The soundtrack to our lives

Funny, isn't it - the arbitrary way in which certain songs lodge themselves deeply in the consciousness while others of no less quality prompt an apathetic shrug. Having thoroughly psychoanalysed myself, I'm convinced that one of the main reasons I so adore The Divine Comedy's song "Our Mutual Friend" is that it reminds me of a much-loved childhood audiobook of Roald Dahl's The Minpins (deliciously narrated by Joss Ackland).

There are, of course, other factors. The song tells a story to which we can, surely, all relate: boy meets girl, boy and girl get along like house on fire, get drunk, dance, kiss, pass out. Boy wakes up; girl is in the arms of boy's friend. But the brilliance of the song, as suggested in the line "it's like the soundtrack to our lives", is the way in which this humble little narrative is blown up onto a cinematic scale, complete with bombastic orchestral arrangement. There's something wonderfully, naively romantic about the effect these events have had on the narrator: "No matter how I try / I just can't get her out of my mind / And when I sleep / I visualise her".

And yet the strength of emotion, however apparently disproportionate, achieves its own validity. It helps that there is always a knowing twinkle in Hannon's writing and vocal delivery, a hint of self-parody (which, by the way, is notably missing from Daisy Chapman's beautiful cover - see below). Behind the lushness and pomp are occasional reminders of the everyday nature of the source material: the reference to Tom Jones, the word "settee". I love the way the phrase "above the beat" cues the tympani and sleigh-bells - suddenly a sweaty nightclub becomes an enchanted ballroom.

It probably helps that I first fell in love with this song as a melodramatic adolescent. But I still have no trouble really, really caring about the outcome of this mini-tragedy. I hold my breath when the narrator tries to hide his excitement with a casual "Cool - the feeling's mutual"; my heart leaps when Hannon rapturously sings "and then we kissed..."; I share in his indignation as he spits out "WRAPPED around another lover". The lyric ends with a neatly dovetailed twist, as the mutual friend of the title is reintroduced, bringing all the satisfaction of a great short story. But it's also a great piece of music - and no matter how I try, I just can't get it out of my mind.


(NB the album version is far superior)

Aha! The solution to the worldwide blog shortage!

OK, so the internet isn't exactly gasping for another blog. Who in their right mind would care about my views on anything, except possibly my friends, who could just ask me in person?

Well, quite. So by way of excuse: firstly, I do have an awful lot of twaddle in my head, and it has to go somewhere; secondly, and boringly, I do quite want to eventually make a career out of writing twaddle, and it's probably as well to get some practice in.

So this is primarily a cyber-void for me to scream into - but never fear, I'll keep it on matters I think might be of (some) general interest, rather than the cringe-inducingly personal. Contents may vary.