Salut! Live

I hadn’t seen him for a number of years but memories of a fantastic night were retrieved as we joined the seemingly sparse audience in The Journal Tyne Theatre. It's a lovely old building that has suffered since the ultra modern Sage opened on the south bank of the river, but appears to be making a comeback with some pleasing concerts lined up: Steve Harley, Laura Marling and The Chuckle Brothers.

The supporting act was an impressive American singer, Sarah Siskind. Resembling a female Neil Young she worked hard to rouse an audience there for Brady – and succeeded after a shaky start with her low key, mildly depressive songs whose appeal grew steadily through the set.

Good craic as well: one lovely story about one of her songs being selected by National Public Radio for its Valentine's Day Special. She was really chuffed; then they told her it had been chosen as one of the most depressing love songs ever.

The house filled during the interval and a healthy crowd was installed in time for Paul Brady to hit the stage.

He had Sarah on backing vocals, a keyboard player, a drummer with an improbable beard plus bass and lead guitar. A really tight band, well drilled and knowing exactly what the gaffer wanted from them.

He opened with a couple of songs from the new album, Hooba Dooba. It’s always tricky when a much loved repertoire is trimmed to accommodate new and unfamiliar material, but Brady struck instant top form with Cry It Out, which had his audience rocking.

He said his set was a good mix of new songs and old favourites and in 100 minutes on stage, he fulfilled his promise. New ones like The Price of Fame, about being a success and forgetting where you came from, Money To Burn, with its condemnation of property developers, and Rainbow, about people living together, were mixed in with such Brady classics as Nobody Knows, Follow On and Nothing But The Same Old Story.

The voice has held strong and Brady incorporates an impressive range of influences. You hear the young folk singer, and there are shades of Van Morrison, bits of blues, Americana and country and, at times, the great swirling ballads so beloved of the Irish boy bands. Little wonder that he has had a successful writing partnership with Ronan Keating.

The audience loved him; indeed, he's a lovable man. Standing with his guitar, he calls to mind the English teacher everyone in school reveres; hair receding but still a good silver thatch, thick framed glasses and a casual suit. No side on this man, he could almost have stepped from the pages of a Roddy Doyle novel.

The formal close was an acoustic Lakes of Pontchartrain, but yoi gete xtrta time in concerts, too, and he brought the band back for a rousing Homes of Donegal, with name checks for Shay Given and Daniel O’Donnell and his ubiquitous cups of tea. No Arthur McBride, but hey, you can’t have everything.

For this I missed a 2-2 draw between Morpeth Town and Shildon. It was, I think, a wise decision.