This Delicate Thing We've Made [Box set]

Darren Hayes is, it seems, not only one of the finest (if most underrated) singers and songwriters of our generation, he is also a master of reinvention.
After the so-so 'Spin' that was all a bit Justin Timberlake (but before Justin Timberlake), Hayes returned with the superb, but impossible to pigeon-hole 'Tension and the Spark'. Where the first was ballady and RnB-inspired, designed to follow in the wake of Savage Garden, the follow up was a huge departure - dark electronica, moody atmospherics, and inspired but self-loathing lyrics. It sounded like Mirwais and Depeche Mode in a bad mood, but with great melodies. It freaked his label out, and they parted ways.

'This Delicate Thing We've Made' is released on Hayes' own label and is, presumably, the record he's been wanting to make for years. And now he's his own boss, he's doing everything his own way. Bizarrely, it's the most commercial-sounding thing he's ever done. His old record label must be kicking themselves.

It's a double-disc (25 track) pop opus. It is a deeply felt, moving, and ultimatey thunderingly joyous celebration of life and of pop music. Though the tracks vary in style and genre, often deliberately sequenced so as to draw attention to their differences ('Setting Sun' followed by 'A Hundred Challenging Things' is one of the most dramatic changes of mood I've ever heard), together they form a whole that is one of the most enjoyable and one of the most intelligent pop albums of the last decade.

It seems inspired by, and certainly deserves to be regarded alongsde, albums such as Kate Bush's 'Hounds of Love', Madonna's 'Ray of Light', U2's 'Achtung Baby', Prince's 'LoveSexy', Tears for Fears 'Seeds of Love' and Peter Gabriels 'So'. Certainly there are musical nods to those artists, and to others.

In terms of style, there is pure pop celebration here, in the form of songs like 'Listen All You People', 'Tuning of Violins' and the first single 'On the Verge...', there is disco stopming in tracks like 'Step into the Light'. 'Casey' proves that melancholy, yearning lyrics don't have to be stuck on ballads, but can be sung over uptempo, glorious synth pop to heart-wrenching effect. In tracks like 'Bombs Up in My Face' and 'Me Myself and (i)' Hayes is channelling Prince at his purplest and funkiest best.

In many ways, though, it is the more eccentric tracks - the kinds of things that record companies would balk at - that make this album such a special thing, and such a delicate thing. 'How To Build A Time Machine' soars like the long lost companion piece to Kate Bush's 'Cloudbusting' and plays with metaphor and complex lyrics in a way that few other writers would dare. 'Great Big Disconnect' sounds like something Lennon would write if he were living in Bush's America and had ditched Yoko, 'Setting Sun' is all snarly nastiness with an irresistable beat and 'Neverland' explores a child's fantasy of patricide over a delicte, music box twinkle, like a soundtrack to a Tim Burton movie.

To be honest, any 11 of the tracks could have been released as an album, and would have made a great record. But by giving himself room to explore musical avenues, develop his themes (loss, yearning, and ultimately a life enhancing joy), play with imagery and (dare one say it) nudge the whole thing towards being a concept record (but a good one - there's a story here of someone travelling through time to erase the pain of the past that pays off brilliantly at the end of the album and never gets in the way of the music) Hayes has created something that really demands to be listened to, that hooks you and completely seduces you.

Though it borrows cheekily from the history of pop - particularly the 80s - and makes nods to all kinds of artists, it doesn't sound quite like anything else that is around at the moment. The lyrics are intelligent and sound like they come from an artist who actually means what he sings, and the melodies, whether complex or simple, are a breath of fresh air.

In some ways it is an anachronism - a heartfelt pop record when most pop is ironic and self-mocking, a double record that dares to develop ideas over time when most music is designed to be listened to for two minutes and be forgotten.

It is a wonderful record, one of the best things I've heard in a long, long time, and I implore you - for your own sake - to get it as soon as you can.

