Less prosaic than Leonard Cohen, more simplistic than Joni Mitchell and more viscerally exciting than Bob Dylan could ever be, Neil Young says it's good to be back in Ireland, then treats the sold-out venue to as tasteful a display of God-almighty guitar rock as anyone dressed in ripped jeans and a cowboy hat can do.
Young's songs work on the basis of less is more: from the pared-down notions of love to his more politically charged material, he views the world not with a cynic's eye but with the gaze of a man who knows that to be emotionally honest is perhaps the most noble thing in the world.
Hearing Young's mellow renderings of From Hank To Hendrix, Old Man, Only Love Can Break Your Heart and After The Goldrush made you hanker for more of the same. But when he swaps acoustic for electric and his Crazy Horse sidekicks - Ralph Molina, Billy Talbot and Frank Sampedro - plug into the sonic maelstrom, you'd be forgiven for thinking Young's balladry was somebody else's work.
Playing guitar as if on a precipice, arching his body this way and that to keep a foothold, Young ploughed through Cinnamon Girl, Like A Hurricane and Fuckin' Up as if possessed of a spirit that only he could conjure up. "It's better to burn out than to fade away," he sings on the marvellous guitar squall of Hey Hey, My My (Into The Black). Judging by his performance on Tuesday, there is no chance of Neil Young doing either.
