Damien Dempsey: Almighty Love

Oh Damo, where art thou? That forgettable sports song aside (or offside), it’s been quite some time since we’ve heard any new material from Damien Dempsey. His fifth studio album, stopgap covers collection The Rocky Road, was released four years ago, just as the Celtic Tiger dove headlong off a cliff. At a time when we needed the Donaghmede singer’s brook-no-bullshit take on things more than ever, his creative well seemed to have dried up.
In an open letter to fans posted on his website some months back, the former boxer admitted to losing a bout with depression for a period (“me head was dark and wrecked”) and suffering writer’s block. Thankfully, from his first familiar bellow over the string-soaked intro – called ‘Intro’ – to Almighty Love, it’s obvious he’s got his mojo back. And powerfully so.
Produced once again by John Reynolds, and featuring welcome vocal contributions from Sinéad O’Connor and emerging London performance poet Kate Tempest (who so memorably heckled Chuck D in the Hot Press Chatroom at last year’s Electric Picnic), Almighty Love finds Dempsey more contemplative than angry. Rather than cursing our social and economic woes and raging against the system that caused them, here he actually offers some modest solutions. The opening verses of the title track namecheck the likes of Gandhi, Rosa Parks, Bob Marley, John Lennon, Tony Benn and slain war correspondent Marie Colvin. Although the overall message seems to be one of love, compassion and co-operation, wanker bankers and evil warmongers still get a lyrical going over.
A few neat studio tricks aside there’s no great musical reinvention in evidence: none was required. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Producer Reynolds is a first-rate percussionist and there’s a hard and heavy backbeat driving much of the album, underpinning Dempsey’s often strident guitar playing (you can tell he’s played his share of noisy pub gigs in his time).
While some of Dempsey’s lyrics might seem naive written down, they make perfect emotional sense when delivered in his raw and undiluted Dublin accent. ‘Chris & Stevie’, an ode to two friends lost to suicide, is a perfect case in point: “My buddy Stevie, I loved him well/ We had some laugh, he was sound as a bell/ Our little lives, they ran parallel/ He played with fire and got burnt as hell.” O’Connor’s backing vocal lifts the gorgeously melancholic chorus: “What I would give to see/ You smiling back at me/ And what I wouldn’t do/ For one last laugh with you.”
Set to a thumping reggae-ish beat and featuring a passionate rap by Tempest, ‘Born Without Hate’ is a call to arms against the arms industry. ‘Fire In The Glen’ is a slow-burning ballad with another choice vocal contribution from O’Connor. ‘Community’ does exactly what it says on the tin – a song about the strength and importance of community spirit, replete with jolting blasts of hardcore trad. ‘Moneyman’ is his response to Dylan’s ‘Masters Of War’.
Dempsey’s always been an acquired taste – but it is a taste well worth acquiring. From a fan’s perspective (and this writer is in that camp), Almighty Love proves just about worth the four year wait. We’re cursed to live in interesting times: while Damien Dempsey doesn’t claim to have all the answers, his stories and songs are always worth listening to. This is a powerful album.