Courage. Sure, whenever the word “brave” is attached to creative endeavours, you’re bound to get a bit of eye-rolling. Brave? Try working down a coal mine – but any artist worth their salt has to be honest. And opening up can be the hardest thing of all. Peter Wilson, aka Duke Special, spoke on this theme recently in Hot Press, while dismissing the old ‘tortured artist’ cliche. “The role of an artist is to be honest and that can be uncomfortable,” Wilson opined.
From a Belfast songsmith to a Dublin one, and Conor O’Brien is ready with Villagers’ third long-playing collection. He’s also ready for some bruised, beautiful honesty.
If 2013’s Choice Music Prize-winning [Awayland] was O’Brien looking at the world through the eyes of a child and channelling the playfulness that comes with that outlook into his sonic aesthetic, Darling Arithmetic is the artist, now in his thirties, analysing himself as a man. Turns out it’s something he could only achieve alone, retreating to his Malahide home to do so.
Put all writing, recording, producing and mixing down to Conor as he turns inwards and gets intimate. Throughout Darling Arithmetic, he sounds as if he’s right there in the room with you.
So the mid-tempo proceedings are led by plucked acoustic guitar figures, occasional piano twinkles, a little brushed rhythm where necessary and some Mellotron magic for ambience. The bracing dive into the electronic unknown of ‘The Waves’ is put on hold. The instant buoyancy of ‘Nothing Arrived’ (which accidentally recalled the piano line of REM’s ‘Electrolite’) is not matched by anything here in the singalong, radio-friendly stakes. Songs written from the perspective of a Roland keyboard or containing backwards donkey samples are replaced by pared-back, intimate portraits of where O’Brien is at right now with life and love.
Back to that word: the first single ‘Courage’ sets the stall out well. An alluring shuffle with an almost mantric set of lyrics, it finds serenity in the struggle. “It took a little time to be honest,” he confesses. “It took a little time to be me.”
‘Everything I Am Is Yours’ follows sweetly, with one of the record’s most memorable melodies and a tender lyric. A real knee weakener, its words of devotion, “in sickness and in health”, could see it soundtrack a first dance at a wedding... for those lucky enough to be able to have one. Last year, Villagers released ‘Occupy Your Mind’ to protest against Vladimir Putin’s treatment of the LGBT community in Russia.
Things get closer to home here. ‘Hot Scary Summer’ sets a relationship tale in a place where there are still “Pretty young homophobes, looking out for a fight.”
Throughout, O’Brien’s own struggles chime with the times and, getting direct, he sounds the death knoll for hatred on ‘Little Bigot’.
It’s a cosmic Lennon moment, where he opts to fight hatred with universal love, while still coming over fearless and ferocious. “Love is old, love is new, love is me, love is you...” From discordant unease in the beginning, it moves sonically to an angelic place in the second half.
‘No One To Blame’ drops the blame game, as the object of his affections causes him to drop the mask he’s been hiding behind. “And you’ll see me as I am,” he promises.
He wants his audience to see him too. On the title track near the centre of this nine song set, O’Brien invites us into his home as he mourns a loved one. It’s the simple, stark details that knock you for six: boxing up their clothes, clearing out their room, lying in their bed. That holds true across the record, as Vonnegut-influenced, wordy offerings are replaced by a conversational simplicity.
This is an important record for Conor O’Brien, personally and creatively. That doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s his most accessible work to date. Captivating lyrics abound, but the music doesn’t always stand as tall. He’s penned superb tunes that imprint themselves on your imagination in the past; occasionally here, as on the vaguely country ‘Hot Scary Summer’, the melodies feel elusive. Meanwhile, the meandering closer ‘So Naive’ is a stab at ‘beat poetry over atmospheric sounds’ that ends proceedings on a whisper.
As dispatches from O’Brien’s diary, this is a striking salvo. But it is the pure love songs, on which he lets unbridled joy fly, that will catch the public’s ear. Best of all is ‘Dawning On Me’, a soothing, hyptnotic gem that is indisputably one of the finest things he’s ever done.
“There’s a light coming through the window,” he swoons on what is a real heartbreaker, “But all I can see is the light of your love.”
The wide-eyed and worried kid that told us he was a dreamer, staring out windows, doesn’t want to settle for observing from afar any longer. He wants to share his room with someone special. He wants to go out into the light and the endless possibilities of the bright days to come.
Darling Arithmetic is a strong, unashamed step in the right direction.

Key Track - 'Dawning On Me'