. To be frank, some are too far-reaching, seemingly haphazard for the sake of being haphazard and at times self-indulgent. Darren ironically describes what the album almost becomes when he says he’s “searching for pieces, pieces left behind, discarded moments in the junkyard of my mind.” The last album was an invitation to a devilishly dark, deep, underground museum within Darren’s heart and mind, complete with tour-guide and all, whereas this one seems to be a couple hours spent in the sun-dappled attic of Darren’s mind while his heart has tea downstairs, pre-occupied with his new love; yes one finds many, many treasures during the stay, but must sift through quite a dusty bit to find it, without a guide at that.
Do not let these past few paragraphs fool you into thinking that I am by any means disappointed by this record, for that is truly not the case. I, for one, am loving every moment I spend in this attic of priceless antiques, pictures of the past, gilded time machines, and hidden treasures.
My favorite find so far has to be “Walk Away,” a magnificent, sprawling, acapella ode to a lover unscathed by the pain of a heartbreak that nearly cripples the other. This song is a masterpiece, and by the time the percussion comes in toward the end, the hardest of un-phased listeners will surely be moved, if not reduced to tears. This song is epic. Speaking of tears, “I Just Want You to Love Me” is bar-none the best love song Mr. Hayes has ever put his voice to, and will surely draw a few from the more sensitive listener. “Lucky Town” could have easily been crafted by the late Swede-pop luminary Denniz Pop (early Backstreet Boys, Five) or early, Robyn-era Max Martin, and “Sing to Me” could quite possibly be the best long-lost Savage Garden ballad never heard. The intriguing little music-box that is “Neverland” stands out as it is truly the only electronic pop song I’ve ever heard recorded in 3/3 time; a waltz that is not only about a boy plotting the murder of his abusive father, but a waltz that is, well, a waltz! With pop production and such! Really quite genius.
Speaking of genius, I might be reading a bit too much into it, but am I the only one who is drawing a correlation between “I Like The Way’s” pulsing reiteration of “there’s just one thing missing, one thing missing here is…love” with the swirling revelation of “Step Into The Light’s” “it feels like, it feels like, it feels like, I’ve never been in love before, it feels like I’ve never been in love before, it feels like…love?” I think I am onto something here, because both of the phrases in those songs are similar, except while the first one is about cheap, callous, love-free sex, and the kind of shallow doom it sentences one’s heart to, the other is truly a revelation that changes from “you know, I’ve never been in love before” to “it feels like I’ve never been in love before” and changes the entire context of the song’s title, “Step Into The Light,” making it so wonderfully smart on so many levels. It’s not about coaxing someone into the light, as the song would initially have you believe, it’s about Darren stepping out of the “Darkness” he found himself surrounded by on the last record. Simply genius, Darren.
In the realm of musical experiences, you won’t find one on par with “This Delicate Thing We’ve Made” any time soon. Darren Hayes has grown his wings much like that little origami bird roosting all over his album artwork these days, and truly is soaring. A bit lengthy, yes, but you’ll soon find your favorites and know which tracks to click to, know which boxes and chests to open in the attic, if you will. So take your own step into the light, buy this record immediately, and indulge in everything pop music can aspire to be. Club Delicacy is right. These delicacies are worth the indulgence.
For more on Simon Curtis, have a read of his interview here.
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