CHRISTY MOORE

CHRISTY MOORE: (The City Varieties, Leeds)

WELCOME TO the ‘Good Old Days’. Last time in Leeds he was playing the sprawling Gaelic sweatbox of ‘The Irish Centre’. Now it’s the pin-sharp acoustic clarity of this Edwardian Theatre set back off the city’s main pedestrianised drag The Headrow. You know this place from TV’s Music Hall costume extravaganza. But even Leonard Sachs’ convoluted introductions would be inadequate to do justice to Christy Moore’s unaccompanied ‘Lord Baker In Turkey Land’ – a song he’s only ever attempted live once before.

It’s a heart-shivering moment, chillingly pure, but just one of 23 songs spun out over two hours, with only acoustic guitar and bodhran to guide us from ‘Biko Drum’ through ‘Hills Of Donegal’, s hot through with the deep undertow of yearning myth, to the m magical ‘Reel Of The Flickering Light’.

From complex political issues to songs of freedom and drinking, they’re all served up with a largesse of enthusiasm that rapidly erodes the slight formal contours of the venue and breaks it down into small-club intimacy. Soon ‘The Daleman’s Litany’ from way-back is received with the same rapt warmth as ‘Lawless’ and ‘Before The Deluge’ from the King Puck album. A clear voice on a foggy night.

The City Varieties has known better days. There are unfortunate posters for a posse of male strippers called – I think, The Dream Boys, due next week for a Hen’s Special.

But this night, Christy Moore stands with the best.

• Andrew Darlington