Villagers - Oxford O2 Academy

Conor J. O'Brien
Tommy McLaughlin
James Byrne
Danny Snow
Cormac Curran

Now, some would say that The xx could possibly have done without winning the Mercury Award, and that maybe they would’ve been just fine without it, and that actually it should’ve gone to Irish artist Connor O’Brien’s band Villagers...but then that would just be an opinion. Anyway, regardless of his Mercury defeat, Villagers are confidently touring and sounding better than they ever have.

Connor was supported by a largely unknown Welsh artist, Cate Le Bon. I’ll be honest, it was a couple of tracks before I really got what she was trying to do. Sort of a prog cross between Laura Marling, Marina Diamandis and Sigur Ross, Cate had a striking songbird voice that cut through the audience. Cate herself had a strong image and looked perfect on a guitar behind a keyboard under the stage lights. Her second guitarist, on the other hand, looked a bit like he was doing the best impression of a homeless man that he could manage. And confusingly, her bassist wasn’t wearing any shoes. They instrument-swapped part way through the set a number of times (personal pet-hate; pointless, wastes time) which, on a relatively small stage, proved a little bit difficult and, as Cate said herself, ‘this is getting a bit awkward’. Nevertheless, the music that blasted through the amps filled the venue and by the end, left us all charmed and somewhat bewildered. In a good way.

Finishing with a track I don’t know the name of (annoyingly, we were never told the names of any of the songs), Cate strode of stage and her band sort of bumbled behind her. A brief interlude whilst various instruments were changed and tuned and what have you, and then the lights dipped and rose carefully to light one man and his guitar.

From the first chord of his opening song, Connor had the audience in the palm of his hand. 27 Strangers, a song which before I found boring and couldn’t stand, had me totally captivated with the pure and unrestrained emotion in Connor’s vocals going right to the back wall. A previously restless and unfocussed crowd fell completely silent during an a cappella section, strikingly obvious whenever Connor paused for breath as the only sound was the hum of the air conditioning and the buzz of the amps.

After each song there was always a slight hesitation before applause, with him even having to modestly say occasionally ‘that’s it’, because no one wanted to snap away from the atmosphere or be dragged from the world that Connor had managed to create. What is often overlooked in music now is the power to tell a story, which Villagers without a doubt have. Connor sang each song as a tale of its own, emphasising the lyrics and their meaning, with the audience hanging on his every word, something which so many modern popular acts struggle with and quite possibly will never achieve.

The band joined Connor onstage for Home and stayed with him up until the final few songs, standing comfortably behind their frontman. That Day was another startlingly moving performance, so powerful in fact that Connor broke a string on his guitar. He carried on regardless, ignoring the minor issue that his guitar had lost a sixth of its range, and made it possible for us all to ignore anything that wasn’t in what he was saying.

Connor was left alone at the piano for the end of When I Saw The Dead, a characteristically lyrically dark and disturbing track that was so eerily delicate live that the other musicians leaving stage were barely noticeable, and it wasn’t until he took his hands away from the keys that anyone really noticed that anything had changed.

Their encore track was a song about statues, a story which could easily just have been something that was seen on local news, but backed with subtle instrumentation and a gentle touch, it grew into something more. With everyone listening carefully, possibly to the story even more than the music, Connor managed to turn a fairly mundane and insignificant event into what felt almost like a fable, and startled everyone into thinking.

Villagers finished with an old song, treating the crowd to a track previously relatively unheard. Naturally, it was sublime and felt like the perfect end. So they didn’t win the Mercury award, and they’ll probably never get to the same level of popularity as The xx, but maybe that isn’t a bad thing. With now phenomenal amounts of pressure, the young duo of The xx may struggle and will inevitably produce a second album that’s not as good as the first, whereas Villagers’ debut, Becoming a Jackal, has been recognised as an album of brilliance and by just missing out, they’ve been left to their own devices. An astonishing album and stunningly powerful live, Villagers are right where they need to be.

By Rosie