When the boys came back to town for the last time, it wasn't the context to worry too intensely about subtlety. It was an occasion, a night to remember, an unrepeatable experience.
Despite the dodgy acoustics of the Simmonscourt extension, the band delivered. That fabulous Lizzy sound, galvanised on 'Jailbreak' and immortalised on the magnificent 'Live and Dangerous' set, wore its longevity well, that gorgeous underlying gaelic inflections in the twin-guitar counterpoints spinnng their weave of magic as ever. Thin Lizzy can wield as much power as a jet-propelled Juggaraut but they're also delicate and lyrical, at their best, evoking through their music a sense of the ineffable sadness out of which Irish history is embroidered. Hearing those strains for the last time, only the terminally stone-hearted would not have been moved.
My own inner strings were most tugged by 'The Boys Are Back In Town', 'Dancing In The Moonlight', 'Emerald' and 'Still In Love With You' but Lizzy's audience love the routines of 'Bu Bu Bu Bu Bu Bu Baby' and 'Sha Na Na' and on this final trip I couldn't begrudge them the pleasure. Philip Lynott hasn't lost the touch, the Dublin wit that contributed so much to Lizzy's appeal. As the final curtain loomed he was in his element coaxing, cajoling, teasing and joking his way to the ultimate finale, and especially paying deserved tribute to his old mate, Brian Downey.
A good gig to conclude a long and rewarding relationship with a city: thanks to Philip, Scott, Brian, Daven and newcomer John Stykes.
Thin Lizzy may be no more, but Philip Lynott himself will undoubtedly return. For which, much thanks.