Sunday 28/10/07 Fionn Regan, Slow Club @ King Tuts, Glasgow

Fortunes they a changin' for the charming Dublin singer-songwriter who's debut 'The End Of History' garnered a Mercury nomination, paving the way to this sell-out tour that sees Fionn returning from the States. The word is getting out there, and whilst the recordings endear with their lyrical symbolism, it takes the firing of the kiln of live performance to bed these songs firmly in consciousness. 

Sheffield support act Slow Club bring a bundle of fun and good cheer, warming the cockles of the heart with milk-fed romantic ditties and naive melodies. Slow Club comprise of Rebecca the lush blond - whacking away with the spoons and boshing chairs and anything that makes for a drum, and Charles the handsome young chappie with strumming melodies, bringing an acoustic jaunt and sweet rhyming songs for lovers, a glimpse at the latest single 'Me and You' - "...look me up in the phone book/ between me and you..." nothing short of fresh and delightful, with a good turn at hilarity -"...I will never call you a pig...", and this duo really have a great act together, shaped like a spirited two-piece Magic Numbers.

Gracing the stage alone, Fionn Regan sports the drainpipe jeans beatnik look complete with a troubadour mouthorgan, opening to a respectfully silent audience with the lyrical beauty of 'Hey Rabbit' - "...hey badger/ you've had it/ your mouth is around an aerosol can...", Fionn's songs possessed of a lyrical beauty that sits in some imaginary landscape of the mind - the mills, punched out rabbits, the girl who collects shells returning back to the coast, the industrial yarns where my father did work. Pulling up the trousers of a couple of new songs with the rock 'n' roll of 'Coathook' - "...let me be your picket fence..." with the accompaniment from two drummers and an acoustic bass guitar delivering a contained folky charm, and the more mercurial Bringin' It All Back Home-kind-of-era of 'Toadeaters'. 'Underwood Typewriter' lifts the lid on the folk with the pitter patter drumming played stick-less "...I draw a line from A to B...my mind is so confused/ I climb back on top of you...", with engrossing rhythms bolstered by an assured earnestness.

Erstwhile Glasgow audience assistance is called upon in naming some of the local parks to lend locale to the penny arcade of 'Put A Penny In The Slot' - Queen's Park, Victoria Park, Maxwell Park, Celtic Park (Sceptic Park, er, OK, let's not go there!), leading to Fionn's wry humorous turns as he tells how he wouldn't like to be up here at night and meet in the park due to audience indecision - "you'd be ****ed! It'd be just as bad as going to Philadelphia and saying I'll meet ya at the fountains - cos there's ****ing hundreds of them". 'Catacombs' and 'Cowshed' with various singalongs win over the audience and explanations of 'Medicine Chest' helps understand the genesis of this song, even if it seems musically misshapen, whilst 'Hunter's Map' with Roland keys and "...biting at your heels..." proves to be Fionn's musical and lyrical feast with a request for "hey hey's, when that happens". Fionn lets on that 'Snowy Atlas Mountains' is a song about sibling rivalry, and asked whether he's been there replies "no but I've been to the Pennines. Put a Pennine in the slot", and beguiles with a poetic beauty that reaches deep into some bank of ancestral memory that floors the audience with his craft and a female band member on bell chimes.

'Bunker Or Basement' feels accomplished with its gentle lilt and subtlety, yet an encore of the new track 'House Detective' reprises the Subterranean Homesick Blues/Maggie's Farm comparison with a jaunty tune and "...don't **** with me if you ever come back this way...". A semiotic aside - asked what he keeps in his wee panier case, "the crown jewels?", Fionn goads - "No! I've got your confirmation photos in there" with quick sharp and engaging banter. A closing with 'Be Good Or Begone' tells the tale of just how many fans are in the audience - with harmonies from the audience choir as Fionn sings without mic, allowing for a touching close to a truly magical and memorable performance. Performances linger in the memory, yet Fionn's work hurdles pop and remains art.