The NME called him a genius. They weren't wrong.

Darren Hayes is, it seems, not only one of the finest (if most underrated) singers and songwriters of our generation, he is also a master of reinvention.
After the so-so 'Spin' that was all a bit Justin Timberlake (but before Justin Timberlake), Hayes returned with the superb, but impossible to pigeon-hole 'Tension and the Spark'. Where the first was ballady and RnB-inspired, designed to follow in the wake of Savage Garden, the follow up was a huge departure - dark electronica, moody atmospherics, and inspired but self-loathing lyrics. It sounded like Mirwais and Depeche Mode in a bad mood, but with great melodies. It freaked his label out, and they parted ways.

'This Delicate Thing We've Made' is released on Hayes' own label and is, presumably, the record he's been wanting to make for years. And now he's his own boss, he's doing everything his own way. Bizarrely, it's the most commercial-sounding thing he's ever done. His old record label must be kicking themselves.

It's a double-disc (25 track) pop opus. It is a deeply felt, moving, and ultimatey thunderingly joyous celebration of life and of pop music. Though the tracks vary in style and genre, often deliberately sequenced so as to draw attention to their differences ('Setting Sun' followed by 'A Hundred Challenging Things' is one of the most dramatic changes of mood I've ever heard), together they form a whole that is one of the most enjoyable and one of the most intelligent pop albums of the last decade.

It seems inspired by, and certainly deserves to be regarded alongsde, albums such as Kate Bush's 'Hounds of Love', Madonna's 'Ray of Light', U2's 'Achtung Baby', Prince's 'LoveSexy', Tears for Fears 'Seeds of Love' and Peter Gabriels 'So'. Certainly there are musical nods to those artists, and to others.

In terms of style, there is pure pop celebration here, in the form of songs like 'Listen All You People', 'Tuning of Violins' and the first single 'On the Verge...', there is disco stopming in tracks like 'Step into the Light'. 'Casey' proves that melancholy, yearning lyrics don't have to be stuck on ballads, but can be sung over uptempo, glorious synth pop to heart-wrenching effect. In tracks like 'Bombs Up in My Face' and 'Me Myself and (i)' Hayes is channelling Prince at his purplest and funkiest best.

In many ways, though, it is the more eccentric tracks - the kinds of things that record companies would balk at - that make this album such a special thing, and such a delicate thing. 'How To Build A Time Machine' soars like the long lost companion piece to Kate Bush's 'Cloudbusting' and plays with metaphor and complex lyrics in a way that few other writers would dare. 'Great Big Disconnect' sounds like something Lennon would write if he were living in Bush's America and had ditched Yoko, 'Setting Sun' is all snarly nastiness with an irresistable beat and 'Neverland' explores a child's fantasy of patricide over a delicte, music box twinkle, like a soundtrack to a Tim Burton movie.

To be honest, any 11 of the tracks could have been released as an album, and would have made a great record. But by giving himself room to explore musical avenues, develop his themes (loss, yearning, and ultimately a life enhancing joy), play with imagery and (dare one say it) nudge the whole thing towards being a concept record (but a good one - there's a story here of someone travelling through time to erase the pain of the past that pays off brilliantly at the end of the album and never gets in the way of the music) Hayes has created something that really demands to be listened to, that hooks you and completely seduces you.

Though it borrows cheekily from the history of pop - particularly the 80s - and makes nods to all kinds of artists, it doesn't sound quite like anything else that is around at the moment. The lyrics are intelligent and sound like they come from an artist who actually means what he sings, and the melodies, whether complex or simple, are a breath of fresh air.

In some ways it is an anachronism - a heartfelt pop record when most pop is ironic and self-mocking, a double record that dares to develop ideas over time when most music is designed to be listened to for two minutes and be forgotten.

It is a wonderful record, one of the best things I've heard in a long, long time, and I implore you - for your own sake - to get it as soon as you can.

The NME called him a genius. They weren't wrong.

