‘I won’t need to think of nice things to say

I don’t want to want this way anymore

Shh now, here comes silence

From this comes strength, I promise.’

- from ‘Soon’.

These lyrics echo across the venue from the older - perhaps wiser - voice of a boy called Kevin, as he introduces the second half of this suitably epic and joyous celebration of a gig. By this point, the latest incarnation of Dexys have performed the whole of their new album ‘The Feminine Divine’, a suite of songs that straddles the bridge between superego and humility. All songs in order, sequenced to emphasise the transformation that’s taken place in Rowland’s life : that his attitudes towards women have changed, seemingly irrevocably, as he reaches his eighth decade on the planet. For a human previously so obsessed with himself and his own legacy, it is refreshing to meet a man more accepting of his place in the world. Above all, he looks like a zinger in his bright green wide trouser suit and white sailor’s cap, reminiscent of the period between ‘My Beauty’ and ‘One Day I’m Going to Soar.’ He’s always possessed an intrinsic style ; it is just a part of him.

Indeed, the whole band with - as you would expect - no guitars on display, is a picture of contentment, with two keyboardists flanked by a violin player, drummer and brass section - trombone and sax, to be precise. The album is performed, nay ‘staged’, in three acts - ‘Getting Honest’, ‘Attitude to Women’ and ‘The Relationship’, all the while being recorded for posterity. The staging is simple, yet effective and the opening act is replete with undimmed energy, those new songs sparkling in their delivery. Kevin gamely struts around the stage, a more relaxed ball of charisma, yet just as committed to his own way of thinking as he ever was.

There is a vintage feel to the concert, bubbling with hints of modernity, as you might expect from a band that emerged at the tail end of punk and new wave, then went against the prevailing wisdom and grain with their rejection of rock mannerisms and the embracing of a rigorous work ethic. Yet, on this showing, Kevin is unlikely to score points with the opposite sex, despite his change of mood in terms of how he believes women should be treated. The role reversal is polarising, too binary ; yet, you have to admire him for trying. Slightly more cringe worthy is the track ‘Goddess Rules’ that feels stuck in an early 90’s timewarp, its point lacking any real depth and succumbing to banal titillation. Thankfully, this is countered by the restrained yet glorious musicality of the next track ‘My Submission’, recalling the heady days of ‘Don’t Stand Me Down’, where Kevin reveals himself as a true, torch song troubadour, holding and sustaining his notes, reaching new heights of intimacy and vulnerability. The audience responds by staying respectfully silent in a state of awed reverence. Following a simple, melancholy piano line, Kevin reaches a keening falsetto, almost cracking at the top of the note but sustaining the simple longing in the lyrics, backed up by his signature addresses to the microphone.

Rowland’s voice remains a thing of unorthodox beauty : a soul boy who approaches each song with vigour and layers of untapped longing, yet he is ALWAYS in command and control. His penchant for talking to and fro with members of the band is uniquely appealing, exhibiting a stand up comedy feel whilst the world view he projects is a singular one. He is accepting and slightly unsure of himself, all at the same time.

The interval beckons, comes and goes. Kevin emerges and we are plunged headfirst back into history, my own early teenage years, my repeated listening to the soulful tones of ‘Too-Rye-Ay’ on that tape cassette recorder. The memories flood back and hold me in their thrall. I realise that I don’t want this feeling to end : of joy, of truth, of beauty, of that burning I knew about then and still hear now ; that sense of communion among those assembled, reliving a youth, being in a moment. The sound is irresistible. ‘Come On Eileen’ remains a classic singalong, despite its denigrated associations with office Christmas parties. ‘Geno’ has swagger and swing with a restrained rendition of ‘Carrickfergus’ ending this myth-making evening, Kevin’s baritone floating out into the night air, beckoning us home, carrying us with souls afire, grateful and free.

Driving back towards the M4, I listen to ‘Don’t Stand Me Down’ and get lost in reminiscing, realising again that this music is here and will be here for as long as we care about it : and the reasons for that are manifold. Thank you for the music, Dexys. We’ll keep singing the songs.

Hugh Ogilvie.