To Hell Or Barbados

In decades to come, when they’re writing the history of Irish music in the Nineties and Noughties, the name Damien Dempsey is sure to feature prominently.
There’s nobody else quite like him. Unlike certain multimillionaires of Irish rock, the Dublin Northsider doesn’t feel the need to affect a mid-Atlantic drawl when singing his songs. Instead, from 1997’s opening salvo ‘Dublin Town’ to this, his fourth studio album, Damo has clung resolutely to his roots.
So much so that the liner notes feature a glossary of Dublin slang a la Roddy Doyle. Terms such as ‘eegit’, ‘sound’, ‘strung’ and ‘hop off of him’ are all helpfully defined.
The title is taken from the late Sean O’Callaghan’s book of the same name, and refers to the 50,000 Irish men and women sent to Barbados as slaves during Oliver Cromwell’s conquest of Ireland. The song itself comes ninth of 11 tracks, and is one of the most haunting things he’s ever recorded.
Produced by John Reynolds, and featuring the musical talents of everyone from Sharon Shannon and Eamonn de Barra to John McGloughlin and Marco Pirroni, the album doesn’t slot neatly into any one genre. He’s mixing it up between rock, folk, reggae and dance. It doesn’t always work, but more often than not it does.
Ten seconds into the first track, ‘Maasai’, he sounds like a yodelling African tribesman being slowly strangulated. “When I sing, I want to sing/ Sing like a lark as dawn beats the dark/ and let sweet melody set me free.” Ironically, it’s probably the least melodious track on the album.
But, like Guinness and opium, his vocal style is very much an acquired taste. It takes a few listens before you start liking it. A few more and you start loving it. A few more again and you wonder where he’s been all your life.
Okay, maybe that’s overstating the case somewhat, but when he’s good, he’s great.
‘How Strange’ and ‘Your Pretty Smile’ get better with each listen.
‘Serious’ is about peer pressure to experiment with heroin. Sung/spoken in a strong Dublin accent, the song takes the form of a conversation: “Gowan, why don’t you try it out?/ I don’t know, my head’s filled with doubt/ Ah gowan, a little bit won’t hurt/ When you feel the whack of it, you’ll see it’s well worth it/ Gowan, give it a blast, in ten seconds flat, you’ll feel fantastic/Y our head will be like rubber, your body like elastic...”
‘Teachers’ is a reggae-based homage to his various musical influences: “Old Johnny Cash help me walk the line/ Old Bobby Marley how your soul does shine/ Old Woodie Guthrie has a rebel heart/ Old Billie Holliday sings like a lark”.
Ultimately, this album definitely isn’t going to disappoint any of Dempsey’s longstanding fans. For those who don’t quite get him, that’s be their loss – for the man is a true Irish warrior poet, the real deal, a direct descendant of Lynott and Kelly, and a not so distant cousin of Dylan and Marley.
Not that he’ll give a flying fuck what people think of him one way or the other. As he sings on ‘I Don’t Care’, “I don’t care what people say/ I don’t care, they won’t faze me/ I don’t care, just work away/ I don’t care, you amaze me.”
Gwan, ya good ting!