October 14th was another red letter day for The Coronas' Danny O'Reilly, Graham Knox and Conor Egan, as they celebrated Time Stopped becoming their third number one Irish album in a row.

Celebratory corks were popped as they were the month before, when the Dublin trio performed to one of the biggest crowds of the weekend at Electric Picnic.

The special guest that night was Danny's Ma Mary Black, who joined the chaps for a run through of her own Irish chart-topper, ‘A Woman’s Heart’, with a bit of ‘No Frontiers’ thrown in for good measure.

The lads, and Danny in particular, were the cause of mass hyper-ventilation among the female members of the Coronas Fan Club – who from our Stradbally vantage point vastly outnumbered the male ones.

Along with band duties, 2022 has also seen Mr. O’Reilly branching out into TV with a co-presenter gig alongside Erica Cody on The Main Stage, RTÉ’s very decent stab at a homegrown Later… which featured everyone from Rejjie Snow, Villagers and Lyra to Belters Only, Denise Chaila and Jafaris.

It’s a whole new level of fame, dare one say ‘celebrity’, for Danny – who’s always tried to live his offstage life as privately as possible.

Now he’s got nosey parker journalists like me asking him about love, family, male toxicity, republicanism, his A-list pals, those female fans… and anything else we can squeeze into the next ninety minutes or so.

Stuart Clark: Congratulations on the new album, which is an absolute belter. There are some really ambitious songs on it like ‘Write Your Own Soundtrack’ and ‘At Least We’ll Always Have LA’. Does it feel like a quantum jump?

Danny O’Reilly: We’ve definitely got better at production and building things sonically so, yeah, we’ve evolved. My first thought going into it was to ignore COVID, but when you’re writing about the things going on in your life that’s impossible. I had a kind of ‘eureka!’ moment where I thought, “Okay, these songs aren’t specifically about lockdown, but they are framed around it.” The lyrical references to lockdown are there but they’re quite subtle. Things really started to come together when I wrote ‘The Best Warrior’. In a way, it’s a typical Danny Coronas ballad, but there’s something that little bit different about it which got me really excited. I never try and write ‘the single’, but when myself and Cian McSweeney came up with ‘Strive’, I knew we had something we could take to radio, which is always a relief! Our sound engineer said to me the other day, “It’s your strongest record yet” and I think he’s right.

After twenty years, your Mum finally got to gate-crash a Coronas gig at EP – which must have been special and nerve-wracking in equal measure.

Very special! The nerves were mainly on the Thursday beforehand when she came into rehearsals. There was the pressure of knowing that, musician-wise, she’s used to playing with the best of the best. We spent all morning making sure we had the tempo right and everything, but you could tell she was loving it. As for the gig, it was the biggest crowd we’ve ever played to. The slot, the time… it was just perfect. It flew by in a wave of adrenaline and excitement. I saw a video of it last night and was blown away by it all over again!

I’ve heard that the likes of your Mum, her sister Frances, Clannad, Planxty, Moving Hearts and De Dannan were every bit as rock ‘n’ roll in the ‘70s and ‘80s as the rock ‘n’ rollers themselves.

I heard that too about her old days… Sorry, I don’t mean she’s old. I take that back!

What age were you when you realised what Mary did for a living – and that she wasn’t like your mates’ mums?

My older brother has a great story about coming out of primary school and saying to her, “Mum, you’re the only mother who wears leather jackets when you come to pick us up, can you stop?” I remember being in 4th or 5th class and the other kids saying, “Your mother is Mary Black.” We obviously grew up going to her gigs. We’d be running around backstage eating all the sweets and crisps on the rider. I knew pre-puberty that it was a big deal. Then, in my awkward, dismissive teenage years, I rebelled against folk and Irish music. I was like, “I don’t care about that stuff, I only want to listen to Oasis.” As I’ve gotten a bit older, I’ve a massive appreciation again for everything she’s done – particularly old stuff like ‘Anachie Gordon’ and ‘Song For Ireland’.

There must have been some really interesting people sat around the family dinner table.

I remember, at around four years of age, walking into the kitchen and finding this American woman who I’d never seen before standing there. She probably expected me to say, “Who the hell are you?” but instead I went, “What time is it?” That American woman was Nanci Griffith. The phone would ring and I’d pick it up and it was Paul Brady or Christy Moore. There are a few stories like that, but when Mam was home, her and dad made a conscious effort for it to be a very normal household. She’d go from doing three nights in the Opera House to making our lunches and doing the school runs – in her leather jacket! She always made an effort to be mammy, so it never seemed rock ‘n’ roll to me.

