Live Report: Mon Rovîa meditates on hope and community at Vicar Street

Mon Rovîa’s Dublin stop at Vicar Street last night was one of contemplation, togetherness, and radical joy. The Afro-Appalachian folk singer brought warmth and a sense of ease to the tense political moment, as he sang a mix of old songs and new ones from his debut album, Bloodline.

The evening opened with an amuse-bouche from English solo act The Man The Myth The Meatslab, who played an acoustic set with humour and heart. Between songs, he joked about his vegetarianism and mused about his post-show snack prospects (“I’m big into oranges at the moment—does anyone know if they’re in season?”). His heartfelt voice recalls the tones of Medium Build and Del Water Gap, with an occasional growliness that brings to mind an early Bon Iver.

“One thing I’ve noticed about Ireland is that everyone is innately musically gifted,” he said, inviting the audience to sing along to the pining lullaby ‘Crushed’. “I just love how important music is over here and how it brings communities together.” As the crowd repeated the chorus of “all I want is you forever,” that sense of community was keenly felt.

The energy shifted from dusky to dawn-like, as Mon Rovîa and his three-piece backing band came to the stage, striding forth under the shining neon light of a dove insignia. They began with ‘Jester in the Bowl’, a yet-to-be-released song about the unceasing nature of war and the desire to be set free from it. Mon’s smooth and sincere voice brought a tenderness to the tune, and Tyler Martelli’s harmonica work contributed to its soulful feel.

That soulful spirit was tangible throughout the band’s 17-song set. Mon Rovîa showcased his vocal prowess and ukelele skills with a quiet flair, completely present with the crowd. Though the atmosphere was worship-like, Mon positioned himself not as a preacher but as a member of the community, like anyone else in the room. It’s not often you witness a performer so humble and clearly awed by the presence of the audience. The audience, too, seemed awed, rapt with attention as Mon spoke between songs.

“A lot of my life has been a search for my own history,” Mon explained. The singer was adopted from Liberia (his stage name is taken from its capital city) during its civil war, and he expressed his struggle with survivor’s guilt for having escaped the war zone. He addressed his biological parents on the steady, somber ‘Whose face am I’: “Hey Maria, won’t you come down? I’ve been waiting far too long.”

‘Day at the soccer fields’ also saw Mon bringing an adult perspective to his traumatic childhood experiences. He made sure not to dwell too long on hardship. Instead, he expressed the importance of “gathering the nutrients of the pain and then burying it” before starting on the introspective ‘Old Fort Steel Trail’.

For the jaunty ‘Field Song.’, Mon called to the stage Thomas Mulligan and Derek Copley. The two Irishmen, whom Mon and the band met at the Cobblestone the night before, accompanied the song on the banjo and guitar. This joyful, semi-improvised collaboration was a highlight.

Keyboardist and guitarist Sam Hudgens took lead vocals for the first verse of ‘crooked the road.’, Mon Rovîa's viral 2024 anthem on the winding paths of life. As Mon joined him for the second verse, the two harmonised with grace, and their camaraderie was felt.

After a rousing round of “olé, olé, olé” from the audience, Mon and the band returned for an encore. Fan-favourite love song ‘Rust’ and meditation on the American South ‘Somewhere down in Georgia’ exemplified the signature sincerity and emotional maturity of Mon Rovîa's songwriting.

Before his final song, Mon Rovîa took a moment to reflect on a John Curran poster he’d seen earlier that day, which read: “The price of liberty is eternal vigilance.” He implored the audience to take these words to heart, saying, “Stay aware, use your sentience, and never close your eyes to the injustices around the world.”

As the band closed out the show with ‘Heavy Foot’, there was a palpable solidarity in the air. Audience and band alike joined in to sing the chorus: “And the government’s staying on heavy foot, and they try to keep us all down, no, they’re never gonna keep us all down.”

Mon Rovîa, with his impenetrable hope in the face of injustice, has created an space where, even for just a brief moment, that statement can ring true.