Review: Stiff Little Fingers
The Academy, Dublin
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Monday May 25 2009
JUST before Stiff Little Fingers clamber onto the Academy stage, a few of the ageing punks in the audience pay a quick visit to the loo. And amidst the studded leather jackets, the skinheads and the mohawk hairstyles, there is an almost eerie sense of order and civilisation.
One punter pipes up. "This is the most polite punk crowd I've ever seen!" he exclaims, to an amused chuckle. He's right. It's a long time since the heyday of the Ulster outfit, and in the intervening years their fans have calmed down, grown up and become a part of the system which they once hated with such venom. Economic booms will do that to you, after all.
It would be difficult to say the same of their idols, though. Still boasting as much energy as any bunch of young guns on the circuit, the band crack through their back catalogue and new material with a passion that quickly riles the room up to its punky prime; an early rendition of 'Is That What You Fought The War For' sees the crowd rise from its collective emotional slumber.
Who cares if the songs are composed of the same two or three chords, or if there's about as much melody throughout the night as there might be in a particularly dour hymn session? It's not about any of these things. Instead, the sense of anger and frustration with the world -- more fitting of its era now than it has been for years -- is allowed to take the driving seat for the night.
Rants from the stage about irksome and unpopular subjects -- from the Ryan report to racism, from Simon Cowell to politicians' expenses -- are greeted with predictable but impassioned screams.
After years of bland, Celtic Tiger satisfaction, this is an audience who just revel in being angry again -- and there's no better band than Stiff Little Fingers to facilitate the release of this bottled-up venom.
- Aidan Coughlan
