George Murphy & The Rising Sons in Vicar St. was absolute box-office, Hollywood style box office. Indeed, it was akin to watching a Commitments script, fused with a slew of Rocky Balboa and a gob of Top Gun. The audience were mighty too, in early for the fabulous Kiera Dignam, they sang their hearts out with her, on her dad’s iconic anthem ‘Crazy World’. Crikey, you gathered the sense right then, this was going to be no ordinary gig.

And The Rising Sons are no ordinary band. Formed in their local pub from the guts of eternal sessions, they are a murder of eight trigger men playing Trad, Folk and Rock n Roll. It must be some pub, for it’s hard to believe that a group that possess their calibre, all booze in the one shebeen. Led, by the incredible George Murphy, who exploded onto the Irish music scene after his extraordinary appearances on Irish television show “You’re a Star” and got signed to Sony Ireland for his debut album ‘Dreamed A Dream’ which went straight to No.1 in the Irish charts, eventually going on to gain triple platinum status. All at the tender age of seventeen.

But this ain’t no silver spoon tale. His has been a long winding road, to, as he says tonight, “have his name on the ticket” into Vicar St. He and his co-Rising Sons confederate and first cousin David Brown, have for fifteen years played every town in Ireland, often for no money, stamping out their names the hard way, scooping up fans of their sound. Many of those fans have gathered in Vicar St., calling them out by name, lending the show, the sense of those pub sessions that are the band’s DNA.

They open with ‘The Foggy Dew’, the crowd are well up for it, reacting like it’s the encore rather than the first number. And man, George’s voice, as Dublin as the Liffey flowing porter, rouses something within the soul, something that you fathom courses through your Irish being. At song’s end, George says, “Hello Vicar St...I’ve waited for 20 years to say that!”, the crowd erupt and we’re off. For the next two and a quarter hour’s, The Rising Sons, sling song after song over the bar in a set just south of thirty numbers.

Fiscally, it must have been often hard to keep eight boyos on the road, but it’s paying dividends now on the big stage, battle-hardened, they are some outfit, switching genres with ridiculous ease.

George dedicates his tune ‘Hands of Time’ to his daughter Lily, accompanied by David Brown on sublime whistle, who then sings ‘Wild Mountain Time’ in a voice as good as it is different to George’s, crystal clear as opposed to jagged diamond. The Dubliner’s ‘Hot Asphalt’ is a great caper, yes, a common session song, but purveyors of this quality are a rare thing.

Declan Parsons, a man who plays pretty much anything with strings, courageously delivers his own song, ‘Sidney’s Boys’, a song about his ancestors’ involvement in the War of Independence, it receives a hushed reverence, a man walking in front of the stage, carrying a tray heaving with porter, takes the time to bow his head - it’s that kind of night.

George sets up the next song ‘Roise’ by telling us that in lieu of construction work on his house, he paid bodhrán player, Shane O’Hannigan in drum lessons and announces that this is the first time, he’ll play a drumkit live, no pressure, but it’s no bother to him. On ‘Rosie’ electric guitarist ‘Tommy Whelan’ delivers a whiff of Americana, then David Brown serves us a soaring version of ‘Rainy Night in Soho’.

Sean Butler ambles on to the stage like he is wandering in for a pint, and delivers ‘The Star of the County Down’ and ‘Mero’ in a voice worthy of Barney McKenna, I mean, seriously, what were they serving in that pub where these chaps got together? And the fact that George, generously cedes the stage to his collaborators adds to the pub session feel, which is mighty.

The Rising Sons head for pints, George sings ‘Raglan Road’, no living man could match him and really only one man that has passed. For the last verse, he stops playing his guitar, walks away from the mic, sings a cappella, the crowd rightly give him a standing ovation. The Sons arrive back one by one, building Jeff Buckley’s ‘Hallelujah’ to its mounting climax. The crowd now are on their feet applauding each song.

Jimmy Morrison, another man who can play pretty much every instrument ever made, sings Christy Moore’s ‘Motherland’ before violin maestro Sean Regan turns himself into a human beatbox, to the shock and delight of the audience. Crikey, just when you think things can’t get better, he riffs ‘Smoke on the Water’ on the fiddle and duckwalks across the stage!

George introduces ‘Working Class Hero’, telling us it was the first song he ever sang on the Vicar St. stage for a TV show, after which Christy Digman called him, probably to congratulate him, but we’ll never know because George thinking it was a gag, hung up on his hero. They play Aslan’s ‘Chains’ and then George’s big hit from back in the day, ‘Something Outta Nothing’, grimier now and much more fun. Declan Parsons sings Paul Brady’s ‘The Island’, the audience won’t be sitting again. George introduces the band, Joey ‘The Bass’ Hughes, a man who has seen it all, gets one of the biggest cheers of the night.

A pair of songs from their upcoming album ‘You and Me’ and ‘Dublin Inspires’ are not out of place. The bonhomie in the room is now at its zenith, punky ‘Rocky Road to Dublin’ has every soul in the place clapping and dancing. George’s father comes on and throws down a mighty ‘Whiskey in the Jar’. Sean Butler wanders back on for ‘The Rare Auld Times’ and they must be hearing us on O’Connell St. They drop the instruments for show closer, ‘The Auld Triangle’, two men to a mic - cue delirium.

They’ll be back in Vicar St. in May to do it all again, though I suspect, when the news of tonight’s show spreads, they may have to knock out the back wall to fit all the punters in.