Music

Maura O'Connell brings great songs to passionate life with her voice: a sturdy, melodic, from-the-soul instrument. Her interpretive powers are near-perfect, as is her ability to make someone else's personal lyrics universal.

O'Connell, a native of Ireland based in Nashville, has spent much of her singing career defending her art. Specifically, she's been answering the pesky question of why she doesn't pen tunes, as if singing them brilliantly isn't nearly enough.

"A singer has a gift," O'Connell says by phone while in Arkansas. "You have to recognize that it's a gift. There's always this underhanded notion that you must be a puppet of your producer or your record company. 'Oh, you just sing.' To me that's an insult to the whole idea of singing. A singer has as much to offer."

So she gives us Naked With Friends, which is in stores today. The CD consists of 13 songs done completely a cappella. There isn't a single instrumentalist on the disc.

What's more, O'Connell, 50, is the sole lead vocalist of each number. Her "friends" are harmony vocalists such as Dolly Parton, Alison Krauss, Mary Black and Jerry Douglas, a couple of duet singers in Tim O'Brien and Paul Brady, or a choir dubbed The Settles Connection.

It's a most unique, beautiful record, one that travels through pop and folk cuts (Cheryl Wheeler's "Arrow," Joan Armatrading's "Weakness in Me"), traditional Irish tunes ("Mo Sheamuseen," "Anach Cuain") and even a Holly Near-written song in Spanish ("Hay Una Mujer Desaparecida").

"I've always thought I'd make a record some day of just me singing," she says.

"I always thought I'd do it, and it would be something just for myself."

And yet, here is that record for public consumption. O'Connell, whose recorded output spans nearly three decades, has always been difficult to classify, for she can easily move from adult contemporary pop to folk to country. Plus, she throws in at least one authentic song from her country.

While she has experienced mainstream success in Ireland, stateside she's a critically acclaimed artist with a cult following. O'Connell knows that recording a CD such as Naked With Friends won't help her chances for commercial gain.

She doesn't care.

"In this day and age, a singer of the music that I do, I don't think I would have a hope in the world," she says.

"They would laugh at me. That is a sad thing, that there is not going to be the honoring of a great singer: making the instrument of the voice more important than the song itself. There is a melding of all the elements. There is a pull and push between all of that. I really wanted to do this to show that there is an art to singing."

That's what's important to O'Connell, not radio hits or million-selling albums.

She'll pointedly tell you that she never aimed to be a professional singer.

She spent her childhood singing sans instruments. It was the most natural thing to do during her formative years while growing up in an abundantly musical family and among her mother's opera and parlor-song records.

"I don't want to be famous," she says.

"I think that there are people who have an artistic something that doesn't allow them to go too broadly. My artistic purity is of such an individualistic nature. Coming from a musical family ... Coming from a small town ... There are so many aspects to it. It's part of my soul. It's an easy thing for me to do."