Album Review: Mick Flannery, Mick Flannery

This, Mick Flannery’s sixth album in twelve years, comes off the back of the recent hometown premiering of his stage musical Evening Train, based on his 2007 debut, in Cork. Over those six albums and countless live gigs, Flannery has been revered by thousands of fans as a deeply soulful, introspective performer and emotive lyricist – and pigeon-holed by others as a superb Tom Waits tribute act. But the begrudgers can bark up another tree: Flannery’s eponymously-titled new collection of 11 tracks offers evidence of him sloughing off any Waits-ian traits, his voice shifting upwards and out with an appealing lightness.

There’s a fresh sense of intent about the confessional opening track ‘Wasteland’, where flawed humanity meets serious ambition, with half-spoken lines, expansive choir and orchestral sweep all preset and correct. There’s a relaxing touch of Van The Man about the melodic ‘There Must Be More’, proving that Flannery isn’t all about the words. The plaintive ‘Come Find Me’ sees him daringly team with California twosome ESCQ to seamlessly merge contemporary pop with the Flannery we’ve known and loved, while the skittering ‘Fool’ shows that quality indie-pop is far from alien to him. There’s a sense of Mark Knopfler hovering around ‘Light A Fire’ and its downbeat tale of the rock’n’roll lifestyle – which can be partnered with the nostalgic dissection of mercurial, infectious fame on ‘Star To Star’.

The production and arrangements nudge and prod but never get in Flannery’s way. The self-titling may be telling. Mick Flannery may enjoy inventing characters, but one suspects that he is too self-effacing a man, and too moral a musician, to hide his innermost feelings under a bushel forever. That much of the material deals with the challenges of the music life suggests that the title really does say it all. We should be thankful that he has so generously revealed the many sides of his humanity.