In a recent interview Mary talked about how heart-broken she was every time she had to say ‘goodbye’ and go out on your. How were you after the door closed?

I’d miss her when she was away without necessarily being able to put it into words. When she came back, we’d be like, “Ah, welcome home Ma!” She’d give us presents and for half-an-hour we’d be nice to her. Then we’d start being mean, saying “Who do you think you are coming back into our lives again after being away for however long?” She’d say, “How’s the football going?” and I’d be like, “Mom, don’t you know anything? Football finished last week!” We were punishing her for going away – even though it was usually only for two or three weeks, and we had my Dad there and my Granny and lots of other people helping out.

Sport has always been a big thing in your life, hasn’t it?

Yeah, I still play a little bit of Gaelic and golf when I can, although the weather’s starting to turn now. I scored two goals last Monday for my over-35 soccer team, Larkview. When I was 34, I was like, “I can’t wait ‘til next year and being the young guy on the team!”

Have you seen that other soon-to-be-35 footballer and soccer player, Séamus Coleman, recently?

He got us tickets to go and see Everton v Man U at Goodison Park in February. Everton were doing terribly at the time, but beat us 1-0 which was grim. We played at Séamus and his wife Rachael’s wedding way back and he’s so, so sound. The conversation when we meet is usually about GAA – he was centre half-back for Killybegs as a teenager and by all accounts a really good player.

My friend, Dawn, accused you of causing what she called ‘fanny flutters’ in the Picnic crowd. I can already see you blushing but you’ve definitely got that sex symbol thing going on. Do you feel like a heartthrob?

No, not really. One of the weird things about being a musician is that you do tend to be put up on a pedestal. I noticed that really early on when I was 15 or 16 and at Irish college. Week one, no girls would even talk to me. By the second week, word had spread that, “Oh, yer man’s Mary Black’s son” and suddenly a load of them were talking to me. From that point on, I was a bit sort of untrusting and like, “I’d rather they liked me for me.” And that carried on into the band. I’ve always been able to separate it from real life. They like me because they like The Coronas and I’m up on stage and I’m singing – great, it’s better than them thinking I’m an absolute idiot (laughs) but either way I try not to place any weight on it.

When did you start dating girls?

I was a late starter, definitely. I was shy with a mouthful of metal and freckles and not confident at all. So, yeah, I was probably like 18 or 19 and in sixth year when I started going on what you might call dates.

Like you I went to an all-boys school and regarded girls as people you might go out with rather than mates. Were you the same?

Now, thankfully, I’ve got lots of friends who are girls but, yeah, that wasn’t really a thing until I went to college. I was fortunate in that growing up I had such great female role models as my Mum and Auntie Frances. There was no way sexism or any kind of being unfair or prejudiced towards other people would have been tolerated. We’ve grown up around female success and independence. We might, as a family, have been liberal before our time.

What does the phrase ‘toxic masculinity’ mean to you?

At one end of the scale, it’s ignorant young men indulging in stupid bravado and at the other serious abuse and violence towards women. I think we’ve all been self-reflecting over the past few years. Like I say, we were brought up to always be aware of what other people might be going through. Sometimes, of course, you have no idea – which is when you listen to them and learn.

Are you angered by the disparity in radio airplay for female artists?

Yeah, it’s always hard for me to be impartial about it because as a kid I couldn’t turn on the radio without my Mom being on it. She was one of the few female artists that really broke through and had success with airplay, which is a major part of why she’s had such a successful career.

Where do you stand on the great pronoun debate?

There’s no debate; it’s just the respectful thing to do. If you asked me to call you anything in the world, I would. Like, that’s your name. I try to be sensitive to other people’s triggers and language they might find offensive. But also, I wouldn’t cancel someone if they made a mistake.

Is there a reason you don’t have a personal Twitter account?

Yeah, which goes back to the time I spoke about the government not opening up the arts industry after COVID. I went on Radio One and pointed out that there was football and hurling happening inside Croke Park. It got paraphrased and stuck in an article which made it sound like I was having a go at the GAA. It blew up on online and I spent I don’t know how long tweeting back to people, “That’s not what I said, I’m delighted the GAA is back open.” I was a ball of anxiety and thought, “I’m not doing that again!” It’s too easy to be picked up wrong.

Do you think that musicians give too much of themselves away these days on social media?

You want to be current and up to date with your fans but by letting people into your daily routine you’re destroying the mystique. If you look at somebody like Radiohead, they don’t give many interviews or Instagram what they’re having for dinner. I suspect there are a lot of current bands with a big social media presence who are thinking, “Yeah, that’s what I’d rather do” – but they can’t because management and the record company are telling them they need to be out there every day getting likes.

