Dubious O, Damien’s thralls.

Paddy G
Paddy G
Aug 28, 2017 · 2 min read

O was a mainstay of my formative teenage years. Recalled recently by a respected friend arguing it’s an album that harbours wonderment.

A singer-songwriter, Kildare native, piercing through a multifaceted industry where downloads, physical releases, gigging and music videos were all still viable channels to notoriety and success. An unabashed pride in seeing him do the US Late Night circuit and landing in Hollywood soundtracks.

15 years have passed since the release of it’s woven album sleeve. A paltry smattering of credible Irish albums of international renown in that time, it’s a case of unrequited what if’s and what’s next.

Lyrically, in parts, the melodrama is exorbitant; sickly & foolhardy. The rousing frontload lacks poise. It’s an impressive act for a debut but I can’t help the urge to hear it stripped down even further, at it’s basest, most self-aware; self-confident, primitive and unburdened.

More effective investigations emerge in the core and tail-end of the album. As in the relationship(s) depicted in Rice’s verse, the hardest lessons come toward the demise.

Speaking of which, it’s no coincidence that this is also the section of the album where Lisa Hannigan comes to the fore. Stoic, assured, remarkable. Even on record, she holds the listener at abated breath.

Older Chests, coyly astute, benefits from Damien being less insular, absorbed in a wider orbit of architecture and filial ties .

Some things in life may change
And some things
They stay the same

Like time
There’s always time
On my mind

Gonzo take Cheers Darlin’ is appreciated, and proceeded by the spectacle of Cold Water, the equal billing of I Remember, the pleasantly parochial Aimee and twee Eskimo signalling twilight.

What am I, darlin?
The boy you can fear?
Or your biggest mistake?

Ultimately, it’s the performance that triumphs throughout. Rice with the mystifying air of a single take on borrowed time, bed ridden, broken, guttural busker. A slew of corporate surrogates in a similar mould would follow in the decade to come, perfunctory and impotent in comparison.

There’s an exasperating dichotomy at play in this memorable arc of the Irish music scene. A marvellously potent performance marred by melodrama unchecked. A self-produced debut, nationally loved, internationally welcomed, but with no deserving follow up.

Maybe I don’t mind that it’s imperfect. Lacking in the subtlety and complexity that would demand and reward multiple listens, the challenge needed to foster wonderment (for me). O simply resides in the amicable annals, with indictments that can be forgiven. Laudable, loveable & lamentable.

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Paddy G

Written by

Paddy G

I review albums I like, with an over-reliance on ham-handed similes. (Profile: https://open.spotify.com/user/1147078117)

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