Live Report: The Mary Wallopers command a raucous, righteous trad takeover of Fairview Park

Few bands would dare follow a cultural juggernaut like Kneecap merely a night later on the same stage, but The Mary Wallopers are no ordinary group.

From making their name in sweaty late-night sessions in Dundalk pubs to commanding tens of thousands of fans in ecstasy at Glastonbury within a few short years, the modern folk group brought their signature blend of raucous energy, black humour and uncompromising sound to Fairview Park.

It is no surprise they are considered one of the best live acts in the business.

Within minutes, the massive circus tent was transformed into their local pub. They played with the same punchy banter, fiery intensity and connection as if it were still their first gig, pints in hand, delivering a masterclass in rowdy precision.

Fan-favourite bassist Róisín Barrett emerged in a Palestine-coloured skirt to roaring cheers. "That's a dangerous-looking group of people now," Andrew Hendy greeted the crowd, promptly followed by his brother Charles: "It's hot, it's sweaty, and full of cunts who love stout!"

They kicked off with 'Bold O'Donoghue', the opening track from their last record Irish Rock N Roll, and the tent erupted. Then came the first of many wry song intros: before 'The Rich Man and The Poor Man', Charles dedicated the track to the death of "Brian Thompson, CEO of a health insurance company," a reference to the infamous Luigi Mangione case.

"This next song's about three things: drinking, riding, and fishing," Charles announced before the banjo-heavy 'The Holy Ground' sent seismic shockwaves through the 8,000-strong crowd.

As the night peaked, bodies bounced on shoulders. In a time where most young crowds are conditioned to dance to pop remixes, the "drop" here came from the kick of a banjo, organ and tin whistle - a cathartic release!

A stripped-back rendition of 'Smuggling the Tin' - Liam Weldon's haunting ballad - saw Andrew and Finnian O'Connor's uilleann pipes hush the tent to awestruck stillness. But the silence shattered when the lyric To hell with the border, we're in the Free State rang out, and the crowd roared as if it were gospel.

A brief, sarcastically irreverent nod was paid to former guitarist and co-founder Seán McKenna, who left the band in March to focus on other projects. "He couldn't stick us any longer," teased Charles, sparking a sing-song improv between the brothers on the lyrics of ‘Rothsea-O’. "Seán McKenna is a dirtyyy..."

The Irishness that the Mary Wallopers embraced, with their thick Dundalk accents and their revivalist trad sound, stood in stark contrast with the events that would unfold two days later on O'Connell Street. There, anti-immigration protestors waving tricolours, claimed their own version of Irishness, one where they spewed hatred at immigrants and chanted racist slogans.

Against that backdrop, The Mary Wallopers offered up a different kind of Ireland. Charles reminded the crowd how Irish immigrants had historically been "treated like shit abroad," so "when the government inflames tensions between those born here and those seeking a better life, it's extra important we don't become a nation of racist fucking gobshites."

Their new song 'Colliers' - played live for the first time - was introduced with a sardonic smile: "We clearly haven't been going to the pub enough, because we should've tried it there first." Charles deadpanned: "It's about going out all the time... because there's no point trying to save for a fucking house when the government's wrecked everything."

"Fucking right!" came the yelled affirmations from the crowd. It was a joke, but one that resonated deeply, particularly for the generation heading into their 30s and still living at home with their parents, or in flat-shares.

From start to finish, the band held the crowd in their grip. Ken Mooney's drums punctuated every drop; the banjo-organ-whistle blasts released a tension only trad music, played this loud and loose, can.

By the end, strangers sang shoulder-to-shoulder to 'Eileen Óg' and The Pogues' classic 'Dirty Old Town', spilling out of the tent and straight into the pub, as if the night refused to end.

At a time of growing frustration and division on the island, The Mary Wallopers offered something unique, an unapologetic reminder of Irish music's power. The fact they wield their platform for good, all while delivering a technically brilliant, riotously entertaining show, deserves to be commended.

This is the Ireland that deserves to wave the tricolour.