Talking of the government, will you be voting Sinn Féin in 2024 to get rid of the present one?

I’m not sure. I don’t know if I’ll vote Sinn Féin, but I do consider myself a republican.

Is it something that was talked about at home when you were growing up?

No, ours wasn’t a particularly political household. Somebody might have made a crack about, “Oh, we won’t go there, there’s too many British people around” or said something about “Four hundred years of oppression”.

Eight hundred.

(Laughs) Sorry, yeah, eight hundred! But, no, we never got too deeply into it.

Would you consider things like homelessness and the state of the Irish health system to be modern day obscenities?

Yes, absolute obscenities is right. I care about it and I want it to be improved, but I haven’t got the answers and don’t want to put myself out there as someone who does.

Were you ever tempted to write a political song?

No, I’m drawn to Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours as opposed to Bob Dylan giving out about the man. I’ve always had this thing of, “Who cares what I think? Who cares what religion I am or what my social views are? Do I want to get involved in that?” So I always try and keep that sort of stuff a bit separate. Instead of going, “This is fucked” I’d rather write about me trying to be the best person I can be or…

… being in love, which is a recurring theme in Coronas songs. I’m not going to ask you who with, but are you in love at the moment?

I’m… well, er, I suppose… no.

You had to think about that…

I’m going through a little bit of a tough time, just the personal side of things, but that’s life.

The recording/promo/touring/even more touring treadmill isn’t the best thing to be stuck on if you’re trying to maintain a relationship. Has The Coronas’ success come at a price to your private life?

It is difficult… well, for me it is! Conor and Knoxy are amazing examples. They’ve been with their girlfriends since before the band, are both married and have children. They’ve found the perfect balance. I’ve always put the band first and you have to find somebody who’s okay with that. I’ve never had an other half who’s tried to hold me back or stand in my way, but it’s not easy. I wouldn’t change anything, though.

Do you want kids?

Yeah, I think so. One day for sure. I do have moments, though, when I’m like, “God, I don’t know, do I want to bring children into this world with climate change, the war in Ukraine and all the other shit that’s going on?”

A psychotherapist friend of mine was telling me that the number one reason for teenagers seeking counselling at the moment is environmental concerns. There’s nothing wrong with their relationships or self-esteem – they’re just fucking scared out of their skins that they’re going to fry to death.

It’s not as gradual as people think. We saw with COVID – which may or may not have been manmade – how things can just change overnight. Suddenly you’re living in a bad sci-fi disaster movie that you can’t get out of. I’m an optimist by nature but you can’t help thinking, “What the fuck’s coming next?”

What was the first band that you claimed as your own?

The Cranberries were a big one: Everybody Else Is Doing It, So Why Can’t We? was the first album I bought. I remember seeing them in The Point and singing along to every song. The first gig I went to – other than my Ma’s – was Slane when I was ten. I was up the hill watching R.E.M. and Oasis thinking, “This is great!”

So you didn’t have to look the words up when you sang ‘Linger’ as part of your lockdown series of YouTube covers?

Only a few of them! I’m lucky enough to know Noel Hogan. He’s an absolute sweetheart and I got to do a bit of writing with him. Then that Songs From An Empty Room concert came up in the Olympia: we did an acoustic version of ‘Linger’ together with a little orchestra. It was great! Then, at one of our first post-lockdown gigs in Limerick, we got him to come up and do it with us, which was a real moment.

I will forever find it mind-blowing that ‘Linger’ is the first song Dolores ever wrote.

It’s crazy. When we did Songs From An Empty Room, I got to hang out with Noel backstage for three hours and all I did was ask him for Cranberries stories.

How does ‘Linger’ compare to the first song you wrote?

(Laughs) There is absolutely no comparison! It was called ‘Wonder’ and it was so, so bad. I was 14 and even though I’d never touched a drink, I wrote it from the perspective of an alcoholic. I was like, “It’s going to be so deep!” It was actually one horrible cliché after another – “I wake up every morning and wonder where my dreams have gone”, that sort of thing – but it got me started.

Another celebrity pal you knocked around with when you were living in London was Niall Horan. Did you get a sense of the sheer madness that comes with being that famous?

Definitely. I saw it and it wasn’t something I envied. Everywhere he went there were people doing double-takes and/or coming up to him for autographs and selfies. One of the few places we could go where he didn’t get bothered was Camden. But Niall, I have to say, is just a really great person. If I’m out with friends and a couple of people are looking over, I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m not really present in the conversation whereas somehow he manages not to be distracted by it.

Who’s the most charismatic person you’ve met?

When Bono walks into a room there’s just an aura about him. Even if you didn’t know U2, you’d look across. There’s just that change of atmosphere.

