It has been a long eight years between albums for Damien Rice, and it almost seemed like it would never come. In an interview For the Line of Best Fit, Damien explains why he got so disillusioned about the creative process – I got to the place where I was “free”, it was a little bit like a sailboat, sitting in the middle of the ocean with sails flapping, and going nowhere, and not really knowing where to go either, or what to do about going anywhere. I was in this space. I was indecisive, so free I was miserable. For a musician to be open and honest about the process is humbling and forthright to hear. Damien limited his live performances to a handful of show each year, mostly in Europe and Korea, and the odd unexpected show in his hometown, Ireland, since his last major tour of his 2nd EP, 9. Fans like myself were anxious to hear anything remotely new or to finally hear of new tour dates. It was not until he surprised fans in September on instagram of a picture of a setlist of handwritten new songs on a ledge of a piano and then officially announced his 3rd EP, My Favourite Faded Fantasy, a few days after his instagram post.
There is a certain je ne sais quoi about Damien Rice. I saw him live for the first time the last time he played the very same venue, The Danforth Music Hall, before they tore up all original seats. Seeing him live again only brought back nostalgic feelings and moments of a time in my own life, that’s the interesting thing about music as it can transport you back to a place and time. I can only attest to my own personal experience, but his music has touched me in so many different ways. This is quintessential of who Damien Rice represents and this is what music should be about. It should touch you in some way, no matter who the artist is or type of music he’s playing, it should move you, to the core, to what it means to be human.
In a interview, a musician friend of Damien who played on the record said it succinctly, “while you’re here on this planet, you’re looking for spiritual growth, for unusual and profound, true, raw human interactions and generally be interested in touching people and all those are qualities he (Damien) possesses in space”. Being at a Damien Rice show is to leave your mind behind and being open, vulnerable, and letting you’re guard down. A little bit like a walk into the woods without having a plan of whereabout you’re going but in the end you feel cleansed, free, yearning and having a desire to move on with life. It’s about giving up on any great profundity and being in the present, in the moment and not of a lot of musicians can pull that off live. To say the least, our lives are essentially a collection of moments in time.
It is so easy to drown in heartache, cynicism, romanticism and sentimentalism, that is a lot of –isms, but his music never feels forced, you either succumb to the lush emotionality or reject it, hopefully, the former then the latter. What you can’t say about the artist is that he’s not honest and opened about his life experiences. Being at his show is like having a conversation with a good friend about life, love, and the dealings of living. There is a sensibility when Damien talks or tells stories to the crowd but he often balances this out with humour, it must be the Irish blood in him. Dealing with his own heartaches and messy relationships, Damien at one point, says “love is like chocolate, all consuming then you shit it out”, he laughs. The self-deprecating humour is refreshing and then sometimes he balances it out. For instance, talking about repression and love, he says, “it’s impossible to love anything, out there, if you hate what’s in here”, before introducing a new song, Colour Me In off the new album. I don’t know but I think these are pretty common human truths and in a world filled with so much disconnect, the impossible is trying to connect in this world and for a moment everyone in this room is present, sharing, connecting.
Damien played fan favourites like Amie, Coconut skins, Delicate, Elephant, a layering, sing along version of Volcano, Blower’s daughter and new songs off the new album. From soft falsettos, to booming screams, Damien retains his vocal range, and I heard he had to retrain his voice while working with Rick Rubin on the new album. On My Favourite Faded Fantasy Damien appears to be cuddling away his apathy and turning over a new leaf, stripping away his misery, moving towards some desire to get back to life and living. A yearning, he says, of having no sense of pressure, a total desire that’s really inspiring, and it’s really easy to do things when you’re inspired to do it.
His last song, Trusty and True, he played after slamming his mic on the stage floor, seemed to summed up this nicely. A song about everything and nothing, he chuckles. A momentous song about letting go of things you are clinging to, he says, like if you’re wife is sleeping with your brother, and you haven’t quite forgiven him or it could be your best friend who didn’t sleep with your wife but slept with your brother, so maybe you have a problem with that. Pausing, then laughingly following with, I don’t know what’s wrong with spooning. A song about divides, about hurt and ultimately about sincere apologies and forgiveness. While listening I felt like a tremendous weight had been lifted, partly maybe because out of nowhere a full choir being dimly lit up behind Damien on stage near the end of the song to accompany on vocals (it appears he’s been doing this at other shows recently). A fitting song to end a night that signifies how ephemeral life can be, thank you Damien.
