Ed Harcourt is a busy man. Back in London for two shows that finish off his UK tour there are faulty microphones to be adjusted, a beloved wife who has suffered an automobile breakdown en route to the venue, sleep deprivation to combat, friends to guest list, and a journalist to talk to. The man appears, rakish in a velvet jacket and clutching as many bottles of beer as he can carry, and we head down to Regent’s Park from Cecil Sharp House, the headquarters of the English Folk Dance and Song Society, where he will play in two hours time. Summer is finally here and an inane game of softball, played by high-fiving finance buffoons, provides the backdrop and no small measure of amusement.
Charming and open, Ed nevertheless sports a pair of Ray-Bans. Late night? “Yeah, the crowd were amazing up in Leeds last night, we had a really good time,” he confirms. “Blind drunk and we had to set off back for London at five in the morning. Been feeling awful all day but now I’ve had a drink I feel great.” And why wouldn’t he? Now an ecstatically-married man, to violinist Gita, the prolific Ed has a new album, his fifth in six years, ready to delight his devoted fanbase with.
“‘The Beautiful Lie’ is my show-off album,” says Ed. “I recorded 30 songs split into two distinct sounds and then had to choose which to release. One lot was done on eight-track and tape machine, all moods and psychedelic sounds and the other was chamber-strings and piano… baroque ‘n’ roll if you will. A lot of the songs that were left off I was disappointed didn’t make it but as a collection of songs I think it flows pretty well sequentially.”
The album sees a return to the simplicity and elegance of his debut ‘Maplewood’ but with the added element of storytelling, a more outward looking perspective, in places. “It is a mish-mash of narrative mixed in with more personal songs, open letters to people really. ‘You Only Call Me When You’re Drunk’ is directed at a good friend of mine who literally was like that. ‘Good Friends Are Hard To Find’ was a tribute to a friend in a band who I was really worried about. With songs like ‘The Last Cigarette’ I’m getting into the idea of creating characters and stories.”
How does it compare to previous albums? “Much of the material on ‘Strangers’ was attributable to the woman who is now my wife. The excitement and anticipation of falling in love again. The track ‘Let Love Not Weigh Me Down’ was all about how love is obsessive and it can fuck you up if something terrible happens. This is much more dreamy and weirder, harking back to ‘Maplewood’.”
‘The Beautiful Lie’ features collaborations with BJ Cole and Graham Coxon and over the years Ed has played the hired gun role himself many times. “BJ Cole has played live with me on many occasions over the years. I met Graham through Danny Goffey [drummer with Supergrass] and saw him at a few different parties; we got along like a house on fire. We did Jonathan Ross [radio show] last week – he played on my song and I played on his. Ross said Graham’s song sounded like John Cooper Clark meeting Elton John… either an amazing or horrific meeting of minds.”
I never know where I’m going – I do everything on a whim, impulsive and spontaneous.
“I’m a bit of a musical whore really. I’ve done sessions for Cat Stevens and Ron Sexsmith. I record with people all the time – it’s how I live. I’m like a sponge in that I suck up inspiration from everything around me. It’s not conscious but when I come to write it’s obviously been stuck somewhere in my brain and it can resurface come out in a song. Writing for me seems to come from a higher power and feels otherworldly. I’m constantly working on ideas but I never know where I’m going – I do everything on a whim, impulsive and spontaneous. I think that is always the way when you create anything.”
A recent meeting with musician Owen Pallett, who plays as Final Fantasy as well with the Arcade Fire, clarified Ed’s thinking about the risks of consuming music as a commodity. “We played together in Germany recently and swapped albums, his is called ‘He Poos Clouds’. I put it on and thought ‘this is a load of shit’. But when I put it on again it was better than I thought actually. I put it on during dinner and really listened. It is an amazing piece of work but I hadn’t appreciated it straight away maybe because of a mood or lack of concentration or any number of things. People need to live with music; it is very lazy not to respect someone’s music enough to listen properly. We live in the least patient time in human history… it’s all about immediacy.”
I ask if Ed thinks he will maintain his bountiful rate of creative output. “I don’t think so,” he replies. “I’ve calmed down a lot and it’s quality not quantity that counts. I’ve written loads of songs I consider absolute shit and hopefully no one will ever hear them. It’ll be okay as provided I don’t die they won’t ever be put out on some terrible anthology.” In the event of an untimely and premature demise would he and his music be posthumously “massive” along the lines of Nick Drake or Jeff Buckley? “Yeah, probably. It would be tragic because I wouldn’t be there to stop my music being put on a fucking car advert or a rom-com soundtrack. I’m planning on sticking around though, life’s just too exciting to miss.” Ed Harcourt might not know where he’s going but it’s a journey worth taking with him.
