A small dog is squirming around in my lap, over-excited, highly entertaining and unable to keep its mouth shut. Qualities which, in the nicest way possible, could also be ascribed to its owner. I’m sitting in a car driven by Camille O’Sullivan, who has generously picked me up from Dublin airport. We’ve stopped for coffee, bought provisions, collected the aforementioned puppy, and are now heading to her back garden for some chat about this year’s Fringe show, Loveletter. And at no point has she stopped talking.

‘I could talk for Ireland,’ confesses O’Sullivan, as we settle into chairs and let the puppy loose. We’re surrounded by boxes and the usual chaos of packing up a home, as O’Sullivan prepares to move house. She’s dwelled here for over 20 years but a new life beckons across the city with her long-term partner, the actor Aidan Gillen, and her daughter Leila. Again, much like the dog, our surroundings reflect their owner. O’Sullivan jumps from subject to subject like a butterfly landing on flowers, and the result is just as beautiful. Her stream of consciousness is unfiltered, fascinating and refreshingly honest, both in her back garden and when she’s standing in the spotlight.

Celebrating her 20th year at the Edinburgh Fringe, O’Sullivan looks back with fondness at her debut performance and the opportunities it opened up. ‘It was a small journey from Ireland to Scotland but psychologically it was the biggest step I’d ever taken in my life as a performer,’ she recalls. ‘I hadn’t realised what a shop window Edinburgh is. I remember thinking at the time “don’t ever forget this because it will be a big moment in your life”. But I didn’t know how big, and that it would take me all over the world and back.’ 

This Fringe, she’ll be digging deeper into her emotional reserves than ever before. Known for stunning renditions of songs by the likes of Nick Cave, Jacques Brel and Edith Piaf, her new show turns its attention to singers the world (and, in some instances, O’Sullivan in particular) has loved and lost. Paying tribute to David Bowie, Leonard Cohen, Shane MacGowan and Sinéad O’Connor, Loveletter will feature a catalogue of songs that capture the essence of these beloved performers. 

‘Singing somebody’s songs when they’ve passed is really different to singing them when they’re alive,’ says O’Sullivan. ‘With their passing, the songs take on a different meaning; they become like living hymns and you see them in a clearer way than you ever did before. They created some of the best songs I’ve ever heard in my life and all I want to do is gift them back to the audience.’ As much an actor as she is a singer, O’Sullivan has the capacity to make you hear and experience songs in a different way. She may perform other people’s work, but to call her a covers singer would be akin to calling Michelangelo a painter and decorator. 

Accompanied by long-time collaborator and talented musician Feargal Murray, she takes the lyrics and sentiment of a song and makes it her own, while paying endless respect to its originator. Since her first appearance in 2004, as part of the La Clique cabaret, O’Sullivan has become a regular fixture at the Fringe with more than a few tales to tell. Not least the time she was electrocuted on stage but carried on regardless (she jokes that the band only knew there was something wrong because she’d stopped talking for a whole minute). This time around, the emotional vulnerability and openness she conveys on stage will be even more personal, due to her connection with those involved. 

In December last year, she joined Irish music royalty (and some Hollywood stars) at MacGowan’s funeral, where she sang The Pogues’ 1986 single, ‘Haunted’. O’Sullivan had known MacGowan since 2000 when she first joined him on stage in Dublin to sing Kirsty MacColl’s part in ‘Fairytale Of New York’. She later went on tour with The Pogues (‘anarchy but amazing’) and remained good friends with MacGowan until the end, visiting him in hospital a few days before he died. 

‘I felt very blessed to sing at his funeral because it was such an honour,’ she says. ‘I was also terrified because I was thinking “don’t mess this up”. But Feargal said “just remember you’re saying goodbye to your friend and that’s all you need to do”. There was such a feeling of love and joy in the church but I was scared I was going to forget my words, and there was a moment when I was about to burst into tears. Then I looked at the coffin and I thought: what would Shane do? “Haunted” was so beautiful to sing and that’s why it has to be in my show, because it will always conjure up that memory.’ 

David Bowie’s death in 2016, on the other hand, rendered O’Sullivan voiceless. She recalls singing ‘Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide’ on stage the night before and travelling home afterwards planning to investigate Bowie’s back catalogue further. ‘The next morning he died and I couldn’t sing,’ she says. ‘He was my big thing when I was growing up; I loved him and thought I was gonna marry the man. I hate social media, but I went on to Facebook and it was wonderful for moments of connection, with people sharing stories and everybody saying how lovely he was. So I thought of doing a show about him, but I couldn’t. What’s funny is that now I’m finally ready and my agent says “Camille, the world and its mother has already done Bowie”. But I’ll do all the unknown songs.’

When O’Connor died last summer, O’Sullivan found solace in discovering the singer’s more recent output, which she had previously been unaware of. ‘Sinéad was a very complex girl,’ says O’Sullivan. ‘I didn’t know her as well as I knew Shane, but she was very kind and very funny. It was a real comfort to listen to her songs after she died and all of them were great. I hadn’t listened to them before because I was a stupid fool and just thought, well, those were the hits. I wish I had listened to them and I wish I’d known how great she was after the late 80s and 90s. It’s unbelievable what she wrote and everything was autobiographical.’

Although O’Sullivan was already well versed in MacGowan’s material, she also found comfort in seeking out lesser-known recordings to inform her setlist in Edinburgh. ‘I had listened to all of Shane’s stuff before but it was so lovely listening to different versions. And that’s what I did with Bowie and Leonard Cohen, too. I spent ages listening to recordings and interviews, trying to discover something more. I went into a kind of deep study, just listening, listening, listening.’

Research may play a part in what O’Sullivan delivers on stage, but it’s her capacity to absorb the pain, sadness and wit which a songwriter imbues in their work, then share its universality with the audience that makes her so special. So by the end of Loveletter, we’ll not only feel entertained and moved but perhaps know the soft underbelly of these musical giants a little better. 

‘Both Shane’s and Sinéad’s songs have heartbreak in them in some way. Even when she was being tough, she was vulnerable; her fierceness was heartbreaking. So was Shane’s, because even though he was all bluster, how else can you write “A Rainy Night In Soho” or “A Pair Of Brown Eyes” or lines in “Fairytale Of New York” like “I could have been someone”? So I want to take some of the words out of the songs and just say them. Because people may know the lyrics and have heard them 5000 times, but I’m just going to take a sentence and land it, and go “that’s the man.”’

Camille O’Sullivan: Loveletter, Assembly Roxy, 31 July–17 August, 9.35pm.