Villagers, DC9, Washington DC

Villagers is the musical vehicle of Malahide, Dublin’s Conor J. O’Brien, and a successful one at that: how many young singer/songwriters do you know with a #1 debut album to their name? ‘Becoming a Jackal’ was just released in America and it’s nice to see an Irish folk album get some traction here, no doubt in large part to National Public Radio streaming the album prior to its stateside release. In fact, most punters at Monday night’s DC9 show responded ‘NPR!’ when O’Brien asked how they’d heard of him. The Washington date was just one of a small handful of dates down America’s East Coast, his first headlining tour of America.

There is a tentative start with ‘To Be Counted Upon Men’, O’Brien wearing a dark plaid shirt and black jeans, looking lonely on the DC9 stage that for any other band does not look as small. But tonight, it looks massive with only him standing on the well-worn wood. You certainly do not expect such a powerful voice from someone as shy as him. He apologises profusely that it will be him and him alone performing. He explains further that there are usually ‘several more handsome men’ supporting him, but limited funds prevented him from bringing the entire crew to America.

Then he launches into ‘Ship of Promises’, a more evocative number when played as a solo, and the absence of a backing band is quickly forgotten. O’Brien is far too bashful: his voice, full of expression and hitting some amazingly high notes, along with his dexterity on a small, precious-looking, converted acoustic-to-electric guitar are more than ample evidence of the young man’s talent. The venue isn’t full by any means but those who have come out to see O’Brien politely applaud every number. O’Brien is buoyed by this, becoming more comfortable, chatting with the audience between songs, proffering his extra drink tokens to audience members and joking with the bar staff that the glass of red wine he asked for was awfully small. This is quickly rectified by a bartendress who comes over to refill his glass, leading O’Brien to dedicate the next song, ‘this song is for the nice bar lady, cheers’. Bless.

In terms of knee-slapping, foot-stomping joy, the recorded version of ‘The Pact (I’ll Be Your Fever)’ can’t be beat. O’Brien playing the song solo changes things up, softening and smoothing the edges of the love song like an accomplished cutter handles a rough diamond. The result is a different-sounding but a simple, beautiful piece of music. Soft numbers like ’Twenty Seven Strangers’, a song explaining a broken-down bus as the reason for a delay to a rendezvous, and the fragile set-ender, ‘Home’, are endearing. Equally good is the more upbeat single ‘Becoming the Jackal’, O’Brien’s melodic voice carrying the song along. In the deft hands of O’Brien, this engaging material shines when performed in a stripped-down style, making you wonder why he even bothers with a band in the first place.