There's a steady swell of anticipation in the air at Dublin's Barnstormers - a modest but intimate venue adjoining one of the city's few biker pubs. As the audience fills and gathers around the small two foot stage, simply adorned with a pair of decks and two mics, three quarters of ScaryÉire huddle in a corner, getting busy with the pre-gig herbals. They're an odd looking bunch - half street urchin, half b-boy - you wouldn't guess they were Ireland's premier rap crew if you passed them in the street.

It's a different story when they finally emerge on stage. They stride on like they own the place, deejays Mek and Dada Sloosh dropping immaculatly clipped beats as rappers Rí-Rá and Mr Browne get physical on the frontline. Rí-Rá has an engaging delivery. There's little recourse to accepted rap stylings, just full-on, hard rhyming in an accent as thick as the local Guinness. And what rhymes. There's an underlying aura of malcontent to ScaryÉire's material. It's more than evident in the ska-infused 'Truncheon Song', another take on the old rap staple of police brutality, where a luckless peace campaigner gets battered for answering back to our friends the filth. It's also there on the expletive-strewn 'Hold Yer Whist' and the kitchen sink drama sink drama of 'Da Modda' - both tales of low-life Irish existence with scripts as fruity and engaging as Roddy Doyle's literary distillations of ordinary madness.

And while they prove they're more than capable of jumping around and working a crowd, ScaryÉire give the lie to the notion that they're a one trick pony. Two thirds through they drop some mellow tackle that hitches a ride on the slow-mo P-funk bandwagon, but minus the lazy drawl that usually accompanies such a diversion. Elsewhere the beats seem to borrow from all quarters - reggae, traditional Irish music, the old skool - the double deejay stint allowing for some assured scratching between the breaks, as they flip some maverick dance styles last witnessed on You've Been Framed.

The crowd lap it all up with fervour. There's none of the arms-crossed, 'Go on, impress me then' motionless or begrudging feet-shuffling that characterises homegrown gigs. Instead they're in rapture, out for the crack and getting their full punts worth. "ScaryÉire are excellent," whoops Claire after the show, as she waits for the bus with her friend. "This is the third time I've seen them and they're the bollox." But can they make it outside of Dublin? "No," she replies point blank, "but who cares?" For what it's worth, they just might. There's no denying the skills in the camp, whether it translates into vinyl or accross the water is anyone's guess. Island Records seem to think so, and they've been vindicated countless times before. The suspicion was always that they might just be picking up from where House Of Pain left off, but ScaryÉire are out to prove they're defiantly their own men. Éire we go, Éire we go, Éire we go...


Words: Andy Cowan - Photos: Julian Lloyd . photos > [ 1 ] [ 2 ]