By Megan Foulk, Co-Deputy Music Editor
A man of very few words and even less eye contact, hidden under the brim of his cap and mop of dark hair, Fionn Regan settled in for an enchanting evening of alchemy. Almost twenty years since the release of his debut album The End of History, County Wicklow's 'Pied Piper of folk' proved still just as spellbinding on his O AVALANCHE tour, navigating a transcendental journey for the soul and a sound bath for the heart.
Supported by Dublin duo Lemoncello, who's rich, earthy acoustic guitar and cello melodies echo the likes of First Aid Kit and Fleet Foxes, the energy inside Strange Brew was already charged with a swirling tingle pre-Regan's arrival.
As tickets were examined under hushed tones and glasses clinked politely across the bar top, the collective apprehension for the intimate artistic experience that was about to commence tickled at your forearms like sea air.
Staunch under the spotlight, the duffle-coat-wearing Irishman fastened his harmonica to his lips and reached a soft palm into the chest cavern of the room with opener, 'Hey Rabbit'.
Blending poet laureate worthy lyrics, 'no one these days says thank you, when you open doors for them anymore, well, I made you rich and you made me poor', with twinkling, finger-picked melodies and gravelly harmonica, Regan's songwriting deftly unpicks the inarticulable.
Like taking out your heart for inspection, only to be left holding your breath until it is returned, his songs offer the listener a hand to hold whilst you walk through the fire, with the knowledge that a river is waiting on the other side.
Often closing with abrupt imperfect cadence, the entrancing energy of Regan's sound captivates in intense, fleeting moments, gnawing at the depth of your belly before fizzling out like a snuffed flame still warm to the touch.
Rewarding all discomfort with catharsis, 'Babushka-Yai Ya' - from 2017 album The Meetings of the Waters - dissipated some of the heaviness in the room with its driving, mono-syllabic rhythm.
Dedicating a newer track from 2024 album O AVALANCHE to a particularly vocal member of the crowd, 'HEADPHONES', blended the whimsy of Regan's early sound with more hopeful, uplifting sonic embellishments.
Returning to his roots, 'Dogwood Blossom', a hit particularly notable for it's soundtrack use - think Normal People and This Is England '88 - tugged at denial like hot barbed wire around the throat.
'Keep climbing into my head without knockin' and you fix yourself there like a map pin', the softly sung lament speaks aloud everything your own tongue cannot.
Following with second soundtrack favourite 'Be Good or Be Gone', a song so lyrically rich that Welsh actor Rhys Ifans had it tattooed, many mumbled the words softly alongside Regan, numb under his spell.
Disregarding the microphone and moving to the side of stage, the set closed with an unplugged performance of 'Abacus', another favourite from 2006 debut The End of History.
Naked without amplification, the raw, tinny strings and vulnerable vocals re-centred the room, returning everyone to reality.
As if being performed from the foot of your bed, Regan then departed the stage briskly with a gentle nod of gratitude, and I was left wondering if the entire evening was in fact just a dream.
Featured Image: Megan FoulkWhat's the most intimate gig you've attended?
