Sometimes frustrating, often inspired; what else can be said at the end of the day other than it’s unequivocally, unmistakably, emphatically “Antony”?
A man of exquisite natural talents, Antony Hegarty has differing effects on different sets of ears. Whilst there's no contesting his compositions or heavenly voice, some of his half-baked philosophising can be a little hard to swallow. Pretentious, narcissistic, victim self-identifying; the spoken word piece Future Feminism - a protest over “patriarchal systems of governance” - crystallizes all these traits, as he makes grand assumptions and guffaws at his own jokes.
The diabolical shame is that such posturing is a dangerous distraction to some aching, truly gorgeous music. A number of performances such as Epilepsy Is Dancing, The Crying Light and Another World arguably outshine the originals, whilst the cascade of pure emotion that flows through Cripple &The Starfish - with its potent mix of confused childhood imagery and wounded defiance - is oddly heroic. Taking centre stage is Hegarty's quivering, transcendent voice, whose sheer vulnerability could halt a bloodthirsty army in its tracks. It earns all the superlatives that can possibly be thrown at it; velvety, strong yet delicate, and yes, Nina Simone-esque, and is enhanced here with arrangements by the Danish National Chamber Orchestra that are so natural and sympathetic, that after a couple of listens it becomes hard to accept that they didn't adorn the original studio versions.
No doubt his theatrical impulses and ongoing fixation with everything transgender fuels his muse and provides ammunition to his detractors. Sometimes frustrating, often inspired; what else can be said at the end of the day other than it's unequivocally, unmistakably, emphatically “Antony”?