Unhappy as major label teen idols in the 1980s, the 4 of Us have now retreated into Internet-driven independence. And they love it, writes Tony Clayton-Lea

Unjustifiably regarded as one of the many hyped Irish rock bands that floundered in the wake of major label association in the 1980s/1990s, the 4 Of Us have long since taken stock of their post-Sony career and come up with business and creative mission statements that see them operating at the top of their game. The Internet has assisted in keeping the band (in essence brothers Brendan and Declan Murphy) afloat, as have savvy notions of what constitutes a successful career.

"It's a perfect situation," explains lead singer and songwriter Brendan Murphy, a striking figure amid the ordinariness of competent hotel lobby efficiency. "It's the difference between Woody Allen and Steven Spielberg; with every movie Allen makes, he comes in under budget and, as a result, not one person interferes with his way of doing things. He's allowed to pursue his own creative endeavours, which would be a hobby for him if he weren't being paid for it. He's creative on his own terms. Someone such as Spielberg, however, makes his own identity work on a massive scale very fast. But it only takes one or two mistakes before you're Prince or George Michael, and suddenly you and what you do are being second-guessed or marginalised."

Clearly this hasn't happened to Spielberg, but Murphy's point is well intentioned and made. There are many hundreds of pop/rock acts that have burned brightly and quickly, their spark fading in the distance. In the case of the 4 Of Us, their initial flurry of fame in the late 1980s petered out in the early 1990s when, dropped by Sony (despite the commercial achievements of their début Songs For The Tempted and the critical success of their second album, Man Alive, easily one of Irish rock's lost classic albums), they took some time before they featured in the public consciousness again.

"We flirted with the rock band aesthetic," claims Murphy, "but we were never really one; it wasn't where the heart was. I never felt comfortable with the band-in-the-back-of-the-bus scenario. And from a lyrical point of view, I place myself in the tradition of narrative songwriters, and that's not a rock music thing, either."

Their third album, 1999's Classified Personal was not only a belated comeback, but also a completely different kettle of fish. Muted, melancholic and beautifully forlorn, with Murphy's voice as intimate and needy as a lingering glance, the acoustic-driven album might not have been as bravado-fuelled a return to the fray as their mainstream fans might have hoped for, but it was nevertheless the record that turned their fortunes around. Murphy nods his head in agreement.

"Making Classified Personal saved our bacon. It was a shot in the dark because we released it independently." Could they have done it 10 years ago? Absolutely not. "Ten years ago the infrastructure just wasn't there," he says. "Everyone thought there was only one way - the major label way.

"We now sell more albums online (through their website www.the4ofus.com) to the USA than anywhere else, which is strange because we don't really go out there."

Coming almost four years after Classified Personal, the band's new album, Heaven & Earth, continues the Murphys' latter trend of releasing albums as and when they feel like it. It also continues Classified Personal's fragile, tenuous grip on emotional issues, albeit with a slightly fuller sound. "We knew what we were trying to make with this album, and as such it was the most relaxing time recording we've yet experienced. I still haven't fallen out of love with the acoustic guitar, but the trick here was how to make an essentially acoustic record different from the usual singer/songwriter thing."

Murphy says he used to listen to music before he went out for a night on the tiles in order to pump him up.

These days he listens to music late at night in order to wind him down. Citing instrumental, ambient/acoustic and "otherworldly" music as a major influence in song structure, he's influenced lyrically by the holy trinity of Bob Dylan, Randy Newman and Tom Waits, narrative writers that mix humour, tall tales and gothic imagery with all manner of human conditions. Murphy adds his own clear sense of pensiveness, the majority of which is clear cut and defined. "If I get it right," he says, "there is both straightforward narrative and ambiguity. I'm not against people who are a lot more vague in terms of imagery, but to me I still haven't tired of people who tell great stories.

"And I haven't got tired of writing like that, either. I love being in that mournful mood when I'm singing. It makes me feel great and I don't know why that is. I even find myself writing songs that get me into that mood. I'm not that sad a person, really, but that feeling is great. At the same time you try not to repeat yourself. Maybe for the next album we should lighten up."

Proving that a low-key approach works as well as a big budget scenario, Murphy says The Four Of Us will carry on doing what they want to do when they want to do it. "We're not a big touring operation; our acoustic tours are great fun, and you do get to the age where you have to ask yourself, do I enjoy it? Ultimately, you have to eliminate the elements of what you do that you don't enjoy. The real question is this: can you afford to eliminate the bits you don't like doing? Thankfully, we can."

Heaven & Earth is released on Feb 14th. The Four of Us play The Granary, Killarney on Feb 15th and Roisín Dubh, Galway, Feb 24th/25th, with more dates throughout March.