The Murder Capital in Dublin: A powerful end to the night after a slow start

The Murder Capital

Olympia, Dublin

★★★★☆

It takes a while for The Murder Capital to achieve lift-off as they bring their largest tour to date to a close before an initially muted Saturday night crowd at the Olympia. Faced with an audience seemingly content to sit and watch rather than participate in the epic catharsis that is the Cork-Dublin quintet’s forte, frontman James McGovern comes across exasperated.

He stomps about looking discommoded early in this gripping and pulverising gig. More than once he asks the punters seated upstairs to rise to their feet. Initially, though, there is no rushing of the barricades: most prefer to stretch back.

The Murder Capital have carved out a fascinating space as a sort of negative image of fellow Irish post-punks Fontaines DC. Where Fontaines are a poetically shaggy mess – a glorious spilt pint of a band – the Murder Capital are a rumbling instrument of musical obliteration. Opening with the bulldozing The Stars Will Leave Their Stage, the group’s dynamic is clear. Guitarists Damien Tuit and Cathal Roper raise a howling din. Meanwhile, McGovern, a Leeside live wire with a robust and deep singing voice, jumps around like a Gen Z version of Joy Division’s Ian Curtis. He’s even adopted Curtis’s stage outfit of sensible shirt and slacks. He could pop off for a job interview straight the show and nobody would blink.

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[ The Murder Capital: Gigi’s Recovery – Woozy, nightmarish, nervy anthems ]

Early on, however, The Murder Capital struggle to connect. It’s a source of frustration given that their music is a feedback machine fuelled by the audience. Halfway into the evening, though, as they plunge into Green and Blue from their 2019 debut, When I Have Fears (produced by U2 collaborator Flood), a switch flicks. People are on their feet. The mosh-pit churns. And McGovern comes roaringly to life. “Well, well, well – ye showed up didn’t ye,” he says.

The Murder Capital arrived cloaked in darkness five years ago. McGovern put the group together in the aftermath of the death of their friend, poet Paul Curran. Curran’s passing also inspired his David Balfe to launch the electronica project For Those I Love – a meditation on death, love, and community specific to their relationship and roots in Dublin.

McGovern and company are more universal in their angst. They further widened their frames of references with their second record, Gigi’s Recovery. It’s about getting back on the straight and narrow when you’ve thrown yourself too ardently into the embrace of excess. The LP drew comparisons to U2, Radiohead, and Nick Cave on its release last January. The NME heralded it “the first great guitar album of 2023″.

Those twin poles of grief and quiet resolve come together magnificently as the concert hurtles towards its conclusion. The body-slamming For Everything showcases McGovern’s ability to sound like he is simultaneously having a breakdown and crooning in a lounge. The night then goes from a scream to a whisper. The singer sits on the stage and delivers the beautiful On Twisted Ground – a hymn to lost friends that radiates empathy.

“This is it – no encores,” McGovern says before they bring down the curtains with Don’t Cling to Life. The song is an emotional firestorm that has the room on its feet. It didn’t happen immediately, but the band and audience are finally on the same frequency. It’s a powerful end to what is, finally and emphatically, a stunning performance.