Monochrome to Colour

Ed Harcourts music has always conveyed a sense of drama, often segueing during his later releases into outright grandeur. Since debuting with the Mercury Prize-nominated Here Be Monsters in 2001, the English musicians reputation has largely been built on songwriting, both for his own eclectic alt rock albums and for artists like Marianne Faithfull and Sophie Ellis-Bextor. But with 2019s Beyond the End, Harcourt entered a new phase, omitting lyrics entirely and recasting himself as a composer of windswept elegies and somber tone poems. As a classically trained pianist-turned-pop star, it was in a way a revisitation of his roots and he follows it up with a second all-instrumental set in 2020s Monochrome to Colour. Although similar to its predecessor in overall construction and scope, this new collection feels altogether more hopeful, at times bordering on ecstatic. Harcourts piano work remains at the heart of these 12 pieces, which are layered throughout in ethereal synths, lush strings, and resounding drums. They range in mood from sweet, celestial ambience to full-on orchestral bombast, sometimes within the same piece. Opener First Light rides a glacial, almost-formless melody to craggy drum-laden crescendos, a trick that Harcourt pulls out more than once on Monochrome to Colour. Likewise, the impressive Ascension follows similar suit, building up its insistent piano rhythms into a sudden barrage of heavy drum fills that give the album a post-rock feel and a Radiohead-like iciness. With its comparatively subdued arrangement and warmly old-fashioned melodic refrain, Only the Darkness Smiles for You provides a welcome respite and flashes both Harcourts classical piano chops and compositional elegance. The wistful Childhood introduces an antique dulcitone into the mix, varying the tonal palette ahead of the lovely King Raman, which boasts another sweet melody that could have come from a much earlier era. Ending on a triumphant note, the title track is also the albums most resplendent, recalling bits of 80s Vangelis woven with sun-dappled threads of wordless vocal harmonies. At first blush, Monochrome to Colour tends to blend into itself, but repeated listens reveal plenty of character and craft within its many fine layers. ~ Timothy Monger