Niall Horan on Damien Rice’s O: ‘His approach to recording is beaten into my subconscious’

In our weekly celebration of albums, Niall Horan writes about how he first fell in love with Damien Rice’s debut, and how it continues to inspire him today

Damien Rice in concert at Cardiff International Arena, 2007 (Rex)

I don’t think I’ve ever written a song the same again since spending time with O by Damien Rice. I’m obsessed with the exquisite way he recorded every minute detail. You have all these intricate scrapes of a guitar, vocal scratches and stuff, and he’s left them in there. It’s those imperfections that make the album.

The entire thing was recorded on an eight-track cassette recorder that his cousin, the film composer David Arnold, gave him. One of my favourite things about it is those harmonies with Lisa Hannigan, whom he met at random in a café. He told The Guardian in 2003 that basically the whole thing was “all a big f***ing accident”. There was nothing driving him; it wasn’t like he wanted to play stadiums or anything once the album came out.

In 1998, Rice had just quit his band Juniper over creative differences and left Ireland to go and live in the Tuscan hills. He had the idea he was going to be a farmer, but while he was there staring at olive trees, he realised it was the restrictions of his former label he’d hated, not the actual process of making music. After spending time busking around Europe, he went home to Celbridge near Dublin and started his own record label, and began recording songs in his kitchen.

I was about nine when I first heard O, in 2002. I think my cousins might have been playing it at their house. Just listening to his voice, how simple but effectively he uses it, the wrenching way he delivers a certain note, struck me. Songs of mine like “Flicker” and “Paper Houses”… Rice’s approach is beaten into my subconscious, particularly that style of finger-picking on the acoustic guitar. He also changed the way I actually record albums – I try not to be quite so obsessive about everything going in exactly the right place. Ed Sheeran does the same – if you listen to his first album, +, it’s so influenced by Rice. If you hear a vocal crack on the song it’s because he left it in on purpose.

Niall Horan performing at O2 Academy Brixton (Rex)

Outside of Ireland, where O went double platinum, Rice’s success was more a word-of-mouth thing. People made a big deal out of celebrities turning up to his shows – there was a story from LA when Rice was playing the Troubadour, and Britney Spears turned up with Colin Farrell and spent the entire time talking and making out with him in the VIP section. Having “The Blower’s Daughter” as the song that soundtracked that famous final scene from Closer, between Jude Law and Natalie Portman’s characters, probably didn’t hurt either.

He’s one of those artists who you could mention pretty much anywhere in the world, and people would know who he is. Singer-songwriters, including myself, have a lot to thank him for. Ed Sheeran actually gives him a shout out in one of his earliest songs, “You Need Me, I Don’t Need You”. That’s the kind of impact he’s had on a generation of singer-songwriters. I actually got in touch with Damien recently, through Ed, for something non-music related, and I felt compelled to add a PS: “Thank you so much for shaping my music forever.” I thought I’d better get that in, in case I didn’t get another chance. Him and the Eagles – those are my two biggest influences.

I went through a phase a few years ago where I didn’t listen to it much, but now I’ve got back into it. I always play it on planes when I’m struggling to relax. The way each song unfolds, those lush melodies, and how he’ll go from this really low murmur into a cry that rips your heart into pieces. Coming from Ireland, obviously I was raised on that singer-songwriter tradition, but Rice is the one who’s always stood out for me.

Niall Horan’s video for ‘Black and White’ is out now