EVERYTHING changes but sometimes everything remains the same. Well, almost. Over 20 years ago we sat in a lecture theatre in Belfield and swooned as Kate and Anna McGarrigle opened their hearts and sang of loves lost and won in voices so full of simple emotion that our cynicism crumbled.

Fast forward and last night we found ourselves in another small Dublin venue, packed mostly with grey hairs remembering and some, from a younger generation, discovering. It's the same onstage. Kate's son, Rufus Wainwright, opens the show, young, nervous but compellingly weird. His mother has described his songs as strange. She wasn't wrong, but his distinctive songs and singing need performance to mature.

Kate and Anna joined him for one song before taking the stage themselves for what was a typical McGarrigles show - an engaging performance that walked a tightrope between disaster and triumph. The Canadian sisters are so deconstructed in music business terms that not only do the audience not know what to expect, but, one senses, neither do they. It turned out right in the end, with even the fumbles and the forgotten lyrics adding to the intimate atmosphere.

That is, of course, the essence of a McGarrigles concert. The mix and match of sublime harmonies, heartbreaking melodies and a determined anti slick approach disarms us willingly. This ain't no Tina Turner concert. And as we wandered home the strains of Heart Like A Wheel, Mendocino and Goin Back To Harlan (from their new album Metapedia) ran through our heads. The same as it was back then? Yes, the same, only different.