Conor O’Brien, despite his modest physical presence, holds a strong intellectual footprint. As an enthusiast of literature, an eloquent speaker, and an award-winning musician, O’Brien makes his prominence felt in the industry. Over the last decade and half, his band ‘Villagers’ has produced a series of acclaimed albums, earning him sizable recognition. These achievements comprise two Ivor Novello awards for the best lyrically and musically sound song ‘Becoming a Jackal’ in 2011 and best album ‘Darling Arithmetic’ in 2015. He also gained two Mercury Prize nominations, once in 2010 for ‘Becoming a Jackal’, and then in 2013 for ‘Awayland’. Moreover, O’Brien is the lone Irish musician whose all five studio productions have been vying for the Choice Music Prize Irish Album of the Year award. His latest work ‘That golden time’ launched last month, is confidently predicted to follow suit.
However, O’Brien shows little concern for such external validations. Recently returned to Dublin from a promotional tour in Germany, a country which provokes him to “converse about Nietzsche, Schopenhauer and all their profound existential philosophers”. Places like The Netherlands, Belgium and Germany show a keen preference for Villagers’ music. There is a historical captivation with Irish music in Germany, which originated with bands like ‘Planxty’ and ‘The Dubliners’.
“I certainly am not replicating their music. However, I am quite particular when it comes to structuring my own compositions. This somehow resonates with the Villagers’ audience who appreciate the detailed crafting and the emotional satisfaction that my music delivers,” says O’Brien.
Terms like ‘obsession’ and ‘compulsion’ frequently find their way into his discourse. O’Brien admits that he goes beyond just being passionate about his work. His music is an obsession that demands a thoroughly carried out outcome. It almost consumes him entirely, causing discomfort at times when he feels he’s underperforming. Nevertheless, this fear serves as a motivation for him. He amends his statement saying, “Actually, it’s more like failing as much as you can. What the listener hears on a Villagers record is just the tip of the iceberg – a mere 10 percent of the entire work, with 90 percent discarded as unsatisfactory.”
By immersing himself in the process of creating music, he uncovers the mental workings within him, an exploration he admits to finding irresistible. On wondering whether his life may change if he wasn’t so obsessively focused, he is quick to point out that he would be reduced to a catastrophe. His aptitude lies outside most life skills, as evidenced by his admitted poor waitering abilities, a realization that came to him quite brutally. He queries if he could handle tyre change, humbly acknowledging a remarkable familiarity with the minimum legal tread depth of 1.6mm for tyres. He remarks boastfully, “I am quite skilled at driving”, while acknowledging that he is not particularly handy. However, beyond that, he is hesitant to confess more.
Eagerly, he reveals that his recent tour preparation, involving a show at Trinity College Dublin this month, has required him to revisit his earlier music. He notes, “We have held about 10 days of rehearsals in the past fortnight, where we are re-integrating aged songs from Villagers, dating back to the very first album, Becoming a Jackal.” He explains that through this process, he is re-establishing a connection with those old pieces that he hadn’t sung in years due to a lack of relatability. Now, he finds it interesting and even enjoyable to express them genuinely, suggesting a revival or ‘full-circle’ moment in his creative pursuits.
Discussing the previous two Villagers albums, ‘The Art of Pretending to Swim’ (2018), and ‘Fever Dreams’ (2021), O’Brien shares that his objective was to create music that could resonate in large venues. He explains his fascination with the flugelhorn, trumpet, and big-band music and his boredom with acoustic guitar, shifting focus to groovy library music along with cinematic soundscapes. However, he senses a narrative-driven keenness brewing within him for his new album, preferring a simplistic, bare approach to arrangements, which allows more clarity for the audience to delve into. He elaborates that a transparent music style enables the song and lyrics to shine through without any overshadowing by extraneous ‘bells and whistles.’
Does he believe that simplicity plays a critical role in engaging audiences? “I appreciate the beauty of succinct artistry. I relish the fact that someone has devoted substantial time to forge something clear yet which might also be layered with complexity and nuanced emotions, even within the framework of a three-minute pop track, thus maintaining a certain crispness I’m attracted to music that resounds on a simple, primal level but provides more depth to those who seek it. There is certainly more to unearth in ‘That Golden Time,’ with its hidden treasures tucked away in the song lyrics”, he adds.
O’Brien stresses that he doesn’t ponder excessively on these aspects. He is a songsmith, who relishes his craft, though he concedes that he writes as a means of self-discovery, among other things. “My writing mirrors my literary consumption, my experiences, the people I encounter and the philosophies I come across. For me, it acts as a shield, given the digital era we’re navigating, laden with pitfalls and forces of ill intent trying to manipulate you, inciting discord amongst communities.”
He touches on the disarray individuals subject themselves to by incessantly surrendering to the lure of digital media and its incessant stimulation. “We’re experiencing an arguably dark era, and I’ve found myself venturing into that murky grey commonality we all inhabit and scrutinise daily. The moment you share any viewpoint online, regardless of how virtuous or morally inclined it may be, it’s being executed on a gadget manufactured by child labourers in the Congo… We’re all implicated, and it’s through the medium of music and art that I find the means to explore the extent of my own complicity.”
O’Brien confesses that he’s naturally been more inclined towards solitude. He shares an anecdote about choosing to isolate himself from classmates, disregarding their appeals to join them in a game of football. O’Brien insists that his need for solitude is essential to his rejuvenation. Yet, paradoxically, he cherishes touring. He recognizes the contradiction in being an introvert who loves touring. “The discipline of being on tour does something to my psychology that I find beneficial,” he admits. Despite the constant company and social interactions, he relishes the routine, including the compulsory sound checks and other necessities. And every evening, there is that extraordinary moment of connecting with the art he spent years perfecting, which he admits thrills him and gives him a reason to live.
Nonetheless, O’Brien concedes that excessive touring could be staggeringly laborious. But he states he’s now comfortable with repeatedly transitioning from one country to another, from one concert to another, and various dressing rooms and hotels. He acknowledges past destructive behaviours but declares they have ceased. “I’ve stopped all that and it’s liberating. I derive pleasure from being present, from merely existing physically and knowing my position in the world,” he shares, evidently gratified with the change in pace. He mentions he is exploring alternate forms of euphoria but avoids offering specifics, reasoning that such topics could be mundane to discuss.
Transitioning to his youthful times when he denied himself the joy of playing football with his friends, he muses whether he ever thinks about his young self. He responds intriguingly. “Oddly enough, I believe that that child is your true self,” he expresses. “I perceive him as always being there within me.”
An Irish tour is scheduled in December with Villagers having a performance at Trinity College Dublin on Saturday, June 29th. Their album, That Golden Time, is available on Domino Records.