The Divine Comedy // The Barbican, York
Elegance and Wit: The Divine Comedy Enchant York Barbican
⭐⭐⭐⭐(4/5)
THE DIVINE COMEDY PERFORMING AT YORK’S BARBICAN CENTRE
PHOTOCREDIT: JOHN HAYHURST
Last night at the York Barbican, The Divine Comedy delivered the kind of sweeping, sophisticated pop-orchestra spectacle you’ve come to expect, yet with just enough fresh spark to keep things exciting. From the opening chords of new song “Achilles,” (track 1:side 1 of new album) Neil Hannon and his crew set the tone: grand, nimble, literate. However, it became obvious that Hannon was not in the best spirits, due as he admitted early on to a splitting headache, his hat giving some comfort from the much dimmed lights.
They followed swiftly with another newbie “The Last Time I Saw the Old Man,” a song heavy with memory and regret, its strings and brass weaving a bittersweet atmosphere that filled the hall. At that point we were all praying that they weren’t going to run through a new album in track order, thankfully “When the Lights Go Out All Over Europe,” shifted albums and shifted gears into something more world-weary yet defiant, as if the band were both mourning and rallying.
Throughout the evening, Hannon’s stage presence felt light but authoritative. He delivered quips between songs — a touch of humour here, a memory there — but never distracted from the music. The band’s precision was impressive: sweeping string flourishes, cheeky riffs, classic harmonies and rock-driven rhythms when required. In The Barbican’s intimate theatre setting, the sound was rich and immediate; you could hear the brushed-drum tap, the subtle swell of the violin, the occasional sigh in Neil’s vocal.
“Rainy Sunday Afternoon,” title track of this new record, arrived with its lush orchestration and wistful melody, settling everyone into a reflective mood before the nostalgic bounce of “Norman and Norma” reminded us that Hannon still knows how to write a charming vignette about ordinary lives made poetic.
When “I Want You” kicked in, the tempo shifted again, horns brightening, the audience stirred. By the time “Bang Goes the Knighthood” blasted through with its jaunty cynicism, all doubts that The Divine Comedy were merely a retrospective act and that Neil Hannon was going to deliver a below par performance had been banished. They’re very much alive, and firing on all cylinders despite the illness.
Hannon introduced the band by making them a drink from his trolley, Margaritas and Baileys seemed to be the main choices made, Neil preferring just to rub an ice cube over his brow and take a gulp of red wine. Then they delivered a superb rendition of “Mar-a-Lago by the Sea”.
What made the night stand out was how seamlessly The Divine Comedy bridged past and present. Songs from their catalogue sat comfortably alongside the newer material — your favourite track from the 1990s glory days still felt vital, while the newer songs proved they’re not resting on old laurels. “Happy Goth” got a big shout out, “Songs of Love” (my personal favourite) had the full band treatment and “Lady of a Certain Age” later was impeccable.
Then came the up-tempo songs and Hannon actively encouraged everyone to get up out of their seats to move their bodies, even though he clearly didn’t fancy it himself. “Something for the Weekend” and “Becoming More Like Alfie” were greeted with wild abandon in some quarters of the room.
The set’s pacing was typically Hannon-esque: moments of high wit and orchestral swagger interspersed with quieter, reflective passages. After the inevitable “National Express” finale, the encore — unavoidable in such a crowd — arrived only after some gentle taunts from the band (“Ready for one more?”) and delivered catharsis. As the final chord of “Tonight We Fly” rang out and the lights came up, the applause felt both relieved and exuberant.
If there’s one small critique, it’s that the very polish of the show sometimes smoothed over the edges. At times you longed for a rawer, rougher moment to throw off the veneer. But that’s a minor niggle when you’re being treated to music as finely crafted as this and by someone who is clearly suffering.
In the grand scheme, The Divine Comedy’s performance in York was a reminder of why they matter: smart, melodic, emotional, and still full of ambition. Tonight they told stories, built atmospheres, and guided us through a suite of moods. Keep an eye out, because they’re still worth paying attention to.
REVIEW + PHOTOS BY: JOHN HAYHURST
