Damien Dempsey Live Review

This could have been the most bizarre Damo gig ever: minutes before he was due onstage, forked lightning and monsoon rains sent the people of Scariff scuttling for the safety of pop-up marquees, leaving an empty square and a band hidden behind curtains protecting their equipment from the deluge. Then the lights came on and Dempsey stepped forward, banging on about warriors and love. 
Knots of youths unfurled themselves from sheltered corners, began to occupy the square – and with that, the rain tapered off and stopped.
“I had a swim in Brian Boru’s lake today,” said a grinning Dempsey, whose rider seems to consist solely of the opportunity for a dip in a location close to his performances. He launched into a set peppered with tracks from all his albums, a breath-taking mosaic of hope, despair and desire. The opening felt like an encore as ‘It’s All Good’ and a reggaefied ‘Negative Vibes’ stirred damp hearts and set the crowd dancing for the night. “Everyone needs love,” said Dempsey, “even a gorilla like John.” He pointed at his guitarist. 
The songs and the banter – a blend of life coaching, therapy and voice training – flowed easily as Dempsey called on the crowd to help him out on that difficult track, the rising ‘na na na na na na na’ (you know the one, dammit, about New York). His voice had a special depth on the night as he keened through a raw ‘Maasai’. A solemn note amid the celebration, and a ripple of collective sorrow, directed perhaps at a funeral taking place elsewhere that weekend, of two boys and innocence lost, were pinpointed on ‘Sing All Our Cares Away’. 
“Talk to your friends, watch out for others, be there for those around you,” said Damo, before an emotional ‘Chris And Stevie’. 
Halfway through the evening, guitars were swapped for fiddle and banjo as Dempsey gave several familiar tracks a majestic taste of speedtrad, leaving the crowd gagging for more. Despite the classics, ‘Patience’ and ‘Almighty Love’, ‘Party On’ etc, the highlight was a punky trad arrangement of ‘Kelly The Boy From Killane’, a glorious chaotic rebel ballad. 
The beauty of a gig like this is that everyone is out, shoulder to shoulder, all ages together, and the star of the show – Dempsey aside, of course – was a ten-year-old girl up the front, pogoing all night. The encore? What else but ‘Colony’: surprisingly, the teenagers around me sang every word. 
They don’t teach this shit in school but, hey, the kids learn it anyway.