Hazy dreamscapes from Deia, Mallorca beckon the return and revitalisation of Fionn Regan.

Release Date: 1st November 2024

Label: Nettwerk

Format: CD / Vinyl / Digital

Remember the name?

It’s been sorta Fionn Regan quiet for a few years, it coming as a surprise to find it only five years since his last record. I guess this is the problem when your breakthrough, The End Of History, in 2006, gets you cited as “his generation’s answer to Bob Dylan”, which was no less than Lucinda Williams’ opinion. It is fair to say it has been a struggle for the Irishman to maintain that high bar, with subsequent releases drifting gradually into anodyne swirls of beauty, if short on actual lasting content. His 2017 electronica tinged The Meetings Of The Waters, in 2017, tried to buck that trend, and, to an extent, it did, but Cala, in 2019, saw him then stripping everything right back, leaving little other than the meanderings of his delicate voice.

So what’s new?

Thankfully, not his voice, it remaining a triumph, a weightless shimmering presence, captured midway between the sky and the studio. Always his strongest feature, followed, ascloseasthis, by his acutely literary lyrics, themselves sufficient for him to be made an honorary fellow of trinity College Literary Society., if sometimes also hard to capture. Islands sets the ball rolling; “I float sometimes when you’re around“, he sings, a buoyant love song, over a chunky backing: a repeated guitar strum, with a rhythm section adding sturdy support. Judicious use of echo adds to the feel of a sunny dreamscape. As a sign of intent it is a good start, with Teix Mountain continuing that mood, multi-tracked vocals and a steady tick of possibly electronic percussion.

That the album was conceived, written and laid down in Mallorca comes as little surprise, such is the sense of sunlight. Possibly a little more surprising is that Regan is the sole performer present, responsible for all the sounds that wash around his cascading voice.

cue anna friel – the actor…

Almost the sole performer, as Anna Friel, yes, that one, the actor, now adds her backing vocals for the title track. Actually, such now the number of Regans and Friels present, it becomes quite a chorale. Remember Afternoon Delight, the Starland Vocal Band’s US number one of 1976? That’s the vibe, although less wizened readers may also find distinct echoes of the Fleet Foxes.

Friel, a friend of Regan, lives on the island, and her home hosted his recording of the album. This is followed by the eloquently titled Blood Is Thicker Than Wine, no doubt true, where, over a repeated mantra of acoustic guitar, it is Bon Iver that might become a further reference. Early Iver, that is, before he went all Pitchfork, but bear in mind that Iver is a fan of Regan, sampling Regan’s Abacus on his song, 00000 Million, in 2022. That Regan describes this song as being hallucinatory should come as little surprise, it seemingly coming to him during one of those lightning storms that only the Mediterranean can do so well.

wind and waves

Anja I sticks with a sense of altered mind, a psychedelic fugue over more of that guitar, with piano chords and an insistent drumbeat propelling it forward. Here’s where I would have liked access to a lyric sheet, the wordplay a little lost in the mix and the multiple layers, if only to confirm his lyricism. Having said, my own ears attune always more the melodies, all strong enough to allow his voice(s) to be more instrument than information. Here he sounds as if he is singing in a cavern, and maybe he is, conjuring up also sirens, offshore.

Companion piece, Anja II, is more experimental, with Regan intoning over a stormy horizon of FX and echo. Likely a little disconcerting as a stand alone, in context it fits like a nonetheless welcome surprise last piece in a detailed jigsaw. Wind and waves close this track, that feeling entirely apt, with the sirens making their final appeal.

the rolling rotation of guitar

As Farewell sparks up, I feel I am becoming hypnotised by the rolling rotation of his guitar, and this, I have little doubt, is his intention, as he tries to finds “a place where we can go, not far from here, until you’ll never ever go” . A song, clearly, of parting, it sounds more a weary wish than a threat, with enough resignation seeping through to give that clarity. It is a gorgeous evocation of loss. Into The Light Of The Sun doesn’t allow much sadness to linger, being a sunny pure-pop construction. Yes, it is wistful, but in that way that Brian Wilson could spring out the bag, long after the candy stripes had faded.

headphones for headphones

More rolling guitar for Headphones , this the undoubted takeaway imprint this album leaves, that and the soaring vocal symphonies. And I did try it on headphones, too, prompted thereby, instantly getting a yet bigger hit of the care with which Regan and co-producer, Ian Grimble, have applied to the textures. I’d encourage you to pop on a pair of cans and prove that point. Then the simpler Swimming The Lakes, with deceptive repetition to maximise the artfulness inherent, not least is it slips and segues into the reflective Flowers And Stones, possibly the most lingering tune presented yet.

Closer, Deia Song / Llucalcari, sounds just that, as it bookends all the myriad textures that float through this project, as project it surely is, to be listened to in order, appreciative of the attention to detail within the sequencing. Multiple Regans fly around a sonic wall, back in that chamber, that cavern, the stone walls throwing back the sounds as they emerge. Deia is arguably the artistic and creative hub of Mallorca, onetime home of poet, Robert Graves, and, more recently, Kevin Ayers, and this song encapsulates Regan’s love of the island. (Which is no new affair, either, I learning it also where he wrote album number three, 100 Acres of Sycamore).

bottled summer energy

“I feel like the album has got quite a lot of bottled-summer energy running through it,” Regan has said, and there is certainly a lot of that, if glimpsed through the refraction of a less forgiving season, at least here in more northern climes. The summer evoked may be gone, with all attendant memories, but he makes you certain there will be another, to follow.

Blood Is Thicker Than Wine:

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