Laconic, with a dash of deadpan, War On Drugs leader Adam Granduciel is one of those people who can say things like "I am very excited" while sounding like the least excited person on the planet. Chatting to the singer and guitarist reminds you of hanging out with that sarcastic guy from school: you can't tell if he is speaking in earnestness or just flexing his sandpaper wit.

Still, whether or not the excitement he has just proclaimed is heartfelt, the 33-year-old Connecticut native has lots to be happy about. After years of thankless toil (to say nothing of a series of dead-end jobs) Granduciel's grand project is finally achieving lift-off: The War On Drugs’ new album, Lost In The Dream, has been proclaimed one of the year's outstanding rock records, a beautiful, eerie slab of Americana that reminds you of several beloved artists while casting a spell that is quite unique. Proof of its popularity is the upgrading of the group's Dublin show to Vicar St.
How tremendously ironic then that the breakthrough album should have been informed by a period of profound unhappiness. Coming off touring his previous LP, 2011's Slave Ambient, Granduciel found it difficult to readjust to life in the real world. He recalls turning the key to his apartment, staring at the empty room and wanting to shrivel up in a heap. He'd forgotten how to conduct himself like a normal person and it nearly tore him apart.
"I had toured for years and years," he says. "It wasn't so much that it made me happy. It was more a case that I'd forgotten how to look inwards. I got home and all of a sudden my mind was going to places it usually didn't travel to. Basically I had a new level of self-awareness and it started to freak me out."
He's at pains not to sound melodramatic. This was no dark night of the soul. He toured more than he should have, came home, felt a bit bummed. Yes, you can hear it on the record, if that's what you're searching for. But it should neither define The War On Drugs or your experience of Lost In The Dream. It's background noise.
"It was part of the inspiration for sure. However it never felt as if it was this 'big thing'. Depression never prevented me from working on the music. It didn't make me want to work on it any harder – or to give up on it. It was just there at the same time."
The War On Drugs’ debt to classic American songwriters such as Tom Petty and Bruce Springsteen is so obvious it feels redundant even pointing it out. Granted, Granduciel's writing transcends pastiche: the music merely reminds you of Petty and Springsteen, never apes them nakedly. Still, the comparisons are a matter of sensitivity for the frontman, eager to point out that he didn't grow up obsessed with Born In The USA or Into The Great Wide Open. He listened to the radio like everyone else – that's as far as it went.
"I guess I was aware of that music," he reflects. "Obviously I was exposed to it as a kid. I wasn't hung up on 'heritage rock'. I don't even think of Tom Petty in those terms. For me his best album was Wildflowers, and that came out in the '90s. He was making good music when people were talking about him as if he was a figure from the past.
"The one comparison I'm really flattered by is The Waterboys. Some of the other stuff I must admit I don't understand, but I do love The Waterboys.”
Granduciel is from Dover, Massachusetts. Though just 15 miles from Boston, he describes his upbringing as isolated in some ways. His parents did not listen to music, seemed generally unaware as to its existence even. At school, Granduciel was the one guy into grunge, hip hop and indie, the only person who had heard of Sonic Youth and Public Enemy. He eventually found his way to Philadelphia where he took up with fellow psychedelic practitioner Kurt Vile. For a time each played in the other’s band; they remain close, even as their popularity has led them to spend ever greater time away from Philly.
Success has afforded Granduciel the opportunity to pack in the day job or, more accurately, the succession of part-time positions he occupied between War On Drugs tours. The kind of guy who probably agonises over how many slices of toast to have for breakfast, for the singer even this apparently straightforward decision was fraught. If he stopped existing like a normal person, would he be able to communicate about everyday life through his songs ? He worried – still does if he's being honest.
"I liked the stability that comes with a job," he says. "If you work all day on music you don't have that. Initially giving it up felt weird. You have this spark where you're at work, looking forward to coming home to your music. It's a really precious thing. Having all the time in the world is strange – you're like a kid in a candy-store. You can have whatever you want and the choice is kind of crippling."

Lost In The Dream is out now. The War On Drugs play Vicar St., Dublin on May 29.