Damien Rice, Métropolis, Montreal, Quebec, Canada

After having to stop and reschedule his Chicago show the previous month after only five songs due to illness and the realization that I wouldn't be able to attend the rescheduled show, I opted to fly to Montreal to see the final show of his tour at Métropolis. I had actually been to the venue approximately five years ago for Modest Modest. Except for the balcony, the main part of the venue is all general admission, though there are a few first-come, first-serve standing tables towards the back under the balcony. Given the distance that we had come, I preferred to get a spot as close to the stage as possible.

The doors opened around 6:30pm, and we arrived fifteen to twenty minutes later. We were almost dead center and about eight to ten people/rows from the stage. Considering that the Athenaeum

Theatre has an unutilized orchestra pit, and I was seated a bit off to the side for that show, I was probably about as close to the stage at the Métropolis as I was at the Athenaeum. Also, like at the previous show, there was no opening act. Though Damien Rice was scheduled to take the stage at 8pm, he kept us waiting till 8:35. At his request, the venue closed the bar at the beginning of his show. Since there were many quiet moments throughout the show, for which unfortunately there’s often someone still talking, my guess is he realized that sober people are at least relatively quieter.

As before, he took the stage alone with his guitar, which he sometime played with a pick and other times finger style. While it started as a fairly dark stage with only a single spotlight on him, other lights flicked to life at proscribed times throughout the show, orchestrated in time with the music. So he DOES have a lighting guy. It was even quite bright at times, though never anything more than just plain lights. There were not any colors or imagery whatsoever. He was wearing ‘traditional’ Irish workman’s clothes, as if he had just stepped out of the early 20th century, including suspenders and a collarless button-down shirt.

He started off the show fairly quietly with a few of his concert staples including “Elephant” and “Delicate.” Slipped in between those two was “Woman Like a Man,” a B-Side track. He did these first three songs and many throughout the show with a standard acoustic guitar. He was fairly stoic at the very beginning of his set. It was tough to get a read on him; what kind of night would we be in for? After a few songs, it was clear that he was a different man than he was in Chicago, with a whole lot of energy. Beginning with “My Favourite Faded Fantasy” and used sporadically throughout the set, he utilized effects pedals for some songs to create reverb, an electric guitar sound, or even add a deep bass. The most effective use of this and probably the highlight of the entire evening was a rocking version of “9 Crimes.” Beginning the song acoustically, he let it build for a while, stepping away from the main microphone, hunching over, and actually singing into his guitar mic, something I had never seen before. As the song reached its crescendo, the lights blazed, and he kicked on electric and bass effects. Following “9 Crimes,” which would have been the perfect note on which to end the show, he instead brought it down a notch with “The Greatest Bastard.”

It wasn't until prior to “The Professor & La Fille Danse,” which features a few French lyrics, that he finally spoke to the audience. Though he mostly spoke English, he also chatted a bit in French, much to the excitement of the audience, except for me of course. I felt a bit left out whenever he spoke in French, though only a bit because he never said more than a few snippets. He also carried a glass of saké with him on stage and sipped from it liberally, explaining that he needed to catch up with the excited audience. Before starting the “The Professor & La Fille Danse,” he provided an allegorical explanation of the song’s meaning, “About the complex things that men have deal with. We are burdened with the difficulty…so imagine, that someone gives you a suitcase for your 13th birthday. In that suitcase is a million dollars. You’re told to keep it safe and use it wisely. You put it underneath your bed. The next day you’re thirteen years old and one day and you get another suitcase with a million dollars. You’re told put it somewhere safe and be careful what you do with it. You put it under your bed again. This continues every day. Eventually, there’s no room underneath your bed. So you put it in your wardrobe, but that gets full. Soon your whole bedroom gets full of these suitcases with a million dollars and you’re only 13 years and 27 days old. And you keep on getting told, be careful what you do with it and don’t do bad things with it. And at 13 years of age you’re trying to find what to do with all these millions of dollars. Well, as a 13 year old boy, you get a million sperms delivered into your testicles every day. And you’re told, be careful what you do with those. And don’t use them badly.”

