Brian McFadden: When Irish eyes are smiling

It’s almost 1am and minus four degrees in Glasgow, and Brian McFadden is standing outside a pub, glass of wine in hand, relaying his next career move to become the antithesis of everything he’s ever been.

“I did it with Just Say So and a couple of songs over the past few years, they’ve not been my best work but they’d been tailored to fit a radio programmer’s brief. I’m not doing that anymore. I wanna make songs that I’m proud of, that don’t fit into any kind of template.”

After an almost two-decade career which saw him recover from a boy band stint (sans publicised drug abuse), come out on top of a plethora of tabloid-making relationships, moonlight as a shock jock and talent show judge in Melbourne, and record three solo albums, McFadden wants to quietly ease away from the limelight.

“This is kind of hard for me to say but I started making my most successful music in Australia on radio, but by far my least quality work,” says the 33-year-old, “they’re the weakest and poorest songs.”

Although he’s just finished his support tour with ex-Westlife manager and regular collaborator Ronan Keating, McFadden realistically could be touring his own album at this point; it’s been a work in progress for over a year now but riding on his Irish ally’s coattails was a conscious step outside his commercially-influenced mentality. This month, McFadden will release his digression: The Irish Connection, a covers compilation featuring many of the artists he pays homage to.

“This project was so quick, it’s not like an album where you end up releasing three singles and it can last up to a year, this kind of project you don’t even put out a single,” he explains. “It was good for me to steer away from writing, kind of concentrate of the production and the performing of songs.”

The Irish Connection is McFadden’s revolt, despite the fact it features tracks by Snow Patrol, The Cranberries and Damien Rice, and duets with Sinead O’Connor, Aslan’s Christy Dignam and of course, Keating, the album is an anti-hit, it hasn’t got a chance at commercial airplay, but that was precisely the point.

“The last few years I’d be writing songs and the first question I’d ask is ‘would radio play it?’ and that’s a stupid way to look at things. So I think doing this covers album where the #1 rule was that it was never going to be about radio, it was just about making a record. I don’t have to worry if radio stations are going to play it or not.”

Finding collaborators was somewhat of a cakewalk for McFadden, the track with Keating (U2’s All I Want Is You) was arranged via text (“I sang on your last album, you’re singing on mine”), and his duet with O’Conner on traditional folk song Black Is The Colour, was arranged via email. “I just sent her the song, I didn’t really have to try, I just sent the song to the people that are on it,” he says lightly, “and they all came back straight away.”

Following each of the ten tracks’ recording, it didn’t even cross McFadden’s mind to approach the original artists for their input; not even O’Connor has heard his version of Nothing Compares 2 U. 

“I wouldn’t give a shite,” he laughs. “I’m not into that, kind of, when people get too critical about their art. I think a song’s a song, I did my own version and I wasn’t trying to justify it to anybody else.

“She hasn’t heard it yet. She came into the studio and she goes, ‘Did you do Nothing Compares 2 U?’ and I go, ‘Yeah but I haven’t got it here.’ I wouldn’t play it to her. She can buy the album like everyone else!

His duet with O’Connor is arguably his most important yet, as McFadden tells it, the courageous Dubliner was generous during their time in the studio.

“She was almost teaching me the whole time and giving me tips, you know, even though I’ve been doing this for nearly twenty years, I’m still learning everyday,” he says, “and someone like her, she’s one of the most amazing singers on the planet, she has the most incredible voice… It’s a machine in itself.”

At 33-years-old, McFadden has come to a very crucial fork in the road; he’s been both in the wings and the hot fog of commercial limelight, and his recent shift of ambition, helmed with the recording of The Irish Connection, has put him in a very unique place.

“I found a comfort zone in making this album,” he says. “I’m starting to see more the direction I want to go and develop a more adult sound. I think Wall Of Soundz (2010) was a huge departure from my first two solo albums. I think I may have steered a bit too far away from where I actually sit.

“I probably tried to make a radio record rather than make a record for me. This covers album has given me direction again for where I want my sound to be. Sounds a bit wankery,” he laughs, repaying his words. “I hate people that talk about their art and their direction.”

While his first collection of originals since Wall Of Soundz won’t be finished until late this year, McFadden seems phlegmatic about the effects his decision will have on an Australian chart placing. Perhaps it’s the Irish blood that keeps his thoughts nonplussed, but it’s more likely the thought of making music on his terms.

“If people like it they’ll buy it, if they don’t at least I know I gave my best effort on it,” he says bluntly. “I’m not even considering about 2Day FM or Nova; how are people going to hear it is the next problem, but that’s for the record company to figure out.”