I thought I saw this on tv after the great bard died : Heaney gets off a plane in Dublin after winning the Nobel Prize and is immediately greeted by a young man who looks uncannily like Conor O'Brien of Villagers.
Of course, I could well be wrong, but I'd like to think that in Ireland - where poetry and song have long been close siblings - this did happen.
Because I believe that something fresh and thrilling is occurring with the emergence of this Irish band.
Sure, in the last decade or so there have been many singer-songwriters who deserve to be widely listened to like Karine Polwart and Thea Gilmore, yet there has been a distinct dearth of groups able to combine poetic lyrics with melodic, challenging music.
I've searched for the influences on Villagers and you could find them in many of the masters, including Leonard Cohen, Paul Simon and Sufjan Stevens.
In their native land, their lack of 'Irishness' has been commented upon, yet O'Brien (the undeniable front-man) never succumbs to a Trans-Atlantic drawl suggesting he's from Dun Laoghaire, somewhere south of Louisiana.
There songs aren't place specific, though they often use sea imagery in the second album. They are about as far from the Americana cliches of the Mumfords as Polwart is from Laura Marling's attempts at being the new Joni Mitchell.
It's been interesting just spreading the word about them. When I texted a friend with just ..... (awayland) Villagers
.....he thought I was bored and would be saying 'Mister Moon is in the building' next ! Now I've explained, he's as enthusiastic a fan as I am.
Another just started doing the YMCA dance in complete misapprehension!
Conor O'Brien is to Villagers what Guy Garvey is to Elbow : both unique singers and original songwriters. Yet, like Elbow, they're very much a group not back-ups to a solo performer.
Their first album 'Becoming a Jackal' is far more personal and shows its influences more readily, yet was deservedly short-listed for a Mercury Prize and the second '(awayland)' is also on the short-list. It would be good if the judges got it right for once and awarded it to them.
Contrary to rock mythology about '2nd album syndrome', the latter is actually an improvement.
Music and Dun Laoghaire both need a boost right now. The latter because - according to a long-time resident I spoke to last weekend - it's more depressed than ever, with a high street full of charity shops (sounds familiar!).
Music, because there really are so few bands to match them lyrically and musically : they are increasingly inventive and diverse in style.
The first song I heard was 'The Waves' from the second album, played at Glastonbury this year and the televised highlight of the whole festival. It is even better live than on the recording.
It is a mounting crescendo, as the sea gathers force and becomes more and more threatening, till it breaks down at the end with the repeated refrain of 'approaching the shore'. It reminds me of John Cale's incredible version of 'Heartbreak Hotel' and its screaming finale.
The words throughout move deftly from viewpoint to viewpoint, a rarity in poetry never mind rock, and at one stage take the persona of a bland character who refuses to accept the environmental damage we are inflicting upon our world and the doom of 'honey-bee cemeteries'. O'Brien rarely makes a generalised statement, yet when he does it is telling - 'One man's innocence, is another's chance'.
It's a song which embraces the vitality of the waves (of both sea and sky), yet ultimately acknowledges that the sea is a symbol of ecological abuse and a portent of disaster.
In total contrast is the optimism of the opening song 'My Lighthouse', a sparse and simple love-song which employs that sea imagery effectively and without a hint of pretension.
O'Brien's voice on this is closer to the Sufjan of 'Seven Swans' and it shows how the albums are never over-produced: music matching lyrics like two voices in harmony.
Many of the songs can be deceptive and none more so than 'In A New-Found Land You Are Free'. What initially appears to be a song about a new-born child and its discovery of life takes a very different , darker turn, and yet still manages to be optimistic in its sense of freedom ( a release from pain maybe?).
I love the vigour and verve of 'Earthly Pleasures' and 'Judgement Call', both knowing fully the strength of a chorus. O'Brien implies criticisms of organised religion and inequalities in society, but always in a subtle , angled way and never heavy-handedly.
Guitars are used sparingly and layered keyboards often feature, like the sediments exposed on cliff-lines. Piano is like the sun reflecting off shiny rock surfaces.
I admire Villagers because they defy all categories : they aren't a clunking guitar band, or nu-folk, yet can master tunes and words very much like Becker and Fagen in the early days of Steely Dan.
The last laugh goes to the donkey at the end of the final track 'Rhythm Composer', only going to show their unique combination of wit and melancholy.
To misquote them ( from 'Nothing Arrived') - 'I waited for nothing, but something arrived.'
That something is a band who could change the face of music : sons of Heaney, their country and the sea and , beyond that, of visions and dreams.
A CALLING
I have a vision of him landing
(still don't know if I've seen it
on film or in my imagination),
greeted in his homeland airport
and the first hug from a young man.
Not a baton or some grand torch
passed on, but what would it be?
A branch of rowan maybe,
bright orange berries, leaves green,
a perfect perch for a calling.
