Damien Dempsey has now been elevated to musical-deity level by his many fans – a poet, a sage, a self-help guru and a prophet who harnesses positivity and espouses the benefits of music and singing on your life and your mental health. Not every musician can refer to the Dalai Lama and Archbishop Desmond Tutu in their press release and get away with it.
That the Dubliner’s previous albums have often been patchy affairs matters little. Live, at least, Dempsey is an undeniably potent force; even Tales from the Holywell, his autobiographical musical journey presented on the stage of the Abbey Theatre last year, was a joyful affair despite the genteel venue.
Perhaps that show is one of the reasons why Hold Your Joy is Dempsey’s first album of new material since Soulsun, from 2017. His 10th LP picks up the thread of his previous work, and, while there is nothing revelatory here, it’s difficult not to get swept up in both the feelgood, empowering nature of these songs and Dempsey’s utter belief in every word that he is singing.
These songs are a mix of rousing words to live by and personal stories. On the title track Dempsey urges his listeners to “Hold your joy, don’t let the bad men make you cry / Karma will get them,” while Ray of Sun stresses the importance of setting an example to the younger generation: “We have a role to guide the younger ones / Show them some soul and steer them towards the sun”. Others, such as Factory John and Devil’s Dandruff, are both cautionary tales and tributes to specific figures; the soft strings of Louise, about an oppressed woman with “11 children”, pair particularly well with Dempsey’s tender vocals, which have never sounded better.
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Amid the balladry and stirring singalongs, Dempsey also finds space for social commentary. Landlords in the Government denounces the duplicity of certain politicians and decries how “thousands of kids in B&Bs [are] an insult to James Connolly”, urging listeners to “vote them out”. The brisk, frantic strum of James McClean pays tribute to the Irish soccer player who refuses to wear a remembrance poppy: “We must commend his bravery. He stands up to the mob.”
At 16 tracks, Hold Your Joy is too long, laden with occasionally mawkish, rudimentary lyrics designed for singalongs and not chinstroking analysis. Yet, much like his live show, Dempsey’s wholehearted approach to music, singing and storytelling is infectious: before long you are carried away by the sentiment, perhaps even despite your best intentions. That, he might say himself, is exactly the point.
