In every life some rain must fall, they say, and sometimes the rain pouring out of the skies is nothing else than a decent, sometimes depressing break-up. Everybody has a story to tell, and some musicians chose to do it in their own peculiar ways, and we call it „break-up album“. Frank Sinatra has done it, Marvin Gaye has done it, Richard and Linda Thompson did it and burned all candles down in real studio time. It’s still a never-ending discussion if ABBA or Joy Division have recorded the saddest farewell song of them all. When I heard that English maverick Darren Hayman is the next one in the line of the heartbroken, I was not particularly impressed. For someone who loves to take one „lateral drift“ after the other, from the British countryside trilogy to old Florence, from legendary Apollo astronauts to open and disused British open-air swimming pools, a break-up album doesn‘t seem to be the most original choice. But there you are, down and out, and you don‘t give a shit on having a knack for outsider stuff. Thing is I started listening to it without great expectations and was, honestly, blown way after the first seconds. I listened to Home Time twice in a row, and loved every song. I loved the (black) humour, the sadness, the melodies, the twists, the sounds of the instruments, the sound of the room, the lyrics, the space between the lyrics, the survival techniques, the music hall tradition, the cover painting, the elevation of my mood. It‘s quite a brilliant affair. And maybe the most jubilant break-up album ever. It‘s not too hard to believe the hardest was behind him when recording began, with a deep relief crawling from the margins to the center of every sad, sad, (not so) sad song.
