Lankum
Royal Hospital Kilmainham, Dublin
★★★★★
Lankum’s ascension seems fantastical. This Dublin-based band navigates an unusual crossover between 19th-century Irish folk and avant-garde drone music – genre outliers, both of them. But, this past Saturday saw them as the marquee act of their very own music festival, riding on the wave of praise for their fourth, Mercury Prize-nominated album, False Lankum.
Their journey thus far is a beacon of inspiration. The foursome – Ian and Daragh Lynch, Radie Peat and Cormac MacDiarmada – appeared touched by the warm welcome they were given as twilight fell upon Kilmainham, sending shivers down everyone’s spine. Despite their stated distaste for festivals – fresh from the Primavera in Barcelona, where they rubbed shoulders with artists such as Lana Del Rey and SZA – they were happy to make an exception for In The Meadows. They personally handpicked talented Dublin singer John Francis Flynn and seasoned indie musicians Mogwai to share the stage.
Despite Lankum’s aversion to such settings, the expanse and majesty of an outdoor venue magnificently complements their unconventional folk sound. They immediately plunged into the profound with Go Dig My Grave – a collateral relative to the historical 17th-century murder ballad Barbara Allen, covered by the likes of Joan Baez, Bob Dylan and Art Garfunkel (and even featuring in a 1951 Warner Brothers cartoon with Porky Pig).
With an epic and primitive quality, Peat’s mournful vocals and the swelling unease from the rhythm section, it resembles a Godzilla-sized elegy. Even out in the Dublin open air, it packs an unsettling power. As the final note resonates and eventually fades, you’re surprised to discover you had been unwittingly holding your breath.
Lankum’s capability to effortlessly oscillate between enchanting allure and startling apprehension is remarkable. The impressive majesty of stadium rock resonates in their piece ‘Clear Away In The Morning’, as if the substance of Brendan Behan was infused into the timeless Pink Floyd track ‘Wish You Were Here.’ It’s not just all about the music; political statements are also a part of their performance. A Palestine flag is visibly mounted on their stage and the condemnation of “Zionists in Brussels” comes up during Ian Lynch’s lead-in to ‘The New York Trader,’ a tale of associating with killers.
With fervor in his heart, Lynch is an adept conversationalist. He insightfully describes DK Gavan’s 19th-century jig, the Rocky Road to Dublin, as a symbolic representation of Irish nationhood – encompassing aspects of excessive drinking, rioting, enduring miserable thoroughfares, and historical conflict with the British. He asserts that the impacts of colonization are overwhelmingly negative.
Adding to the entertainment, Lynch repeatedly articulates “Dublin” in a transatlantic accent. His bold assertion, “Dublin, the finest city in the whole damn world” is humorously countered by his brother, Daragh, who dismissively responds with “Alright, Bono.” Lynch playfully carries on this banter, taking a playful swipe at the U2 frontman with a “West Brit” reference.
Their gig sees a few guest artists, specifically their producer John “Spud” Murphy who stays throughout, and Cormac Begley, a musician from West Kerry, who jumps in for ‘Master Crowley’s’. This track commences as a traditional romp before evolving into a pulsating barrage of disharmonic tones and flashing lights.
The ambiance they create is thrilling yet eerily unnerving. The encore continues this atmospheric tension with a potent interpretation of the ballad, The Wild Rover. Reimagined as a turbulent lament, Lankum’s artistry is emphasized by dramatic strobes and swirling fog. They stand as defiant flautists at the entrance to inferno, making this gig an enthralling experience from start to end.