Reviews

Review from gig at Whelans, Dublin 16th July 2009 by Declan White.

Like, it’s a drizzly July night in Dublin, and easy to park on Wexford Street. The summer is wetting, recession rains, but there is always bits of brightness to warm the soul.

The Missus and me have a date up the laneway to Whelans to see, hear, and hear again, Ireland’s Lone Ranger out there roaming the plains of romance, and riding “like the one-eyed jack of diamonds with the devil close behind”. We can’t wait to hear Philip; problem is he doesn’t play his hometown Dublin enough.

At the door the open-faced promoter Derek Nally smiles. We are lucky to get a table near the stage and we are early, well earlyish. We join three friends, we are all fiftyish, and some late fifties, but we are not the oldest here. Whelans is a lady of a place, a cosy gig and a homely audience is filling fast with mixed bags of twenty year olds to old age pensioners. All the tables are filled with expectant fans. They line up at the bar, down the stairs, along the walls, all willingly getting ourselves hypnotise by the banter and virtuosity of Philip Donnelly. He is dressed in cowboy boots, jeans and a blue Hawaiian shirt he got from John Prine, who has a similar shirt, both wanted to dress in identical shirts for the gig, but alas John called off to help a friend through an illness.

Naturally some customers are disappointed but Philip is more than enough to fill any evening in any club, theatre or arena. Philip begins telling us about his time with Donovan. Then he is in Hollywood, with monster movie star Boris Karloff living upstairs. Then Philip is writing songs for Johnny Cash, John Prine, Donovan, Roger Cooke, Kyle Lovett, Johnny Winter, Nanci Griffiths....

The audience lap up Philip’s tales about working with them or Willie Nelson covering his songs, then it’s the Everly Brothers, whom he brought back together, and toured the world with. Philip has sat on the shoulders of A-list legends and astounded them with his playing. He co-penned Troubled Times, Crystal Gayle’s number one hit and Philip’s gold discs include the biggest Country single of all time I Believe In Love by Don Williams. Philip is now living near the Rock of Cashel in Co Tipperary and far too rarely do we get this maestro recluse back to the capital.

Philip has a following in Dublin. I was at a July four party in Sandycove when a well oiled mature man began praising to his inebriated pals the mightiest guitarist in Ireland, one Philip Donnelly. I butted in, told him about this gig. Sure enough at the bar is the mature man, and again well oiled. He must be seventy; he has to be at least sixty five. And he is in awe of Philip. For Philip is master craftsman who hones joyous moments for his audience with a guitar that takes the mind away, stops the thinking, the worries, stops the daily tick-tock of the mind. Philip spins friendly wave after wave of emotions. He plays a guitar that breaks my mind into a merry empty space.

I am not qualified in any shape or form to write a review of such a marvel that is Philip Donnelly. I am no critic. I am only into the plain delight that I receive from his music. And the Missus is enjoying it too. She is smiling, swaying, moving her hands enchantingly around and she is whistling stridently at the end of each number. We float on the weaving waves of pure pleasures zooming from Philip’s gifted fingers.

At one stage between numbers Philip dips his fingers into a pint of water to cool them down. He say this town is so hot he has to cool his fingers. A woman behind us says: “I am cold”. Her male companion advises her wisely: “it will hot up”. And Philip does just that. What a guitar! I am thinking, Philip is a real man’s guitarist when I overhear a lady say: “If Philip plays his woman the same way he plays his guitar, lucky woman”. And what a voice. The moment Philip’s spraying lips touch the microphone his voice kidnaps our heartstrings. It’s all uphill waves of emotional highs and sensual slipstreams. He gets us right in there. Again no more tick-tock of the mind. We are swaying, following Philip as he leads us through the trenches of pleasure. Well somebody has got to be in them, in this time of depression going down.

Philip’s songs are truly evergreen in that they are so relevant to today. That diamond song These Troubled Times sounds like it was written on the way to this gig: “Brings you down to buy a paper, if you read between the lines, no one seems to have the answer, living in these troubled times”. He touches the rawness of present day ills and the pitfalls befalling us all with words that rhyme with reason. Philip has the answer to the downer depression, when he sings: “It takes a man, it takes a woman, it takes your heart and it takes mine, it takes love to be forgiving, living in these troubled times”. You can see in the make of this man’s face that Philip has lived a life with a multiple of enriched experiences more than most of us humans, and still he sings with compassionate sweetness: “Even though we aint got money, I am so in love with you honey everything will bring a chain of love, in the morning when I rise bring a tear of joy to my eyes and tell me everything is gonna be alright”. And then Philip’s fingers walk and his guitar amplifies those romantic lyrics, and Mister Donnelly is again plucking our heartstrings. Man but does this guitar fly between the humours banter breaks, my his strings levitate our spirit, up and away, we soar chasing his ever rising plucking wonder: “I’m going to Kansas City, Kansas City here I come, They got a crazy way of loving there, and I’m gonna get me some”.

And, between his hilarious rap, he does romance us. Between two thumping electric suites Philip mixes a solo acoustic set on his 1961 Guild acoustic, the guitar he used for recording in Nashville as it gives no hums or buzzes.

Philip is joined on stage by Republic of Loose Mike Pyro who delivers the George Jones song He Stopped Loving Her Today with such power that his voice blows every lucky one in this audience away. His huge voice has us all hooting and howling for more. They follow with a Blues song just off the top of their heads, there is no arrangement, but what an ecstatic thrill to listen to. Thin Lizzy drummer Brian Down guests at the end for two numbers. Time is chucking along and Philip is pushing out such creation as he hunkers over his guitar, he last 1957 Fender Stratocaster made. Philip has been sipping pints of water, towelling himself down. He calls for a tequila before getting into another gem of a number. At the next break he again hails the barman: “I wasn’t joking. It’s not part of the act. I would like a Tequila, please, hold the salt and lemon.”

Philip’s side kick and production manager Jimmy Hickey (famous who has work with Christy Moore, Planxty and Elvis Costello) arrives with a Tequila. Philip knocks it back. A bespeckled man with shoulder length hair politely places a Tequila, a double or treble by the looks of it, on the stage next to Philip and courteously without waiting for thanks, departs. Someone else brings another Tequila. Philip says he wanted one Tequila and now he has five.

After a few more numbers Phillip is in fine form to meet his audience in the bar after the gig. Now he is like a host at hooley, greeting, hugging, and slugging his pint. The Missus and I hold hands as we say goodnight to Philip. He is at the bar surrounded by smiling faces, laughing bodies, contented people with pints swirling about like guitar chords rapidly plucked and gulped down. I tell him great gig. Philip says: “I just discovered I have a MySpace page. I have had it for a year but I never looked at it until today. Eric Clapton is my friend and Sinead O’Connor. I never knew she was my friend. I never spoke to her. We just hiss at each other.”

The Missus tells Philip what a great gig tonight. Philip, hugging a pint of Guinness like it’s an eggcup hiding in his powerful fingers, leans his cuddly frame around us, grins, and says: “the gig is to tell them I am still alive”.

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