House of Pain

HOUSE OF PAIN/SCARY EIRE (The Tivoli, Dublin)

FOR A drunken moment, I could have sworn I was on the terraces at Landsdowne Road rather than jockeying for a few square feet of space on a Tivoli dancefloor that's so packed I'm sure someone's attempting to get into the Guinness Book Of Records.

Everywhere you look there are Irish scarves, hats and soccer jerseys, all accompanied by sporadic outbursts of "Olé, Olé, Olé" and the sort of wild abandon that's normally reserved for last gasp Tony Cascarino equalisers. And this is before either of the bands have taken to the stage!

Scary Eire arrive to a hero's welcome from their hometown following but are too loose, sloppy and, quite possibly, inebriated to maintain the momentum. The crew's much vaunted 'message' is lost in the mix as they indulge in a game of 'Who can shout loudest' and generally try to out-macho the headliners.

If you'll forgive another footballing analogy, the difference between the two outfits puts me in mind of the recent tussle at Tolka Park involving Shelbourne and Spurs. Shels had the right gear on, they ran round as if their lives depended on it but, at the end of 90 minutes, it was obvious who the premier league side were. The same's true of Scary Eire - for all their commitment and enthusiasm, there's no sign tonight of the natural ability they're going to need if they want to rise above the status of also-rans.

House Of Pain, on the other hand, are seasoned pros. Sure, their dissing is dumb, arrogant and often downright offensive, but they do it with so much conviction and laddish enjoyment that it's impossible to resist. To them, Dublin represents "the motherland" and there's no way they're going to poop the homecoming party that's being thrown in their honour. Relentless touring with the likes of Faith No More and L7 has paid handsome dividends - the raps are tighter than your proverbial mallard's posterior and Everlast and co. display a skill in working the crowd that only comes from endless one-night stands.

'Guess Who's Back?', 'Put On Your Shit Kickers' and a particularly incendiary 'Feel It' are among the early highlights with the lads staying true to the Shamrock & Shenanigans versions, save for the oft-repeated 'Yo, Ireland!' which provokes an increasingly hysterical response every time it's uttered.

If the joint was nicely cooking beforehand, the lid completely blows when that familiar 'Guns Of Navarone' sample kicks in and everyone adheres to the request, nay order, to 'Jump Around'. Thank God I learnt how to pogo during the punk wars; this cross-cultural collision between Jamaican ska and L.A. hip hop takes no prisoners.

You'd hope that a song called 'Top Of The Morning To Ya' would have a sense of its own irony and, sure enough, House Of Pain's latest single finds them with tongues firmly planted in cheek and other handy parts of the anatomy.

While the show is undoubtedly a triumph, it does raise a couple of questions that require a prompt answer. First off, this appears to be very much a one-trick act and the lack of anything even remotely resembling variety doesn't bode well for their next album. And then, there's the small matter of charging punters £9.50 for a set that clocks in at a shade under 50 minutes. Hardly what I'd call value for money.

Still, when Irish eyes are smiling and bottoms wiggling, I'm prepared to forgive a lot.

• Stuart Clark