Were you were ever treated to one of Bono’s famous life and the rock ‘n’ roll universe chats?

No, but U2 made such an effort with us. Their humility blew my mind. The Coronas had a day-off in Glasgow at the same time as they were playing the enormous SSE Arena there. We sent a message to our lawyer who knows someone in the U2 camp asking if there was any way we could get hold of tickets. Almost immediately word came back that, “You’re on the guest-list.” We were like, “Amazing, we get to see the show!” We didn’t realise that when we got to the venue, we’d be brought backstage, put into a little dressing-room and have all four members of U2 come and greet us. It was mind-blowing the lovely things Bono said about my Mam. Another time, I’m standing watching them in this little area they had at the 3Arena for all the bands on the guestlist. We’d just done a U2 cover for a charity album and this random person hands me a note from Bono saying, “To Danny, thanks a million, enjoy the show.” I was like, “What the hell?”

You also had a “pinch me am I dreaming?” Macca moment.

Yeah, we opened for Paul McCartney in the RDS in 2010. It was gobsmacking watching him shout out a random Beatles song – ‘Penny Lane’ or whatever – that wasn’t on the setlist and his band would just play it perfectly.

What’s your favourite Beatles album?

Used to be Revolver, then it was Sgt. Peppers, now it’s Abbey Road. They’re all immaculate. Macca asked us, “Who’s your bass-player?” and when we pointed out Knoxy, he said to him, “Don’t break up the band!” He’s probably said it to a million bass-players but it was still funny.

The reason you moved to London in 2013 was because you’d just signed a major deal with Island Records there. Despite a lot of time, effort and money being pumped into the album you made for them, The Long Way, it failed to achieve international lift-off. What went wrong?

When we signed, they said to us, “We have bands like Bombay Bicycle Club who aren’t on BBC Radio One everyday but have a following they’ve built up through playing colleges and stuff.” We thought, “Yeah, sounds good” – but when The Long Way came out and didn’t get national airplay they got spooked. I hate to say this about labels, but it was the usual thing where they sign ten bands in the hope that one connects. I think Island’s attitude was: “They’ve had hits in Ireland, let’s take a punt on them doing the same here.” Getting dropped definitely knocked my confidence. After coming back from London I got writer’s block, which wasn’t nice, but that passed and when I listen to The Long Way now it’s with a sense of pride because it’s a good album.

Dave McPhillips left the band in 2016, partly as a result of your Island deal going sour. Did that feel like losing a limb?

Yeah, especially initially. Dave came to us one day and said, “It’s not fair on you guys – or me – to keep going when I’m not enjoying it. I’m not happy and I don’t want to be a negative influence.” He could have just shown up, done the bare minimum and kept taking his share of the money but instead he was very brave and very noble – which is Dave all over. I’m not going to lie: I thought it was the beginning of the end, really.

Is he still making music?

He doesn’t live too far from me and is writing away and playing with different people, yeah. I think there are moments when he probably misses the band, but he knows it was the right decision. He’s mainly teaching and loving it. We get along great still.

It’s not a line I thought I’d ever utter, but Irish trad has gone hipster with Rough Trade and its River Lea imprint signing up a job lot of our finest young folkies.

When Mumford & Sons first came out with their English folk mashed with pop, I thought, “Someone needs to do this with Irish music.” The Coronas had a go on Closer To You with a song called ‘My God’, which is basically a Mumford rip-off. It took longer than I thought, but it’s really happening here now. I love Ye Vagabonds; The Scratch blow my mind; and Cormac Begley’s album is outstanding too.

I know you don’t look at Twitter, but if you did you’d have seen lots of nice things being said about The Main Stage.

We did six episodes with four artists each week, and could easily have done another ten from the initial long-list. The likes of Damo Dempsey and Mick Flannery were as great as they always are, but what really stood out for me was the quality of the new acts. Tolü Makay was one of the highlights of the whole series and Denise Chaila and the Narolane crew blew my mind. I’m not a massive rap fan, but I’d pay to see her, God Knows and MuRli any night of the week. It was just a great thing to be involved in.

Finally, on a scale of one to ten, how happy is Danny O’Reilly right now?

Right now, I’m rocking about seven or eight. The band is amazing. I’m proud of our longevity and the fact that we still love it. I’m looking forward to being on the sleeper bus and waking up in a new city every morning. We’re blessed.

• Time Stopped is out now. The Coronas play Ulster Hall, Belfast (December 4); 3Olympia Theatre, Dublin (14–18); INEC Arena, Killarney (28); and Fairview Park, Dublin (June 17). See their full list of upcoming dates here.