When I die, I want it marked down in my obituary that I survived the Great Damien Rice Drought of 2006-2014. There was such a long gap between Damien's second album 9 and the release of My Favourite Faded Fantasy last month that I almost forgot he existed ... and then I remembered and fell to my knees because Damien Rice makes me feel things like no other artist does. The first piece of music to ever make me cry was 'Accidental Babies'; just typing the words brings a lump to my throat. You may notice the weak attempts at hiding my affection with humour; to be quite honest, the effect Rice's work has on me makes me feel uncomfortable. He is, by far, the most arresting songwriter in my music library, and if you disagree I will fight you (see? I did it again. I can't handle this level of sincerity and yet the work demands it).
You see, the reason that I find his music so compelling is that I believe every word he sings. With some music you don't believe a thing, and then other music is quite compelling and you believe it and just let it sit, and then there's Damien Rice. When his voice cracks on 'The Greatest Bastard', more than once, you better believe I'm slumped forward in my seat, reaching for tissues, utterly devastated. It's not a pretty image, but then the emotions on My Favourite Faded Fantasy are not pretty; no one could say they don't recognise them. All through 'The Greatest Bastard' Rice toys with my faith in his words as he constantly questions himself; almost whispering he says "I made you laugh, I made you cry, I made you open up your eyes ... didn't I?" By the end of the album, as with every Damien Rice album, I just want to give him a big hug. And I'm not a hugging person.
It's good to have him back.
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