Che Guevara banners were unfurled in Smith field on Friday night as Welsh band The Manic Street Preachers christened the city's newest outdoor concert space.
The former Smithfield Market was transformed into a street carnival of sorts for the Heineken Green Energy Festival and around 4,000 people converged on the new civic space in search of a rock 'n' roll celebration.
Dublin band JJ72 opened the proceedings with some squalling, cathartic songs of teenage angst, singer Mark Greaney delivering full-throated anthems for lonely adolescents.
The Manics have no room for such concerns: as the self-appointed spokes-band for the vaguely disaffected masses, they've got a socio-political agenda to follow, and their manifesto is set down in their set-list.
They opened with Found That Soul, from their somewhat disappointing new album, Know Your Enemy, but then delivered a quick reminder of their former greatness, the magnificent Motorcycle Emptiness.
With his worker's shirt and short hair, singer/guitarist James Dean Bradfield cuts a stocky, stoic figure; bassist Nicky Wire, in stark contrast, is loose and lanky in a brightly-coloured kilt, his mic stand smothered in feather boas. Halfway through the set, Wire changed into a loose white frock and Sunday hat - a 6-1/2-foot-tall schoolgirl with hairy legs.
When the Manics get personal, as on Ocean Spray, Bradfield's tribute to his late mother, then they can touch the soul. When they bring the personal into the political, as on Kevin Carter, they can be searing. But when they start sloganeering, as on The Masses Against The Classes or Miss Europa Disco Dancer, then they're in danger of losing the mandate. Most of the time, though, they deftly tread an ideological tightrope, particularly on Let Robeson Sing, Everything Must Go, Baby Elian and A Design For Life.
Their party line may be wearing thin, but they've still got some raw energy left to burn, particularly on Motown Junk and You Love Us. We still do.
