"I'm the antithesis of Irish Rock" says the quiet and enigmatic Dublin musician Ken Sweeney, who commands a large cult following thanks to the slow-motion, lyrically-disturbed songs. "There is no hype, there is no bluster about what I do: it's all small scale and I only release music when I feel like releasing it, not when the record company wants some new product to sell in the shops", he continues. Thankfully, he's just "felt like it" again and this week sees the release of his first album since 1992's masterpiece Understand. If you came in late on Ken Sweeney - and most people have - all you really need to know is all he's prepared to tell you. Age 31 and from the Navan Road, he's quick to glaze over his past contributions to a variety of New Wave Dublin bands. More influenced by the softer, acoustic based and melodic ways of bands such as The Blue Nile and The Go-Betweens, he and his friend Niall Austin formed the band "Brian" in 1989 and much to their astonishment, their first ever single - a song called "A Million Miles" - which they financed and brought out on their own indie-label - found itself in that year's Hot Press Singles of the Year Poll, ahead of such acts as REM and Elvis Costello. The appeal was simple: at a time when other Irish bands were all chasing the U2 dollar with overblown rock songs, Ken Sweeney was strumming sadly away on his acoustic guitar and singing plaintive songs about the heartbreak of realtionships. Not a million miles away (pun intended, cheers) from Nick Drake territory. Quickly signed to London-Irish label, Setanta (whose roster includes Divine Comedy), Brian's first album Understand charted in the indie charts and got the best reviews this side of a Radiohead album and had Ken bleeding all over the tracks as he sang about love found and lost. "It's the only way I know to write songs" he says. "There always ordinary, everyday characters in the songs and the lyrics deal with real concerns like arguments and misunderstandings in relationships"

Despite adulation and the prospect of becoming a major international recording star, Ken Sweeney mysteriously walked away from it all soon after the album was released, much to the annoyance of his record company and cult of fans. He concentrated on his day job at The BBC Film Archives and nobody could convince him to return to the music business fray. What happened?

"I just felt I had said all I had to say on the album, I had written songs about certain situations in my life and had nothing further to add. I tend to describe myself as as a "shy and retiring" type and I wasn't that impressed by the music industry. I didn't want to bring out another album because for whatever reason in my own life I just didn't feel the inspiration. I have to feel something strongly to write a song about it because I'm all about putting feeling over in music", he explains. Forgotten except to those who plagued his record company to get him to bring out another album, Ken decided to accept a redundancy package from the BBC and move back to Dublin. "I was home for about six months and I think the change of surroundings and meeting new people, inspired a burst of creativity. I went up to a friend's house in Termonfeckin in Co.Louth and after years of writing nothing, I put down about 40 songs, which I whittled down to nine for the album." The demos were paid for by his friend, Graham Linehan, the co-writer of Father Ted - interestingly enough the other Ted writer, Arthur Mathews, played drums on the Planes EP. The new album sees Ken in uncharacteristically up-beat and bouncy musical form. Ken seems to have killed off his shoe-gazing past with a "pop" album. Has he been at the Prozac then? "I think it's just that I'm more travelled and more experienced," he says. Certainly the songs could be described as more shiny and more up than before, and there is possibly more warmth to these songs. There's also more technology at play on the album - with drum loops and synthesisers in there.

Lovers of Brian mark 1 need not fret that Ken has turned into a bandera-wearing, microphone spinning pop beast. you only have to listen to the downbeat Right Through Tuesday track, - with lyrics like "The way I opened up to you/you know every secret thing/and you've taken it all away with you/and I won't smile or meet your eyes" - to realise that all the interpersonal tragedy and pathos are still there in spades. "A song like that is just about something that happened between two people and how afterwards they could never be as close to each other again. It's getting that sort of a situation over in music that appeals to me, which is why I'm a big fan of Lyle Lovett and Iris De Ment. But not all the songs are as personal as that, This Kitchen 5AM is a deatiled description of a kitchen in the early morning while We Close 1-2 is just about a job I once did where I closed my office at Lunchtime." There's plently of orchestral arrangements on the album; the Royal College Of Music was drafted into the studio to lend a classical touch to the proceedings. "Any musician who tells you that he or she doesn't get a complete buzz out of a bunch of violinists playing your music back to you is a complete liar, it was a wonderful experience" Describing his main musical references as "Miracle Legion" "The Blue Nile " "The Stars Of Heave" "The Blades" and "The Go-Betweens" he was in his own words "gob-smacked" - and that's the first time I've ever used that awful word when he was asked to support "The Go-Betweens" at a gig in London next month. He seems much happier at the prospect of playing his songs this time around, mainly because he'll have various members of The Divine Comedy in his backing band and he feels he can do the new pop sound justice on stage. "It feels strange" he says "after all this time to be back recording and gigging again and I don't think I'll leave it as long next time,". And how's his sense of commitment this time around? "Oh it's there all right, I think that it could even be back for good"