Some heroes just seem destined to be unsung. Take Doctor (a.k.a. Sean) Millar. His 15 odd years of making records have not exactly been the stuff of chart domination, but the effect of his work has been felt keenly in many other circles. If ever the phrase ‘musician’s musician’ could be deemed appropriate it is surely in this particular case.

Having developed his reputation forming Dr Millar and The Cute Hoors, Sean Millar began his life as a solo artist in 1992. A debut album, The Bitter Lie, emerged three years later and was immediately hailed as a stone cold classic. Writing in hotpress, Niall Stokes described it as “wonderful, powerful, intimate and emotional” – a description that summed up Millar’s songs to perfection. Writing of the realities of Irish life with an uncanny eye for detail, Millar had the ability to convince listeners that his characters were real. A bit too real for some in fact – the album found itself unofficially banned by RTE due to the nature of its content. The Bitter Lie may have been denied the oxygen of regular airplay, but that didn’t stop it being noted, on a number of occasions, among the best Irish albums of all time.
Sean’s standing was never higher than amongst his fellow artists. When Dublin hosted the 1996 In The City music conference, one of the highlights was the Songs Of Dr Millar tribute night. North America too was taking notice, and the National Association of Songwriters invited him to play a series of shows across Canada and the US.
This was followed by his second solo album, 1997’s The Deal and another round of glowing reviews, which again emphasised the honesty and truthfulness of Millar’s vision, as he turned the raw material of ordinary peoples’ lives and experiences into the stuff of real dynamic substance.
And so it has continued. Millar is revered around the world by those who look for substance over hype and who appreciate artists who have worked at their craft. There was another album in 2002, Always Coming Home, and the growing support of a new wave of musicians, all of whom acknowledged the musical debt they owed him.
Nina Hynes, Jack L, Camille O’Sullivan and Joe Chester, amongst others, have all covered his songs live, a reminder that – although we may be overstocked with singer-songwriters these days – Millar was perhaps the first of the new Irish wave to make his mark.
A veritable Renaissance man, he also formed the music and comedy act the Kevin Gildeas, set up a hugely successful music project for young people in Dublin’s northside and presents a weekly radio show on East Coast Radio.
Yet it is always Millar’s songs that have represented him best and this year, for the first time, the cream of the crop have been gathered together on one album, Tarzan’s Ambition.
A collection of his best-loved material, plus a few surprises, the record serves as an introduction to a musician who should, by rights, be a household name. If he had emerged now, it’s hard to imagine that he wouldn’t be rubbing commercial shoulders with Rice, Hansard, Dempsey et al. Maybe, however, with the release of Tarzan’s Ambition, fans of those artists can be turned on to a man who truly is one of the great Irish songwriters.

FRIENDS AND FANS PAY TRIBUTE TO SEAN MILLAR

Tom Dunne
“Starting in radio and meeting Sean Millar are synonymous events in my life. I was just finding my feet at the time when he came in for an interview and played songs from The Bitter Lie. The result was that an audience more au fait with Enya than Slipknot were suddenly exposed to songs like ‘Alcohol Problem’ and ‘Saint Stephen’. They loved them, as did I.
I was particular taken with ‘Alcohol Problem’. The lyric “You’ve an alcohol problem, you’re putting on weight, but apart from that you’re looking great” struck me immediately for its dry wit and wry observation. It reminded me of many “aspiring songwriters” stumbling from lig to lig and bar to bar telling people they were “working on new material”. And ‘St. Stephen’ was better still. The son who doesn’t get the farm, isn’t big enough to be a Garda and isn’t bright enough to do much else gets ushered into the priesthood. Its strength was its humanity. He finds happiness in the end, but not as you’d expect.
Sean proved to be an even bigger delight than the songs. His stories of his days with The Cute Hoors struck a chord with me. Wanting to write songs and play gigs might seem like a simple pursuit but the path to it can be made quite torturous by managers, booking agents, record companies and even well-meaning friends. Sean seemed to have stories about every stage of the process, absurdities, wild schemes, insane plans, tales of magnificent incompetence, single launches at which there were no singles. Michael Moore couldn’t have invented it, but had he filmed it, the definitive ‘How Not to Make it in Music’ would have won many awards.
His music deserves a much wider audience. There are a lot of people out there who would really love his songs but who just don’t get enough chances to hear them, like two people who would fall madly in love if they could just meet each other! I think it might be time to advertise!”

Damien Dempsey
“Sean’s people are from the same place my Mother’s side are from, the Ivegh Trust Buildings in the Liberties. He went down the hard road of singing in his own accent, that took a lot of heat off me in the early days – thank God someone else was doing it. I remember him saying to me, “I’m like you, Damien, I’m trying to do something different”. He had an understanding of how hard it was to stand up there and do something alone – like a lamb to the slaughter some nights!
We weren’t deterred. I envy Sean his lyrics a lot of the time, he’s a brilliant writer and one of the best lyricists in the country. Songs like ‘Saint Stephen’, ‘You’re Grand’ and ‘Alcohol Problems’ – they’re all time classics. Everyone should have them in the house.
Keep her lit, Sean”

Damien Rice
“The first time I saw Dr. Millar was years ago in The Da Club, a small music venue that used to exist in Clarendon Market. I remember he came on stage and looked a little nervous. He fumbled a bit, said hi and then started to play.
It was amazing. He was so different to everyone else playing that night. His dark, honest lyrics. His terribly good melodies. So raw. And he sang so low. I remember trying to sing along under my breath to see if I could reach the notes!
He is someone who has made me think about music. I still love the songs ‘Happy Can Be’ and ‘Alcohol Problem’. I’m really looking forward to hearing the new record, which brings all of those songs together. It should be amazing.”

Joe Chester
“The first time I met Doctor Millar (I don’t often call him Sean, only to annoy him!), he was heaving a poxy Roland guitar amp across the Ha’penny bridge, on his way to sell it to some unfortunate. Even bedraggled, rivers of sweat running down his nose, and obviously stuck for beer money, I was still slightly in awe of him.
I knew his songs, and liked them, but it was more the sense of self-possession and real belief he had in his art that was pretty unusual then, and still is now. Lots of people acted the part, but here was the real thing. And it wasn’t pretty! Since then, I’ve been privileged to work with him on two of his records, and now I really love his songs.
Anyone who can write a song called ‘Feel Everything And Love Yourself’ has gotta be alright! But man, you should’ve held onto that amp! Those things are worth money now!”

Kevin Gildea
“At the heart of Sean Millar’s work is a gentle, tender compassion for the all the people who are left outside the warm fires of the way the world is built.
I first saw Dr. Millar in 1990 in the Béal Bocht and songs such as ‘20th Century Love’, ‘Jealous’, ‘Blue Chip’ and ‘The Deal’ still stretch out to me across the decade, their heartbreaking melodies aching like Miles’ lonesomest trumpet notes.
‘St. Stephen’, ‘Sympathy For David Icke’, ‘You’re Not Paranoid’ – beautiful portraits of outsiders evolving to celebrations of victory – the latter being one of the best comic songs ever written, dark and hilarious, it’s amoral waster hero hijacking our sympathies and so strangely inverting the warm certanties of the status quo.
There are so many other special songs I can only hope Sean will continue Always Coming Home – his work is a Changing Rooms for the soul. His songs call for the doors to be open because there’s room for all inside, and inside us all..

Tarzan’s Ambition:The Best of Sean Miller is out now.