He's a quietly spoken man, is Daniel O'Donnell.
Yet, despite the modesty, there is a melodious quality to his voice that he cannot escape.
Even his occasional yawns convey an honest charm.
It is 9.30pm (his time) and O'Donnell is speaking from Kincasslagh, in Donegal, the county where he was born and chooses to remain.
He sounds a little bit tired, a result perhaps of what has been "quite an exception for us", a rare sunny day in northwest Ireland.
Back at home for a couple of weeks, he packs his bags for a month-long trip to Australia and New Zealand, including a concert at the Dunedin Town Hall on Friday, August 22.
O'Donnell doesn't mind travelling, though he's also happy "to go nowhere", to stay at home with his wife, Majella.
Still, at the end of a journey, there is usually a show and "that's a big part of it".
"I'm not away for that long really. I'm only away in total about a month . . . It's a very quick trip, just to do the shows."
The journey down under is part of an off-again, on-again world tour, which began in April and finishes in December.
"There are a lot of breaks; it's not continuous," O'Donnell explains.
"I don't work continually now. The most I would tend to do is three days on the trot."
Such scheduling is born of professional wisdom.
In the early 1990s, following several years of hard graft, an overbooked, exhausted O'Donnell found himself without a voice.
He now enjoys his holidays, particularly when they are spent with Majella.
"I think we're lucky, because when we're off we spend more time together than most couples. We were off at the beginning of the year and we spent two months together. I don't think many couples get to do that . . . We spent 10 weeks in Tenerife."
More recently, the couple enjoyed a holiday in Portugal and a cruise on the Mediterranean, including a stop in Rome, where O'Donnell got to see the Pope.
Described as an "easy-listening" entertainer, O'Donnell could go by another moniker: Daniel the Determined.
In the early 1980s, his early attempts to break into the United Kingdom's music industry didn't get too much encouragement.
He was viewed as an artist who sang "songs from a bygone era".
In other words, he wasn't cool.
Still, he persevered.
"I suppose I just loved what I was doing. I loved the music and I felt that there was a market there.
"I also felt I would rather be successful doing something I really enjoyed than be successful doing something where I could have maybe chosen a different type of music. I wanted to do what I loved."
A couple of decades on and the self-belief has paid off.
O'Donnell has won numerous music awards and received an honorary MBE (for services to music) in 2002.
He has enjoyed chart positions and big album sales.
Yet despite the success, he continues to perform in a fashion that is, well, unfashionable.
His shows often span three hours, after which he holds meet-and-greet sessions with the audience.
"I like what I do," O'Donnell enthuses.
"I feel that people deserve a show that is worthwhile. I think people make a great effort to come to a show; they pay a lot of money. I like to think they have seen and heard something worthwhile."
A look at O'Donnell's website confirms the impression of a performer who is anything but pretentious.
His favourite food? Mince and potatoes (and some Chinese dishes). Favourite holiday destination? Tenerife. Best asset? Teeth. Worst? His stomach.
"I have love handles, but what can you do? It's an age thing," O'Donnell says.
For exercise, O'Donnell likes nothing more than a round of golf.
He says he played the day before our interview, describing the round as "desperately bad".
He concedes his handicap is steadily increasing.
At last count it was a shade over 22, far from the likes of compatriot and two-time British Open winner Padraig Harrington.
"I met him briefly once. We are just thrilled with his success. Anyone I know who has any sort of connection with him has nothing but good things to say about him. It's always nice to see the good guys getting there . . . He seems to be such a nice person."
It takes one to know one.