Three songs from 1996’s breakthrough album “Casanova” took the audience back to the band’s heyday.
Hidden behind dark sunglasses and dressed in a dark pinstriped suit over a black shirt, Neil Hannon cut a suitably enigmatic figure as he launched into opener “Something for the Weekend”.
Despite the Usher Hall being an all-seated affair, “Becoming More Like Alfie” had fans shuffling in their seats as though it really was 1996 all over again. Before introducing “The Frog Princess”, Hannon poured himself a generous glass of red wine and raised it in a toast to the audience. For a fleeting moment, he resembled a suave 1970s television chat show host, poised to welcome the celebrity guest of the evening rather than launch into “The Frog Princess”.
“Norman and Norma” showcased one of Hannon’s greatest strengths as a songwriter. Few pop lyricists possess his gift for sketching richly drawn characters, finding both humour and heartbreak in the ordinary. He traced the melancholy tale of an unremarkable Norfolk couple through the stages of their lives before their fading romance was unexpectedly rekindled during an eccentric re-enactment of the Battle of Hastings. “Generation Sex” proved another exquisitely crafted pop moment, its irresistible melody disguising one of Hannon’s sharpest lyrical satires.
It’s often the less celebrated songs that leave the biggest impression, and “Bang Goes the Knighthood” soon took on a life of its own. Under a wash of red light, Hannon seemed to relish every line with just the right amount of theatrical flourish. Like so much of his writing, the humour comes with a sting, taking aim at status, privilege and those who find themselves in positions of power.
“How Can You Leave Me on My Own?” found Hannon at his most delightfully self-deprecating. A song about being left to his own devices while his partner is away for the weekend, it turns everyday domestic dependence into gloriously overblown melodrama.
The mood shifted with “A Lady of a Certain Age”, one of the evening’s most affecting performances, its bittersweet portrait of fading glamour, regret and resilience delivered like a miniature piece of theatre. That mood continued with “The Last Time I Saw the Old Man”, written about Hannon’s father, the former Church of Ireland Bishop of Clogher, following his long struggle with Alzheimer’s. It carried an understated emotional weight that needed no embellishment.
By the time “National Express” arrived, the evening had reached its inevitable conclusion. Hannon encouraged the audience to abandon the etiquette of an all-seated concert and make their way to the front, a request that was met with little hesitation. Before long, the space in front of the stage was packed with fans dancing and singing every word.
Dispensing with the customary encore, Hannon rolled straight into “At the Indie Disco” before “Songs of Love”, now forever synonymous with Father Ted. There was only ever going to be one way to finish. “Tonight We Fly” began with a quiet gallop before bursting into a glorious crescendo, lifting voices and spirits in equal measure.
As the final note faded around the Usher Hall, nobody seemed in any great hurry to leave, nor did Hannon, but as he pointed out, “it’s the last song”.
Outside, we moved back into the city feeling lighter, but still reluctant to let the moment go.
