Dún Laoghaire native and two-time Ivor Novello winner Conor O’Brien provides a unique and rare glimpse into his 16 years, nine albums and over 80 songs as sui generis act Villagers in his new book, Passing A Message.
“It was a lot more work than I was expecting,” he admits, before rising to fetch a freshly boiled pot of coffee in his Dublin apartment. “I was right in the thick of making the last Villagers album, and I thought to myself, ‘Great, I’ll do this little thing on the side and it’ll be all easy and lovely’. It ended up being just as much work as the record – it was like making two albums at the same time.”
It’s a neat companion piece to O’Brien’s hitherto fruitful musical career, consisting of a candid series of photographs, artworks and rough-work scribbles from the songwriter’s own notes and journals. Was there any apprehension in showing the world the more intimate creative aspect of his job?

Passing A Message book

“I was mostly warts-and-all, I tend to feel the more successful pieces of art that I make are the ones that feel quite naked,” he says. “There’s a song on the new record which I had to be convinced by a friend to put on, because I didn’t feel it was fit for public consumption. Then I realised that was the true power of the song. I felt similar about this book. The interesting pages for me are the ones that feel raw.

Passing A Message book

“I was reading Bob Dylan’s Philosophy Of Songs while making this, and I loved how he didn’t take any of it seriously. It was like an 11-year-old child in the way he talked about his favourite songs, which was really inspiring to me. It made me realise that I don’t have to be so precious, which I can be sometimes.”

Conor O'Brien from Villagers. Copyright Miguel Ruiz.

With some of the content spanning back to O’Brien’s fresh-faced days in the mid ‘00s, the undertaking of Passing A Message has understandably evoked a lot of nostalgia.
“There were lots of emotions, I was a completely different person when I wrote those earlier songs,” he says. “It’s one thing to perform those songs, but it’s another to leaf through the notes that were connected to them and think back to where you were in life. I cringe a little bit, but it’s not embarrassing because everything was authentically written at the time.
“When you start out in your twenties, there’s this feeling that you’re going to put the world right with your music. You have this kind of gung-ho approach and believe that everything will fall at your feet. Then life gives you a few knocks and you get cut down to size, but you use that energy as well, so I found it all really cathartic.” Paired alongside the lyrics is a gallery of album covers and colourful, Villagers-adjacent art and sketches. Does O’Brien have a favourite?
“They’re all so different, it’s like choosing your favourite child or something,” he laughs. “My buddy Dave Hedderman did the cover of the third album Darling Arithmetic, and what I love about that is it’s not as precious as the other ones. It’s painterly and sketchy, and it suits the mood of that album perfectly – because it sounds quite sparse in places, like the sound of loose paintbrushes being thrown across a canvas.”

“I’m from Dún Laoghaire. I don’t think I could survive too far away from the sea.”

Photography also plays a central role in Passing A Message, with plenty of snaps capturing O’Brien gallivanting in and around the various music-dedicated haunts of his hometown. He reflects on the venues and spots, both large and small, which played an important role in his career.

Villagers at Vicar Street, 28th of January 2016

“It’s just such a different landscape now,” he says. “There was no social media and we would just turn up at Eamonn Doran’s in Temple Bar. Bands could just show up there on Saturday mornings and they would let you onstage and play. I have a lot of emotions about the Button Factory. We used to rehearse downstairs, before playing slightly bigger gigs there.
“We’ve done so many great shows in Vicar Street in the last few years, and it’ll be nice to get back to the Olympia too, it’s got its own particular vibe. The last time I was there, Paul Weller invited me up to sing ‘Carnation’ with him, and that was magic, because that’s my favourite Jam song.”
They’re venues which contribute to the extraordinary cultural tapestry of the city, one woven by artists across all disciplines.
“It was only really in my thirties that I started realising what an amazing place I’m from culturally,” O’Brien says. “I definitely took that for granted growing up. Once you travel and you’re talking to people in other countries, you see that music and literature run through the veins of this city.

Dún Laoghaire Pier

“There’s so many amazing writers. I’m really digging Claire Keegan at the moment. I read Anne Enright’s The Gathering last year and saw her on Dún Laoghaire Pier and absolutely freaked her out. I was like, ‘Oh, my God, I just read your book!’”
The authors in question are acclaimed for acutely representing and portraying Irish experiences in their work. Does O’Brien find himself being similarly influenced by his surroundings?
“It shows up in slightly more abstract ways” he says. “I’m from Dún Laoghaire. I don’t think I could survive too far away from the sea. I have this thing about growing up in a seaside town – it’s on the periphery of things, but also close to the source of everything. In the last few years, I’ve gotten way more into trying to go up the mountains a bit more, and jump in the sea a bit more.

Spin Dizzy Records

“I’ve realised how amazing it is to be in a city that’s so close to all those things. I just float about really; I was in Spindizzy recently for a friend’s in-store show. I love that area of Dublin – George’s Street and all the buildings around the arcade. It’s so beautiful, especially if you’re up early in the morning and wandering around. So all that probably shows up in the songwriting, but it’s not like I’m writing about Eustace Street, or the bus stop.”

• Passing A Message is out now.

• Featured in Hot Press "Best of Dublin" available down below