In his banter, he didn't shy away from poking a bit of fun at the audience. When a fan yelled out his support in a moment of relative quiet, he imitated a clapping trained seal. Throughout the evening, he also took audience requests. One of the first songs requested was “Cheers Darlin'.” He responded “I can’t do ‘Cheers Darlin',’ because I’ll be terribly drunk and won’t be able to do anymore songs. So if you want one more song, I could do ‘Cheers Darlin',’ but if you want a few more songs, then I will not. Wine and saké doesn't probably go together anyway.” At the time, I didn't understand the exchange. It would become a bit clearer later in the evening.

I was a bit surprised that fans requested songs from his most recent album, My Favourite Faded Fantasy (2014), almost as much as his previous two. The first accepted request for the evening was “The Box,” from the aforementioned album. Again he explained the meaning of the song. It is about how for better or worse we compartmentalize all that is good and bad in life. “You eventually have to face down the people in your life that are bad for you. This one particular friend criticized everything I did, all the good ideas I had. He was always the first person to put doubts in my mind. So I decided to sit down with him and sort it out. So we sat down, and I walked up to him, and I looked in the mirror, and I said ‘You’ and I sang him this song.”

Following “The Box,” he stepped away from the mic for an unplugged version of “The Blower’s Daughter.” The audience was mostly quiet. He then ended the main set with “Volcano,” for which he invited us to participate. He directed us to snap our fingers in the beginning of the song, which would build to hand claps, then finally to foot stomps for the crescendo. He also broke the audience into three segments. Each was instructed to sing part of the chorus. It was fun, though I've seen artists “conduct” an audience better. Our middle section was having quite a bit of trouble delivering a well-timed “Ah, ah, ahhhhh.”

Following his brief encore break, I was expecting to hear another two or three songs. When he asked for requests, I was one of several people yelling for “Rootless Tree,” which he threw into the set. Though I enjoyed it immensely, he delivered a stripped down version, which I thought would have benefited from being dressed up a bit with some electric and bass effects. I thought that would be the end, and not a bad ending at all, but then he stated, “Maybe I will drink some wine.”

A table and pair of chairs were brought on stage. He asked for a volunteer to join him, one that liked wine and wasn't driving home. He specifically picked up a girl who had previously informed him that it was okay to mix saké and wine, a cute brunette named Angelique. She looked like she was barely old enough to be served a drink. He then proceeded with the narration of a mini-play that was the basis for “Cheers Darlin':” On a night out in the city, a young Irish man accidentally bumps into and knocks over a pretty girl. He insists he buy her a glass of wine to apologize. They get to talking and realize that they live in the same village outside the city. One glass of wine turns to two turns to three. Meanwhile on stage, Damien Rice is pouring each of these glasses of wine for himself and Angelique. The two of them slam down a full bottle in a matter of minutes, after which he requests another from a stagehand. After downing her third or fourth glass, Angelique was having a bit of trouble getting anymore down, instead requesting to sip some of his aforementioned saké. Back in the story, even though our young Irish protagonist doesn't have money for a taxi, he opts to miss the last bus home, hoping that since the beautiful young girl he’s with isn't running to catch the last bus, neither should he. After pointing out that they have missed that last bus home, she replies that her boyfriend is picking her up. Embarrassed and drunk, “Cheers Darlin'” is a note written by the young man to the girl, scornfully wishing her the best with her boyfriend. Having put down his guitar in favor of a glass of wine, Damien sang along to prerecorded music, which included drums, piano, and violin as well as guitar. It was the only instance all evening in which the sound wasn't directly created by him or his guitar. The alcohol he just drank couldn't have worked its way into his bloodstream quite yet, so the slurred words and swaying demeanor during the song were part of the performance.

Given the amount of wine he had just consumed, I thought it would be the end of the show as he had previously threatened, but he was just getting warmed up. If anything the alcohol got him more revved up. After an unplugged version of “Cannonball,” he asked his tour manager at the soundboard what time he was required to stop, clarifying “At what time do I get fined?” I couldn't hear the response. The show continued even though he said it was a bad idea to play after “Cheers Darlin'.”

