The Start Of History: Fionn Regan

A few weeks back, two Broadsheets got themselves into a proper scrap, just before break, over who could daub the most outrageous superlatives on a young Irishman called Fionn Regan. The Times won courtesy of a sassy line, referring to his ability to: “…coax dazzling rivulets of sound from his guitar”, knockout! Their triumph, however, was shortlived as Gigwise meets up with the object of their affront with his own brand of simpering adjectives half-cocked.

Regan, enveloped by a battered sofa backstage at Sheffield’s Boardwalk, fixes me with an intense stare that belies his tender 25 years. “It’s been amazing, mon.” he burns, of the rapt broadsheets and the packed out sing-along crowds which have dogged him on his first headline tour of the UK. “I’m on an independent label, y’know, and I don’t have huge budgets for promotion, but people are finding out about the record and coming along to the shows and singing along. It’s amazing!”

Regan’s debut album, ‘The End of History’, was released at the beginning of August to little fanfare, aside from the aforementioned frothy broadsheet reviews, but an infectious word-of-mouth firestorm has grown up around him. Upon listening to his album, it’s easy to see why the critics and fans are lathering themselves up so. There is little ostentation, just Regan’s voice, his intricately plucked guitar and if he’s feeling self-indulgent perhaps some easily spooked drums. But there’s a luminosity immediately evident in his song writing that hails the listener and demands their attention. The intimacy and the charm Regan’s mere voice musters is astounding, it’s almost as if he’s imparting the very depth of his soul to just you, the listener.

Comparisons have been made to Elliot Smith, Paul Simon, Baudelaire, Nick Drake and Jeff Buckley and Bert Jansch; a role-call so ill-assorted to suggest he is, in fact, an original. Granted, on occasion he keens like Buckley or his guitar does a double body pop care of Elliot Smith, but it’s only ever fleeting and for the most part he sounds like, well, Fionn Regan.

Lyrically ‘The End of History’ stands out as well; it’s a record heavy with beautifully detailed imagery and literary influence. His ability to conjure scenes full of pathos rivals that of his heroes: “…I’d lie in Beckenham Park with tears like flashbulbs, and recall my treasure searching days in the rock pools as a kid” he sings in ‘Put a Penny in the Slot’. When he name checks American writers Paul Auster and Saul Bellows its not done in a Johnny ‘check me out I’m the modern incarnation of the beat poets, man’ Borrel sort of way, but because it embellishes the tale.