First and foremost, there’s the voice, a grainy wonder that flows like a river to the sea, rising and receding along the way. It soaks through the skin while listening. The instruments are akin to the river’s banks in this metaphor, seemingly nature’s guardrails guiding the water along its path. In point of fact, of course, the embankments are the result of the water gradually cutting through and into the rock and ground.
“A Madonna-whore complex, is it a thing?” Niamh Regan asks on “Madonna,” the compelling opening track on Come as You Are, before delving into a litany of both fun and serious issues, with the latter often mentioned in public discourse yet never addressed by politicians in meaningful ways. Think objectification, violence against women, and “the love that never keeps you safe.” In conversation with RTE’s Other Voices, the Irish singer-songwriter described the album as “almost like ‘dad rock’ but with a cranky woman voice.” That fits. “Belly,” for instance, excavates the inequities that exist in many relationships (and not just romantic ones).
“Music,” the third track, is as magnetic a song as I’ve heard, with its catchy musical refrain pulling you close to the speakers. At the same time, lyrically, she attacks an oft-unspoken concern: when music loses its magic. I’m sure, in Regan’s case, it has to do with the making of it, perhaps writer’s block or life’s larger concerns turning it into a chore and/or bore—especially if one’s spouse is in a cult that promotes green juice. (Yes, that’s a thing.) But it works for us fans, too. “Music doesn’t do it for you,” she sings/chants atop an intoxicating melody. Who hasn’t had instances when cherished albums and songs lost their magic and new releases sounded worse than silence?
If the album ended there, three songs in, it would be a five-star affair; the songs that follow only add to that assertion. “Long Haul” contemplates a relationship’s ups and downs while vowing to see how far she can take it, though the more I listen to it the more I think it has to do with being a working musician. “Nice,” meanwhile, digs into self-esteem and social media. “Take It Easy” is not the Eagles song, though that might’ve been cool, but a piano piece about a relationship’s end. “Blame,” meanwhile, explores the need we, as a people, have to point to someone or something to explain away life’s bad moments. It’s restrained ferocity for the most part, with Regan’s vocals and the guitars growing in intensity until, by song’s end, everything crashes ashore. Likewise “Waves”; it’s catharsis set to song.
“Paint a Picture” finds the tension receding ever-so-slightly while she articulates her fear of living alone—not from the lack of love, but a lack of income. (Making music isn’t the cash grab many assume.) Tommy McLaughlin, who produced the album, rips a guitar solo at the end that’s as searing as the lyrics. The album’s penultimate track, “Mortgage,” digs into the disillusionments of adulthood, while the final, hidden track celebrates the end of the album in a way that’s sweet, joyful and sad—much like the 10 tracks that precede it.
Regan’s first outing in 2020, Hemet, and the following In the Meantime EP in 2022 were sublime, folk-flavored affairs. Come as You Are, on the other hand, finds her sound evolving into ‘70s-flavored folk-rock, with guitars as likely to growl as sing. She brought her song sketches into the studio and, with McLaughlin, fleshed them out. The end result is one of the strongest albums I’ve heard this year.

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