By Darryl Smyers, Special Contributor
Impassioned is too light of an expression to describe the music of singer-songwriter Damien Rice. Rice brought his A game to the stagnant confines of South Side Ballroom on Wednesday night, but it was a couple of hours of earnest emoting that often veered towards the overwrought.
Standing alone onstage with a couple of acoustic guitars keeping him company, Rice looked like a lost soul caught in a bright light for which he didn't ask.
Of course, it's been eight years since Rice released an album or played an area stage, so the crowd on hand was anxious from very get-go. Playing for a nearly packed house, Rice brought out songs from across his limited catalogue (three studio albums in 12 years).
Opening with "Cannonball," Rice proceeded to take the audience on a bleak journey through jealousy, cheating, distrust and isolation. Songs like "Elephant" and "Nine Crimes" took heartbreak to a new and unnerving low point.
But on Wednesday evening, Rice and his audience reveled in the throes of all things miserable. Ironically, the between song banter was almost comedic. Rice told stories about his sister denying his belief in Santa Claus and how he wanted to put a bomb under her bed. Rice even joked about love being like chocolate, something to be consumed and then released as waste.
Best of all was the first moments of "Elephant" where Rice sang, "This has got to die/ This has got to stop." A young lady in the front let out a scream and Rice deadpanned, "That has got to stop, too."
What didn't need to stop was the venue's air conditioning system. To say the environment was stifling would be too kind. Music this passionate deserves a proper setting, and watching folks writhe in discomfort due to the heat was not the appropriate ambience. Several disgruntled fans left an hour in and many sought relief on the outside patio.
In the end, Damien Rice proved to be an interesting enigma — a great songwriter and performer who can more than hold a stage just by himself, but a man with such deep inner demons that his music can become overbearingly downtrodden. His audience seems to live each tale of betrayal and sorrow along with the artist and on occasion, the show felt like the aural equivalent of ambulance chasing.
Rice is an extremely talented person and his fans are rabid in their appreciation of his autobiographical tales of relationships gone sour. Kudos to the large throng in attendance for their ability to, mostly, remain quiet as Rice pounded every ounce of emotion from his guitar and wailed away at the injustice of the girlfriend who says goodbye.
Darryl Smyers is a Dallas freelance writer.
