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Darren Hayman
Table For One
Track and Field
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Article
written by Ged M
Apr 3, 2006.
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Most songs are clichés because most songwriters have no imagination, merely an ability to reconfigure familiar words and arrangements (usually love-related) into slightly different combinations: “second-grade fresh”, in the words of a Russian novelist. That lesson teaches us to cherish the originals: the writers who, once you’ve heard them, make you think about the world in a different light. Darren Hayman is one of the English originals. As an outsider looking in, he identifies with the loveless and the lost; he dignifies the nobodies with a story worth telling. From Kathy, Trevor and his mum in ‘Caravan Song’, the headteacher of ‘The English Head’ or the girl wearing shoes that said “please like me” (‘That’s Not What She’s Like’), the album is full of character. And the best thing about his songs is that he backs his characters with gorgeous melodies and the most bittersweet twists and utterly quotable lines.
‘Caravan Song’ is more uptempo than the version on the Static Caravan single, with the sweetest chorus and memorable lyrics: “all they want is to be free/ but no-one knows what freedom means”. John Morrison’s electronica on ‘The English Head’ is reminiscent of The French with a reggae lilt while ‘The Protons and the Neutrons’ continues the machine music theme until the tension lifts in the majestic melodic chorus and it becomes a love song again. With songs about the National Canine Defence League, London café culture and the sad story of the last days of the Velvet Underground (‘Doug Yule’s Velvet Underground’) he fills a broad canvas with the most vivid word paintings (sample: “she’s got a good heart/ but an underused library card”).
Musically, he’s better and more consistent than ever before, combining the best elements of Hefner and The French. The sound has improved, reducing the reliance on machines and returning to the Hefner days of real drums and guitars. ‘Perfect Homes’ seems to sum up what’s best about the record: it’s an almost country song, with pedal steel, fiddle and liquid piano playing and a heartstopping chorus, undermining in a cynical but affectionate way the notion of an Englishman’s home being a castle: “all walls let the shit and heartache in/they don’t seem safe in English homes”. Darren’s stories may not be the happiest subject matter but the way he tells them will make you smile; insecurity has never sounded quite this good.
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