The college years are often a time for reinvention, for going in new directions, as was the case for Boston-based fiddler Hannah O’Brien while a student at the University of Michigan. But she also rekindled her childhood love for Irish traditional music.

And even as she has continued to explore other genres and styles, especially as part of a duo with fellow U of Michigan grad and multi-instrumentalist Grant Flick, O’Brien has held fast to that key aspect of her musical identity – and an important family legacy that extends across generations.

“When I was young, we spent every summer in Ireland, and there were lots of fun, positive music experiences, whether at sessions, schools, or festivals,” recalls O’Brien, who grew up in St. Louis but whose father Andrew – also a fiddler – is a native of North Dublin. “The music was a way for our family, and their friends, to stay connected, to share something that was very precious.”

Last month, O’Brien and Flick officially launched their second album, “Unmatched Pair,” at a concert in Harvard Square’s Club Passim. They describe the album as a reflection of their “respective musical upbringings”: mostly original tunes that have elements of Irish, Americana, and classical as well as less obvious influences that, nonetheless, fit snugly into their stylistic suitcase. On fiddles, the pair play in unison, other times in harmony, or one will provide a rhythmic or drone backing for the other; Flick’s turns on nyckelharpa or five-string tenor guitar broaden this dynamic. They’re not above a high-risk, high-reward approach, either: Witness their four-part harmonies – that is, each of them playing double harmonies on his/her respective fiddle – on Flick’s Texas-style waltz, “See You Soon.”

One of the tracks on “Unmatched Pair” combines O’Brien’s “Andrew O’Brien’s Fiddle,” a slip jig composed in honor of her father, with the reel “John Kelly’s Concertina,” associated with the legendary Clare fiddler/concertina player and father of fiddler James Kelly (whose resume includes Patrick Street and Planxty, among others). It’s an altogether amiable, relaxed yet jaunty medley – abetted by Flick’s understated guitar accompaniment and his flatpicking at the very end – that reflects O’Brien’s appreciation of the way generations bond over traditional music.

 “Encapsulating someone, or the essence of someone, in a tune is somewhat of a daunting task,” she writes in the album’s sleeve notes, describing how impressed she was by Michael McGoldrick’s recording of “John Kelly’s.” O’Brien goes on to recall how touched she was by James Kelly’s reminiscences of his father, not just as a musician but as someone “who made an effort to share and connect with people through his music.

“It feels special to attribute a tune to someone, especially someone who has been such a musical inspiration for me,” she continues. “This is just a small thank you to my dad for being such an encouraging and supportive person in my life, and I hope to keep passing on and celebrating his love of making and sharing music.”

The music she and her father enjoy is a family treasure. O’Brien’s paternal grandfather, Dinny, played melodeon, as did his uncles. Besides hosting sessions themselves, the O’Brien family would also frequent those at the North Star Hotel in North Dublin, whose regulars included renowned figures like Finbarr Dwyer, Charlie Lennon, and future Altan member Mark Kelly. O’Brien’s musically inclined relatives include her uncles Mick, an uilleann piper whose 2003 recording with Caoimhín Ó Raghallaigh, “Kitty Lie Over,” was The Irish Echo’s Traditional Album of the Year; John, an uilleann piper and whistle player who also makes whistles; Tom, a fiddler who ran a popular Dublin pub; and Donncha, a highly regarded whistle player who died before Hannah was born. Her grandfather, father, and uncles (except for John, who was too young at the time) also recorded an album in 1974 under the name Ár Leithéidí.

In addition, O’Brien’s cousins – her uncle Mick’s daughters – Aoife, Cormac, and Ciara Ní Bhrian are accomplished musicians.

While Hannah happily embraced the family legacy as a young child, her father also had her take classical violin, so that she would be able to read music. For a while, she consistently played both Irish and classical, the two taking turns occupying her attention span. But in high school, she stopped playing Irish altogether, and so matters stood until she met Flick.

A Bowling Green, Ohio, native, he also had a significant – but different – musical influence via his father. He had started violin in late elementary school, but became interested in the bluegrass and old-timey music his father played, and made the rounds of camps and festivals, picking up guitar on the way. Flick took a shine to the more modern, experimental bluegrass as well as jazz violin a la Stéphane Grappelli, and decided to explore further at Michigan, and began composing his own tunes.

O’Brien found that Michigan’s classical music program “encouraged you to be open-minded: There was a lot of flexibility to focus on what you’re interested in, as opposed to just following a list.” While she enjoyed that freedom, she adds, “by sophomore year I was really itching to play Irish traditional music.”

She got Flick’s name as someone who might be fun to play with – although she assumed he was an Irish-style guitarist.

“We both turned out to be different than what we thought,” she says. “The idea of writing my own music never occurred to me, but I was intrigued by what Grant was doing and we just started working together.”

“Hannah and I just had – and still have – a really good rapport,” says Grant. “We’re always learning from one another, and bouncing ideas off each other. We’ve made this space in which we can connect our musical backgrounds and interests, and create something new.”

In 2021, they recorded their first album, “Windward,” which grew out of their studies at Michigan and was financially supported by arts-oriented funds associated with the university. That same year, O’Brien moved to Boston to study at the New England Conservatory, while Flick settled in Ann Arbor. Keeping up their partnership was a challenge – “We’d shout ideas to one another over the ’Net,” says Flick – but they were able to build on their repertoire, do some performances together, and eventually go back into the studio to make “Unmatched Pair.”

“‘Windward’ was exploratory, especially with the writing, in that it all still felt kind of new to us,” says Flick. “But this album is a clearer portrait of where we are. There’s a certain defining vision to it; you could actually listen to it as a song cycle.”

Whatever its age or nationality, a tune from or in the style of folk tradition typically evokes, and is named for, people, places, experiences, and events – and tends to reflect the idiosyncrasies and interests of the composer. Such inspiration is clearly abundant for O’Brien and Flick, as “Unmatched Pair” demonstrates. 

“Dismal Nitch,” for example – which showcases Flick’s fine flatpicking as well as O’Brien’s smooth bow strokes – came to Flick after he travelled through the titular state park in Washington that received its name from Lewis and Clark, who were stuck there in a blizzard. Flick was struck by the juxtaposition of the park’s name and its origin with the late-spring lush green forest and dense foliage that he saw.

Another Flick composition, “Beaver Island Ferry” – recalling a very pleasant trip on Lake Michigan – is a joyous, rambunctious swirl of twin fiddles with a kinda-sorta Scandinavian feel. If the time signature and rhythm seem on the irregular side, it’s a function of “just letting the melody run in the writing process without a direct thought for the form,” according to Flick. 

O’Brien’s “The Fool’s March” – which originated a school project that involved joining a musical motif to a melody that did not match – is, at first blush, a rather somber affair: It starts with Flick on lead, O’Brien plucking rather than bowing strings, then gradually transitioning into harmonies and, ultimately, into the melody (at the end, she manages to both pluck and bow). For her, the feel is similar to venerable Irish marches like “O’Sullivan’s” or “O’Neill’s” that serve multiple purposes: to project “sadness and grief, but also celebration and remembrance.”

“All of our tunes are taught by ear to one another,” says Flick. “One person comes in with the melody and perhaps some idea of chords, and we toss it around until an avenue presents itself. We dive into what the character of each tune turns out to be.”

 “It’s hard to define what we do,” says O’Brien. “Listeners tend to like a clear answer, but with us it’s just not that straightforward. We’re not definitively Irish, or bluegrass, or classical, but you get a feeling of all those in our music.”

For more about Hannah O’Brien and Grant Flick, see Obrienflickmusic.com