Gig: Damien Rice @ The Palais 19/02/07

A gig at the Palais is a rare treat. Okay, so it is not so rare, but it is rare that I end up going to one. It is a grand venue; cavernous, but in a luxurious kind of way. It takes a special artist to fill the space and I was quite concerned that a little Irishman from Dublin with a penchant for quiet folk-rock would be swallowed whole. He was anything but.

We arrived just about in time to miss the whole of the support act, a little Irishman from Dublin with a penchant for folk-rock, who was being unceremoniously swallowed. The theatre was like a giant sweat box and and the vinyl seats weren't helping the situation. Luckily we had a walkway at our feet so there was stretching room aplenty.

The stage was pretty barren. A piano and a keyboard, some scattered guitars and a chair or two. The whole scene was backed by a giant white screen. When the lights dropped and a scruffy little man walked out it could have been easy to mistake him for a roadie. He did nothing to dispel this when he stood with his back to the audience and started tuning one of the guitars. The tuning gave way to a song, an idling tune, which he seemed to be playing until he felt ready to turn around.

But he didn't.

With his back to the audience he crouched over as the idling tune grew into a fully fledged opening song. Huddled over, caressing his guitar, he began singing into the hollow, his voice echoed in the box and flooded the auditorium. It was truly haunting. Here was this man hunched over his instrument, seemingly retracting from the world and he was able to hold a sell-out crowd enthralled. When he finally turned and stood and took his place centre stage the crowd erupted. It was a brilliant opening and it segued beautifully into one of his most treasured numbers, 'Volcano', as his band joined him on stage.

There were clear cheers of relief when the crowd acknowledged Lisa Hannigan, Rice's recording partner to the stage. She cut an interesting figure as she sang, her neck stretched, her hands gnarled, but it only seemed to heighten the breathless beauty of her voice.

It was clearly evident that this crowd was in for a good night and that Damien and his crew were not only assured musicians but also willing to have fun and experiment with their music. 'Amie' crescendoed into a roaring feedback loop, which threatened to drop plaster from the Palais' walls only to calm down into a quiet coda of Damien's voice which formed the backing for his next track. Mesmerising.

It was one of those gig where the setlist covered pretty much all the recorded material. Damien's explanations of the stories behind the songs often ventured into the macabre, though there was always a wry smile on his face and despite the sombre mood of the music there was much jesting on stage. The impromptu rendition of 'Blue Moon', which cellist Vyvienne Long broke into when Lisa broke her sound feed, was a delightful treat, as was 'Random Man On The Motorway', which she treated the audience to during one of the breaks.

The middle of the show lulled a little. There was a good deal of interaction with the audience and some listless calls for songs to play but there was always an answer at the ready and Damien's response was never less than superb.

For the closing number Damien was left alone onstage. He wrenched the cords and cables from his guitar and kicked them from his feet. He moved to the front of the stage, out of reach of the microphone and stood in the light of a single follow spot. Everything else went black as he once again took on the crowd single-handedly, without any sonic protection, and sang his biggest hit, 'The Blower's Daughter' to the adulating crowd. It was quite transcendental (or it would have been if it weren't for the fucking cameraphones).

Oh, I shouldn't complain because if it weren't for cameraphones I couldn't show you this:



I haven't been able to find a setlist for this one either but I'll post it here if one pops up.

*UPDATE* Setlist:

‘Never Been In This Place Before’
Volcano
Amie
9 Crimes
Coconut Skins
Dogs
Rootless Tree
Random Man on the Motorway (Vyvienne)
Cannonball
Cold Water
Hallelujah
The Professor
I Remember

Rainy Night House (Lisa unaccompanied covering Joni Mitchell)
Delicate
[Blue Moon]
The Animals Were Gone
Blower’s Daughter

Thanks to realityescapeartist for the pic