"We sailed away on a winter's day / with fate as malleable as clay / but ships are fallible, I say / and the nautical, like all things, fades…" The shadow of the harp that dominates the stage drops a line of darkness across Joanna Newsom's face. At times, it leaves just an eye exposed, curling upwards, peering at the ceiling dreamily. To imagine her without the harp is to see the hands weaving beneath that eye as dispersing a magic spell. Perhaps she really is, for what follows is a mesmerising concert that leaves all those seated in the ruby-tinted Sugar Club completely spellbound.

            Once more light spills on stage, we can see her in full: an animated, yet pensive, face sings with a voice that climbs mountainous heights and back within the same line. The new light also projects a silhouette of those very same hands across the velvet curtains behind, turning them into fluttering shadow puppets jailed behind the strings of the harp.

            At once endearing, absorbing, and completely lovable, Newsom quite clearly taps into a higher sense of child-like excitement. After beginning the set (mostly comprised of the songs from her amazing debut LP "The Milk-Eyed Mender") by wandering on stage and putting the audience on the backfoot with an unexpected acapella, at times it was unclear whether Newsom was straddling the harp as if about to climb on top of it, or if it was about to overpower her. Yet, for the crowd, the trance remained unbroken. This truly was something special to see - if only I could get my own Joanna Newsom for Christmas and have her play in my hallway, 24 hours a day…

            Also worth mentioning was the surprisingly excellent support from Fionn Regan beforehand. Dressed like Nick Drake, Regan managed to capture an attentive silence from the crowd early on, seeming to hold everyone's gaze until, eventually, they have to look away first. It's always a pleasure when someone like this plays with such an unassuming quality, leaving you with the impression that you have been to see two concerts. Although I'm always reluctant to draw comparisons, as they are often just dead weight and can do more harm than good, if you can imagine a voice with the same crystal-clear strength as Thom York and Fran Healey, then you wouldn't be too far off. All the signs are there: Fionn Regan has the promise to be a breath of fresh air in an already congested flurry of Irish singer-songwriters; I, for one, hope he fulfils it.

Cian Traynor

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