Paul O'Brien

By Robert Moyes It has taken two decades, two CD’s and the little matter of emigrating from England to Canada with his wife and family, but born-again musician Paul O’Brien is finally ready to step up to the microphone as a singer songwriter with something to say. The formal release party for his new recording, Plastic,takes place this month at The Metro. The CD represents, in part, an exploration into the meaning of identity in a multicultural world; the event itself, a true coming-out celebration, heralds the debut of an impressive talent. Born in the 1960s in Birmingham to Irish parents, O’Brien grew up in that city’s Irish ghetto and always considered his real home to be Ireland. “So many people had to leave Ireland, even though they didn’t want to,” explains O’Brien, his voice touched with emotion as he recalls the plight of those economic migrants from long ago. “There’s a huge Irish diaspora in Birmingham, so much so that they have the third largest St.Patrick’s Day Parade in the world,” O’Brien says. And we weren’t allowed to speak with an English accent,” he adds. “My mom used to clip us around the ears if we did.” As it turned out, this reluctant inheritor of something akin to dual citizenship was extremely musical – and there too he lead a double life. Initially immersed in the classical realm where he played French Horn, O’Brien soon got into folk music and even started writing his own songs. “England was giving me a classical music education, and on my own time I was exploring my Irish – Celtic roots,” he says. “It got to the point where I was performing a folk gig in the morning and then that afternoon, playing Mozart with the Birmingham Schools Symphony Orchestra.” O’Brien made it as far as first year university with his classical studies, then bailed out at the tender age of 19. With no second thoughts he started what would turn into a lucrative career as a folk musician. “I was so inspired by folk songs, especially those by Vin Garbutt,” say’s O’Brien. “Folk music could educate you or make you cry. It could make you a different person.” And while north of England Garbutt embodied the English folk influence on O’Brien, the Irish side of him was most stirred by The Fureys legendary Celtic performers. It wasn’t too many years before O’Brien found himself increasingly successful- and increasingly unhappy. “I had a family to raise so I opted for the route that would pay, and I ended up as a wedding singer and hated what I had become,” he confesses. “Playing cover versions of pop music was the antithesis of what I originally wanted. The more money I made the more I realized I wasn’t the musician I aspired to be.” Deeply unhappy with how things had turned out, O’Brien made a complete break with his earlier life in England by moving to Victoria in 2004, taking a position as a teacher at St.Andrew’s High School. “I was burnt out when I came here.” Admits O’Brien. “My wife Louise even had to persuade me to bring my guitar along.” Although O’Brien seemed done with music for good, he did an abrupt about face upon meeting Joby Baker a celebrated record producer who lives in Victoria. “Joby was the catalyst….going into his studio was like entering Aladdin’s cave,” recalls O’Brien with a huge smile. “He played me something he had produced and it was brilliantly recorded. It was an epiphany – I realized that I wanted to make a record that sounded like that.” Suddenly galvanized, O’Brien came home to his wife and declared: “I’ve got to make a record.” Reborn as a musician, he went to work on what developed into a densely layered but fairly traditional folk album called Sacred Lines, which came out in 2005. “I spent everything that we had saved on Lines, and it was essentially an apprenticeship,” explains O’Brien in his quiet but intense voice. “Joby’s guidance was amazing – it was like he’d pulled me out of a slumber.” Ironically, O’Brien was so exhausted by the time he’d finished the Cd that he couldn’t summon the energy to promote it properly. “I never took self promotion seriously, because when I was a musician in England I never really took myself seriously,” he shrugs. One person who does take O’Brien very seriously indeed is fellow singer-songwriter Anne Schaefer, who appears on both of O’Brien’s recordings. “Paul is a truly gifted folk musician, he’s a great guitarist and he’s got s gorgeous voice,” declares Schaefer, herself recognized as one of the best musicians in Victoria. She also points out that O’Brien has an unusually stable marriage and family life for a musician, which frees him up to tackle subjects other than personal angst. “Paul is very earnest and he can write about issues without ever coming across as overly-earnest,” she continues. “I just love playing with him and talking with him……he’s a stellar human being.” O’Brien took another big step two years ago when he realized he wasn’t really happy as a teacher. The emerging singer- songwriter felt music was his true calling, and he took a leave of absence from St.Andrews in 2007 to start a second collaboration with Baker. Just released Plastic is a more boundary-pushing effort than O’Brien’s first recording. In particular, the sound has more of a ‘band’ feel and less that of a “gentle folkie” enamoured of acoustic instruments. The lyrics, as before, are thoughtful and evocative. “It was coming to Canada that gave me something to say,” muses O’Brien. “When I was in England I had dual identities and they cancelled each other out. In Canada, they were able to be reconciled- I realized that I really was English and Irish.” What O’Brien refers to as his “dual cultureship” is explored with particular poignancy an the title track of the new album. ‘The name comes from the derogatory phrase ‘plastic paddy’, referring to someone who’s considered not ‘really’ to be Irish,” say’s O’Brien. “Well, I’ve realized that I’m stronger as second generation Irish and I’m reclaiming the word ‘plastic’,” he asserts. According to O’Brien he’s had people of various nationalities with a “hyphenated” background similar to his own come up to him and say how much they resonate with his notion of identity. “It’s something of a universal,” say’s O’Brien. And ultimately it’s really about how you perceive yourself, not how others perceive you.” Music has become quite the enterprise in the whole O’Brien household. Fourteen year old Millie sings on the current Cd and often performs with her Dad. She has also appeared in Victoria Operatic productions and in a student show at last year’s Fringe Festival. The two sons- 12 year old Cormac and Fintan a year younger – sing, play various instruments and write their own songs. “When they busk downtown they create quite a stir,” say’s O’Brien proudly. “The crowds gather the money flows… and they’re using the proceeds to pay off a Mac laptop that they record their music on.” Not surprisingly for a songwriter, O’Brien is articulate and a good storyteller – but as our interview progresses he goes deeper, proving to be one of the most measured, candid and thoughtful people I’ve ever talked with. Close your eyes at certain moments and you could almost be listening in on a confessional TV show; with eyes open, though, you’re looking at what seems to be an ordinary bloke whose squarish face and unremarkable features would be right at home talking soccer in any Dublin pub. So let’s call this songwriter a working class poet then, one with a knack for straightforward language held aloft by a sweet gift of melody. At the moment, O’Brien finds himself straddling two worlds; that of the singer-songwriter as well as a more prosaic existence as a workaday pub musician with regular gigs at places like The Irish Times. “At some point I’ll be phasing those gigs out,” declares O’Brien, “I dearly love playing Celtic music, but I need to step away from that because it clashes with my ambitions to write my own songs,” he explains, aware of the danger of repeating the same pattern that chased him out of England. “But these days everything is heading in the right direction,” he adds, a note of satisfaction in his voice. “I’ve got the albums, I’ve got the songs- now I just have to put the miles in and see to some serious self-promotion.”