Danny Horn & The Shared Myths - The Death of Lucy (2025) Hi-Res

he third studio album from Danny Horn & the Shared Myths. Danny Horn’s latest is an album of emotional wreckage – with heartbreak sometimes hidden beneath melody. “Lucy” is Danny Horn’s muse. She does not die on this album. Rather Horn appears to be putting a line under his previous work, and perhaps some of his personal pain, by killing off his symbol of bad relationships.

Songs on “The Death of Lucy” revolve around themes of loss, self-doubt, inner conflict, and the complex, often destructive nature of relationships. Horn builds a world in which characters are deeply flawed, emotional, and searching for meaning in a world that feels chaotic and unyielding. What stands out across the songs is the sense of longing – whether it’s for understanding, connection, or resolution – and the ever-present tension between self-destruction and the hope for something better.

There is, however, often a real disconnect between the power of the lyrics and the music. The music can at times be jaunty, the delivery almost light-hearted, but the words pack a real punch. It might be that Horn has dressed up his anguish and self-doubt in a prettier package to make it more palatable – or the intention might have been for the music to add a level of irony to the words. Whatever the intent, it works.

Musically, most of the songs are built on the classic combination of bass, either double or electric, plucked guitar, brushed drums and some amazing fiddle work. Indeed, the strings often provide the main music line in songs and add another voice to Horn’s.

With the information that came with album Horn provided a brief overview of the songs; these are just as brilliant as the lyrics themselves. For example, Horn describes album opener ‘Pretenders’ as “Re-entering the world, you recognise nothing. You’re haunted by your past. So just pretend that you’re fine.” This is a witty, and near perfect, description of a song that feels like an emotional outpouring with Horn wrestling with his own identity in the face of a complex yet unhealthy relationship. There is bitterness and regret too. The song begins with Horn on his own half-singing and half-whispering the lines “And now I see with new found accuracy/What you had to show me/You don’t know me/And you never, ever will”. Horn’s voice is then joined by the instrumentation which lifts the song. He goes on to sing, “I’m sorry you were caught up in the fray/I need a while to straighten up/Until then I may be abrupt/A subtle self-destruction is the play” – lines which capture the struggle with self-sabotage and emotional chaos in a raw, affecting way.

‘Pretenders’ is followed by ‘Keep on Careening Karina’ – a song that is musically uplifting, almost playful, but lyrically deals with heartbreak, obsession and disillusionment – or as Horn puts it, “a fun bop along about a toxic relationship”. The strings are to the fore in this song and seem to set the tone and the rhythm. Lines like “Karina knows what she’s doing/It’s not the first time Karina’s done it to you” reflect the awareness of toxicity of the relationship as well as the inability to break away from it.

Two contrasting songs in the middle of the album may well capture the essence of “The Death of Lucy”. ‘Stolen Nights in Jericho’ is perhaps the tune that has the most synchronicity between lyrics and music: it is a number that is absorbed by darkness and creates and almost feverish atmosphere. Lines like “I see you, but I don’t see you/I’m with you but I’m not with you” capture the sense of being emotionally present but mentally distant – and continue Horn’s exploration of self-destruction and fleeting connection. And then comes the brilliantly named ‘South Korean Style Cauliflower Wings’. This is a rousing sing-along, until you notice what you are belting out: the internal struggle of guilt – “We stand in the shadow of original sin/Go ever gentle to the fires within”.

“The Death of Lucy” is an album that dances around devastation with a wry smile. By letting go of Lucy, Horn seems to be shedding more than a character; he’s unearthing emotional truths that are raw, disarming and – thanks to his musical craft – surprisingly uplifting. It’s a compelling contradiction, and one that makes this album one to return to again and again.