In 1990, a college classmate gave me a tape of an album by a new Dublin band which he had bought but did not think much of; I gave it a listen and it blew me away. It was 'Immigrants, emigrants and me' (a title just as appropriate in Ireland now as then at the end of the bleak 1980s) by Power of Dreams, who were only an average of 18 when they recorded it. On the surface it was conventional guitar pop with a fondness for the loud-quiet-loud cycle, but somehow it worked its way into my head and my heart, with a clear maturity belying its creators' youth and a recurrin lyrical sadness, and tunes that burrowed into your consciousness and made themselves at home.
I went to see Power of Dreams at least once then, when I moved to Cork in late 1990, in the gone-but-not-forgotten club called Sir Henry's, when I thought they were great but way louder than on record. I also bought 'Positivity' and '2 Hell with Common Sense', their next albums, which both had good songs but did not match the majesty of the debut.
Years passed then, as they do, and I thought frequently and fondly of Power of Dreams, and on several occasions made efforts to find their classic debut on CD, scouring shops and websites to no avail. I even tried to use one of those yokes for transferring cassettes to MP3 to recover my overworn tape, but the sound was crap. Then, around a year ago, I checked (as I had many times before) iTunes to find 'Immigrants' and 'Common sense' there, and bought both in an instant before it turned out to be a mirage or hallucination. They were back in my life in proper sound quality and I listened quite a bit to the former over the months since.
Then, last December, I found them on Myspace, as I started to dabble there myself, and through their page discovered they were playing the Pavillion in Cork on the date I now call 'last night', and of course I went, bringing a friend new to their charms.
Support was provided by Tallulah does the hula, hu I knew my name only, but actually really liked, despite them being of a sort that does not feature much on my iPod: spiky, (almost) all-girl, old-fashioned (sixties meets eighties?). They swapped instruments, vocal duties and perhaps clothes (or maybe I was just confused) throughout, with 2 synths front and centre giving the sound a richness and their drummer was excellent. They were not favoured by a sound mix which buried the vocals too low (a problem also encountered by the headliners) but I was definetely impressed and want to find out more. A clip of them (no idea of the song name but it was one of their best of the evening) follows (apologies for faily poor video quality, as I had a great view from a seat on the balcony, but the N95's video zoom was somewhat stretched):
They started with a blistering 'The joke's on me' and the years fell away; assorted other cliches could be inserted here to make the point that they sounded just like they did back then. By the third song it had dawned on the that they were playing 'immigrants' IN ORDER, which seemed quite wonderful to me (although this rule became far more flexible as the gig went on and other songs were inserted, one was moved earlier, and the best was kept for last). Anyway, the first POD clip I have is 'Does it matter?':
They then came to one of my favourites, which is 'Never told you', which began this time with a savage drum assault (their drummer was superb throughout), and which I always love for starting very heavy (I think singer Craig Walker may have introduced it with some line about Megadeath), rising to a soaring chorus, and the slowing to a really cool vocal interplay towards the end. It cruises with uttter confidence through several songs in 3 minutes, and I always loved it:
Around that point in both album and gig came 'Stay', which in many ways encapsulates their sound, with guitars roaring but always in perfect fealty to the melody and vocals:
Later came the slowest and loveliest moment of both gig and CD, 'Maire I don't love you', which always struck me as having lyrics far more convincing and lifeworn than their years suggested possible:
The later stages of the gig included far more non-Immigrants material (only one of which was not familiar to me), including the great 'Untitled' from '2 Hell with Common Sense', and a song which definetely included a lyrical snatch of the Cure's 'Just like heaven' ('show me how you do it, and I promise you, I promise you, I'll run away with you') and, on the same theme, a rather unexpected cover version of the wonderful 'There is a light that never goes out' by the Smiths.
They did two encores, one of three songs and one of two, and, as I have hinted before, kept the finest wine of all for last, launching into a version of '100 ways to kill a love' which lifted the roof off:
It seemed clear to me that the audience were mainly men like me who, of an age like me, who got the albums at the same time as me, and may even been in Sir Henry's with me those years ago. This was an audience of long-time fans reconnecting with their youth and, much as I would have loved more young fans to be there and discover how this sort of music can sound when it is really really done right, there was a lovely sense of pride and nostalgia there last night which I found quite touching. Many songs had full audience participation vocally, from folks who knew every word, and I suspect some of those jumping up and down near the stage had not done that for quite a while. The clip of '100 ways' above captures some of this, which really reached its climax as the gig did.
Afterwards, I went mooching for merchandise and met Craig (I missed a CD of the anniversary version of 'Immigrants', with demos, B-sides etc, which I must now hunt for, but did get his solo album and their long-lost final CD from 1994). He was very nice as I unloaded some Murphys-stoked nostalgia on him, and told him that if they had only played 'She's gone' (from 'Common sense') it would have been perfect, but it really was close to perfect. He also said they would release some new material next year, so maybe it is not too late for the new generation to find out what they never knew they were missing.
Well done lads, welcome back, and thanks for bridging the gap from now to then.
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