The Best Song of the Last Five Years

I truly believe that Norman and Nora by the Divine Comedy is one of the best songs written and released in the last five years.

To step back a moment, people love to talk about their obsessive tendencies or personalities. I wouldn’t go that far, but there are certain things I have a habit of getting hung up on and one of those things has always been music.

Songs in particular.

At 17 it was The Beatles. Introduced by a friend, I devoured everything their back catalogue had to offer and listened to A Day in the Life and You Never Give Me Your Money incessantly, marvelling at the way one song was created from what sounded like two.

After that, it was Ben Folds. His at times excitingly complicated, at others disarmingly simple command of the piano and the driving rhythm and delicate melodies it gives rise to took a hold of me and haven’t let go.

Four or five years ago it was Elvis Costello. Alison was the hook; as close to a perfect song as I can think of, it continually caught me off guard – and still does – as it faded out, whilst I sat entranced, hopelessly hoping for one more verse and chorus.

But, as impressive and compelling as the musical ability of these artists undoubtedly is, that’s never what’s drawn me in. For me, the gravitational pull that keeps me orbiting a song like a nerdy satellite is emitted by its lyrics.

It turns out I’m drawn to story over and above meoldy – the characters created, the paths they follow, the decisions they make, the people and the debris they leave in their wake. There’s just something incredibly impressive of not just relaying a feeling, but a story complete with a beginning, a middle and an end in 3 or 4 minutes.

And that’s why I think Norman and Nora is exceptional. If you haven’t listened to the song already, now is probably the time to do so.

Introduced to a newly married couple, we listen as their achingly mundane, but all too familiar life unfolds before them. From care-free frolicking in the the sun, to children, forgone holidays, workplace discrimination, and an increased susceptibility to debilitating illness, we listen as life’s many inevitabilities creep up on and pass them by, before eventually join them during an admittedly tongue-in-cheek resolve at a battle reenactment in Clacton.

The whole thing is self-indulgent, self-knowing and over the top — and that’s one of two reasons why it’s great. It elevates the ordinary.

The second reason is because, regardless of its irreverant pomp, in just three verses and three choruses it succinctly summarises shared experiences. Remove the repetition — and the clashes between Normans and Saxons — and in 23 lines you have a picture of and insight into lives that are recognisable and characters you feel you know.

That’s impressive storytelling, regardless of your views on rhyming ‘salsa classes’ with ‘growing tomatoes’.