To be nurtured, carried, held firm
like the neck of a guitar, slim bow
or the wooden rim of a bodhran ;
as words and music migrate
yet always sing of home.
Of course, I could well be wrong, but I'd like to think that in Ireland - where poetry and song have long been close siblings - this did happen.
Because I believe that something fresh and thrilling is occurring with the emergence of this Irish band.
Sure, in the last decade or so there have been many singer-songwriters who deserve to be widely listened to like Karine Polwart and Thea Gilmore, yet there has been a distinct dearth of groups able to combine poetic lyrics with melodic, challenging music.
I've searched for the influences on Villagers and you could find them in many of the masters, including Leonard Cohen, Paul Simon and Sufjan Stevens.
In their native land, their lack of 'Irishness' has been commented upon, yet O'Brien (the undeniable front-man) never succumbs to a Trans-Atlantic drawl suggesting he's from Dun Laoghaire, somewhere south of Louisiana.
There songs aren't place specific, though they often use sea imagery in the second album. They are about as far from the Americana cliches of the Mumfords as Polwart is from Laura Marling's attempts at being the new Joni Mitchell.
It's been interesting just spreading the word about them. When I texted a friend with just ..... (awayland) Villagers
.....he thought I was bored and would be saying 'Mister Moon is in the building' next ! Now I've explained, he's as enthusiastic a fan as I am.
Another just started doing the YMCA dance in complete misapprehension!
Conor O'Brien is to Villagers what Guy Garvey is to Elbow : both unique singers and original songwriters. Yet, like Elbow, they're very much a group not back-ups to a solo performer.
Their first album 'Becoming a Jackal' is far more personal and shows its influences more readily, yet was deservedly short-listed for a Mercury Prize and the second '(awayland)' is also on the short-list. It would be good if the judges got it right for once and awarded it to them.
Contrary to rock mythology about '2nd album syndrome', the latter is actually an improvement.
Music and Dun Laoghaire both need a boost right now. The latter because - according to a long-time resident I spoke to last weekend - it's more depressed than ever, with a high street full of charity shops (sounds familiar!).
Music, because there really are so few bands to match them lyrically and musically : they are increasingly inventive and diverse in style.
The first song I heard was 'The Waves' from the second album, played at Glastonbury this year and the televised highlight of the whole festival. It is even better live than on the recording.
It is a mounting crescendo, as the sea gathers force and becomes more and more threatening, till it breaks down at the end with the repeated refrain of 'approaching the shore'. It reminds me of John Cale's incredible version of 'Heartbreak Hotel' and its screaming finale.
The words throughout move deftly from viewpoint to viewpoint, a rarity in poetry never mind rock, and at one stage take the persona of a bland character who refuses to accept the environmental damage we are inflicting upon our world and the doom of 'honey-bee cemeteries'. O'Brien rarely makes a generalised statement, yet when he does it is telling - 'One man's innocence, is another's chance'.
It's a song which embraces the vitality of the waves (of both sea and sky), yet ultimately acknowledges that the sea is a symbol of ecological abuse and a portent of disaster.
In total contrast is the optimism of the opening song 'My Lighthouse', a sparse and simple love-song which employs that sea imagery effectively and without a hint of pretension.
O'Brien's voice on this is closer to the Sufjan of 'Seven Swans' and it shows how the albums are never over-produced: music matching lyrics like two voices in harmony.
Many of the songs can be deceptive and none more so than 'In A New-Found Land You Are Free'. What initially appears to be a song about a new-born child and its discovery of life takes a very different , darker turn, and yet still manages to be optimistic in its sense of freedom ( a release from pain maybe?).
I love the vigour and verve of 'Earthly Pleasures' and 'Judgement Call', both knowing fully the strength of a chorus. O'Brien implies criticisms of organised religion and inequalities in society, but always in a subtle , angled way and never heavy-handedly.
Guitars are used sparingly and layered keyboards often feature, like the sediments exposed on cliff-lines. Piano is like the sun reflecting off shiny rock surfaces.
I admire Villagers because they defy all categories : they aren't a clunking guitar band, or nu-folk, yet can master tunes and words very much like Becker and Fagen in the early days of Steely Dan.
The last laugh goes to the donkey at the end of the final track 'Rhythm Composer', only going to show their unique combination of wit and melancholy.
To misquote them ( from 'Nothing Arrived') - 'I waited for nothing, but something arrived.'
That something is a band who could change the face of music : sons of Heaney, their country and the sea and , beyond that, of visions and dreams.
A CALLING
I have a vision of him landing
(still don't know if I've seen it
on film or in my imagination),
greeted in his homeland airport
and the first hug from a young man.
Not a baton or some grand torch
passed on, but what would it be?
A branch of rowan maybe,
bright orange berries, leaves green,
a perfect perch for a calling.
To be nurtured, carried, held firm
like the neck of a guitar, slim bow
or the wooden rim of a bodhran ;
as words and music migrate
yet always sing of home.
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