Darren Hayes is, it seems, not only one of the finest (if most underrated) singers and songwriters of our generation, he is also a master of reinvention.
After the so-so 'Spin' that was all a bit Justin Timberlake (but before Justin Timberlake), Hayes returned with the superb, but impossible to pigeon-hole 'Tension and the Spark'. Where the first was ballady and RnB-inspired, designed to follow in the wake of Savage Garden, the follow up was a huge departure - dark electronica, moody atmospherics, and inspired but self-loathing lyrics. It sounded like Mirwais and Depeche Mode in a bad mood, but with great melodies. It freaked his label out, and they parted ways.

'This Delicate Thing We've Made' is released on Hayes' own label and is, presumably, the record he's been wanting to make for years. And now he's his own boss, he's doing everything his own way. Bizarrely, it's the most commercial-sounding thing he's ever done. His old record label must be kicking themselves.

It's a double-disc (25 track) pop opus. It is a deeply felt, moving, and ultimatey thunderingly joyous celebration of life and of pop music. Though the tracks vary in style and genre, often deliberately sequenced so as to draw attention to their differences ('Setting Sun' followed by 'A Hundred Challenging Things' is one of the most dramatic changes of mood I've ever heard), together they form a whole that is one of the most enjoyable and one of the most intelligent pop albums of the last decade.

It seems inspired by, and certainly deserves to be regarded alongsde, albums such as Kate Bush's 'Hounds of Love', Madonna's 'Ray of Light', U2's 'Achtung Baby', Prince's 'LoveSexy', Tears for Fears 'Seeds of Love' and Peter Gabriels 'So'. Certainly there are musical nods to those artists, and to others.

In terms of style, there is pure pop celebration here, in the form of songs like 'Listen All You People', 'Tuning of Violins' and the first single 'On the Verge...', there is disco stopming in tracks like 'Step into the Light'. 'Casey' proves that melancholy, yearning lyrics don't have to be stuck on ballads, but can be sung over uptempo, glorious synth pop to heart-wrenching effect. In tracks like 'Bombs Up in My Face' and 'Me Myself and (i)' Hayes is channelling Prince at his purplest and funkiest best.

In many ways, though, it is the more eccentric tracks - the kinds of things that record companies would balk at - that make this album such a special thing, and such a delicate thing. 'How To Build A Time Machine' soars like the long lost companion piece to Kate Bush's 'Cloudbusting' and plays with metaphor and complex lyrics in a way that few other writers would dare. 'Great Big Disconnect' sounds like something Lennon would write if he were living in Bush's America and had ditched Yoko, 'Setting Sun' is all snarly nastiness with an irresistable beat and 'Neverland' explores a child's fantasy of patricide over a delicte, music box twinkle, like a soundtrack to a Tim Burton movie.

To be honest, any 11 of the tracks could have been released as an album, and would have made a great record. But by giving himself room to explore musical avenues, develop his themes (loss, yearning, and ultimately a life enhancing joy), play with imagery and (dare one say it) nudge the whole thing towards being a concept record (but a good one - there's a story here of someone travelling through time to erase the pain of the past that pays off brilliantly at the end of the album and never gets in the way of the music) Hayes has created something that really demands to be listened to, that hooks you and completely seduces you.

Though it borrows cheekily from the history of pop - particularly the 80s - and makes nods to all kinds of artists, it doesn't sound quite like anything else that is around at the moment. The lyrics are intelligent and sound like they come from an artist who actually means what he sings, and the melodies, whether complex or simple, are a breath of fresh air.

In some ways it is an anachronism - a heartfelt pop record when most pop is ironic and self-mocking, a double record that dares to develop ideas over time when most music is designed to be listened to for two minutes and be forgotten.

It is a wonderful record, one of the best things I've heard in a long, long time, and I implore you - for your own sake - to get it as soon as you can.

The NME called him a genius. They weren't wrong.