By this point, he was quite drunk, not Shane McGowan, slurring, stumbling, and smoking a cigarette drunk, but drunk. He was still happy and energetic, just getting a bit more verbose with his stories. For example, “Trusty and True” required a significant amount of humorous explanation, as follows: “Often the most painful things are linked with romance because romance is filled with….bullshit. We grow up with the story of romance, and I was the same. I wrote songs about it and people loved that shit. You know? [In a strained voice, faking being on the verge of tears], ‘Yeah, fuck you!’ I don’t really think that way anymore. I can still sing the songs, but it’s not how I think anymore. But anyway, sex and pain sells, so hey, I can keep writing painful songs….I’m joking, I told you it a really bad idea for me to keep going after ‘Cheers Darlin',’ but hey, last night of the tour and all. So this song is a bonfire, and anyone that has any pain, things their frustrated at, jealousy….jealousy is hilarious. I think people probably do the most stupid, passionate, and crazy things ever because of jealousy. I know I have. This song is a bonfire to throw all those things into and let it go. Angelique, have you vomited yet? You’re fine? [Giggles] I’m fine too [lifts glass]. Tomorrow morning on the plane, I’m not so sure.”

He then started a few bars of “Trusty and True” before again stopping to request for a group of 25 to 30 reasonably talented singers from the audience to join him on stage, offering them the rest of the wine. He quickly taught them the chorus for “Trusty and True” and began again. However, halfway through the song, he stopped again: “Oh by the way, I want you to imagine: If you’re a woman, if you feel like you've been hurt by a man, the truth is you've never been hurt by a man, you've only hurt yourself.” The audience booed, so he clarified, “We all only hurt ourselves. The same applies to men. So if you've been in that situation, imagine these next verses are all the men in the world standing on a hill, singing to all the women in the world. And all the men in the world are going ‘we’re sorry we did our best.’”

Wrapping up the song, he took the time to greet each person on stage with him before they exited. Again I thought it was the end of the show. So did the theatre manager because the house lights came up. We moved from our spot up close toward the back of the venue only discover he still had more in him. I didn't mind though. I could still hear very well but had a different vantage point and a lot more space.

Next, he agreed to sing “It Takes a Lot to Know a Man,” even though he had never done it live and had yet to figure out how to fit all the pieces together in a single performance. Though he admitted that if he was sober, he wouldn't have attempted to it, I believe that sober Damien Rice would have botched just as many of the lyrics as this one.

The show continued with “Back to Her Man,” more or less a song about opening up for Leonard Cohen and witnessing the veteran performer’s effect on women, and a fantastic version of “Me, My Yoke, and I,” more of less about Catholic sexual repression. He played the latter after it was requested by a guy standing near me at the back of the room. When he agreed to play it, he noted that he hadn't done so in about seven years. Naturally, the fan was quite pleased with himself; I would be too. After saying several times that the next song would be the last song of the night only to add in another, he finally ended the evening with “I Remember.” He tried translating it into French, though quite poorly. He finished his performance about five minute after midnight, meaning he played for a total of three and a half hours. Basically, his encore was a full second set, longer in fact by almost 50 minutes. He pointed out that while it might not be his longest show, it was certainly his most elongated. I had been standing for about five hours.

In summary, he did quite a mix of songs including eight of ten songs on O (2002), four songs from 9 (2006), seven out of eight from My Favourite Faded Fantasy, and four B-sides/rarities. He missed a couple that I would have liked to have heard including “Accidental Babies,” “Coconut Skins,” and especially “Eskimo.” No complaints though as it was easily my favorite set of the year.

Setlist:
Elephant
Woman Like a Man
Delicate
My Favourite Faded Fantasy
Older Chests
I Don't Want to Change You
9 Crimes
The Greatest Bastard
The Professor & La Fille Danse
The Box
The Blower's Daughter [unplugged]
Volcano
Encore:
Colour Me In
Amie
Sex Change [Juniper song] [snippet]
Rootless Tree
Cheers Darlin'
Cannonball [unplugged]
Trusty and True
It Takes a Lot to Know a Man
Baby Sister
Back to Her Man
Me, My Yoke and I
I Remember