Fionn Regan

16/02/10 - Brudenell Social Club - Gig of the Week.

By Jack Ready

It would probably be pushing it to claim that Fionn Regan is the most exciting songwriter on the planet right now. That is a position reserved solely for Matt Berninger of the National. But Regan’s certainly up there: he’s the best young songwriter in Britain (though an Irishman by birth). Earlier this month he released his second album, The Shadow of an Empire, and in a marked change from his 2006 debut, he’s gone electric. Yes, the unfavourable Dylan comparisons continue to follow Fionn Regan around like a bad smell, yet as the mannerisms and vocal tells of this performance demonstrate, such comparisons may not be entirely  unwarranted or even unwanted.

An eclectic bunch gather together to observe how Regan’s electrical experiments take shape - an odd mix of clued-in students, a decrepid folk crowd who probably kept buying Pentangle albums after Renbourn and Jansch had left, and the sort of toughs who don’t seem to exist beyond old-school ‘real-man’ pubs and places like the Brudenell. Of the 13 songs played, only four are from his debut, The End of History, and the contrast between these and the more recent material is pretty stark.

The Brudenell proves its worth as a venue during the more raucous numbers, the instruments retaining clarity and the vocals remaining impressively audible and intelligible throughout all but the most aggressive attacks from the band. This is worth bearing in mind given that, in as much as Fionn Regan is essentially a folk musician, things get pretty loud. The set is short, the songs are short and the stage banter is kept to a minimum. The band never miss a beat and Regan hits all the right notes. His genius lies in his lyrical dexterity, his ingenius wordplay and his wonderfully melodic guitar, yet for the majority of the set these traits give way to a drive and efficiency that was not present two or three years ago.

On the older numbers his brilliance shines through all the clearer for it. The band lend sparse accompaniment for the first three of these songs, but Regan emerges alone for the encore of ‘Be Good or Be Gone’, and it’s hard to deny this is when he is at his best - just him, an acoustic guitar and an audience silent, wide-eyed, devotees. On the one occasion a listener does dare to open his mouth he is audibly hushed by a dozen people. This is time to listen. This near-master craftsman is about his work. (9)