I don’t know what it is about Dermot Kennedy. I first discovered his music when I heard “Power Over Me” on a music channel on my TV. It was literally love at first listen. Kennedy’s voice is unlike any other I’ve ever heard: haunting, soulful, and incredibly powerful. Add to that his ability to write lyrically and musically beautiful works of art, and I’m a fan for life. For now, Kennedy is still relatively unknown in the US, but those who know his music flock to his shows, resulting in regularly sold-out shows. Such was the case at last night’s show with SYML at the Masonic.
I’ve seen Kennedy live twice now, and both times I was struck by three significant impressions: first, there are a lot of men in attendance at his shows. I say this because, in my experience, women tend to far outnumber men at a typical singer/songwriter show. With Kennedy, not so. I can’t say why this is true, but I think it might just speak to the sheer talent of the man, and how good his music is. In fact, last night I stopped to look around to determine if there was a near 50/50 split between (binary) genders. I can’t say for sure, but I honestly thought that there might have even been more men present than women. Anyway, I digress. (The two other impressions that struck me last night, by the way, I’ll get to later.)
I knew in advance that there was an opener for the Without Fear tour, but the name SYML didn’t stick in my head – until I headed to SF after work yesterday. I was flipping through stations on SiriusXM, as is my wont, and happened upon that very name on the Coffeehouse station. That’s when I realized I’d not only heard of him, but that I actually knew a few of his songs. I love when there’s an opener I might actually enjoy, so I can tell the snobbish anti-opening-act side of myself to shut up!
Walking into the Masonic, I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been there, and took a moment to appreciate the overall beauty of the venue. It also felt significantly bigger in size than the Fox, where I last saw Kennedy perform. It felt good to see his career expanding exponentially as people discover his outrageous talent.
When SYML took the stage, I liked him immediately. The first two things he did after saying hello were 1) say his stage name, so I know how to pronounce it (“SIMM-ull”), and 2) also tell us his name, which is Brian (Fennell). I enjoyed SYML’s chill, relaxed vibe and the tone of his music. During the second song of his set, I repeatedly got a vaguely Sam Beam-ish (Iron & Wine) vibe, which I mean as a compliment. He also performed “Girl,” the song I heard on the way to the show. Fennell wrote the song for his 3-year-old daughter, who had surgery when she was just a year old. “She won’t remember,” Fennell explained, so he wrote the song as a way for them both to remember the entire thing and how intense the experience was, but they came through it. It’s a great song, and knowing the background story just makes it more poignant. “Clean Eyes” was next, and was the other SYML song I already knew. Fennell wrote this one for his wife, he explained just after asking the audience if there were “any questions?”
Asked who he was rooting for in this weekend’s Super Bowl LIV, Fennel admitted he was “a little outnumbered right now,” and reminded the crowd that he’s from Seattle (thus implying a fan of 49ers rival Seattle Seahawks). “I wish you the best of luck on Sunday,” Fennell insisted. “I will be cheering for you, believe me or not.” Fennell then joked that he had a “good transition to a song about cancer,” because it was “not a bummer… cancer’s a fucking bummer, that’s obvious. In times of trouble, you turn to music.” The song, “Flags,” was written from the perspective of bodies “going through something like that.” After “Where’s My Love,” SYML prepared to depart by inviting the crowd to come “say hi” at the merch table, either right after his set or later after the show. And with “Everything All At Once,” Fennell closed a lovely little set.
Dermot Kennedy graced the stage a little while later, shrouded in fog (and I’d like to say “and mystery,” but he’s so humble that I’m not sure it actually applies). During the first song or two, I was so engrossed in his music and the power he has when singing live that I didn’t think much about anything; I just let it wash over me like a dizzying, melodious tsunami. And then I remembered one of the things that had struck me last time: Dermot Kennedy is a man of few words. He’s here to share with you a little about the songs he’ll be singing for you, to show you his gratitude for allowing him to do what he does for a living, and other than that, he’s just gonna sing. He’s not gonna tell you a lot of stories or try to be funny, but trust me: if you like his music, you won’t care.
By the time I got out of the photo pit, Kennedy was beginning his fourth song, and I stopped to note what I couldn’t shake. It’s a notion that honestly overwhelms me a little (if it’s possible to be a little overwhelmed): every time I see Kennedy live, I feel certain that I’m “in the presence of greatness.” I believe I’ve typed this expression into the notes on my phone on two separate occasions (meaning last night and when I last saw him). Maybe I’m just a super crazy fan, or maybe it’s true.
It seems that Kennedy is evolving over time, as I hope most good musicians do. Not just musically, but the overall tour production value felt higher than the last tour, though it’s hard to articulate an example. The best one I can give to explain what I mean is only one tiny evolution: last time I saw him, Kennedy wore a huge pair of baggy jeans and a plain, giant t-shirt. Last night, however, he was dressed in a cool pair of wide-leg/baggy pants that at first appeared to be jeans with an abstract design made with bleach and dyes. Once I got out of the photo pit, though, I could see him better, ironically, and I realized that it wasn’t a “random” design at all, but fabric printed with men on it. I never did figure out who was on his pants, but they were cool all the same. In any case, he still feels like the Kennedy I know and love, but maybe he’s taking a little more care in his appearance as he’s growing in renown? Maybe it’s a coincidence. I don’t need him to dress up for me, but I did still appreciate the extra effort.
Again, Kennedy doesn’t say a lot. After “Couldn’t Tell,” I took down another quick note that expresses how I feel about this: “He’s not much for chit-chat onstage. That’s ok: he’s so fucking talented I don’t care if all he says is ‘hello,’ ‘thank you,’ and ‘good night!’ Although part of me would certainly prefer him not to say goodnight so he might keep singing forever. But he is a human, and I have to work in the morning…”
No sooner had I typed this than Kennedy began talking more between songs. Still, he really only mentioned what the songs were about and/or what he hoped the crowd would feel when hearing them. “Outnumbered,” for example, was “my best effort to send light and hope to somebody very dear to me.” He went on to add that that is “so often the case when I’m writing songs,” and that they’re “for the people closest to me, that I love the most.” Before he began the song, he went on to say that he was “so glad it’s reached a lot of people,” remarking how “a song that’s unique to you can grow and be so many things for so many people” and how fascinating it is that a song about something specific to one person can feel relevant to the “difficulties you’re going through” all the same. Kennedy then requested that those who know the song sing along with him, which he would continue to do throughout the night. It’s pure magic to hear the crowd singing the song, without the artist or together with him, and there was plenty of both last night, at impressive volume.
When the band left Kennedy alone onstage for the next song, he again asked the crowd to “join me,” but this time not just in singing the tune. He explained that the song he was about to play “means home and comfort and safety,” and he asked the crowd to “picture wherever it is to you that represents home and peace and safety.” I loved the idea of everyone collectively imagining such a hygge mindset, even if for some of us it might have been a little picture-in-picture. (For me, at least, as at a live show with an artist I really love is my go-to happy place.) The song, in case you’re wondering, was “For Island Fires & Family.”
After “Redemption,” Kennedy took a break to towel off before introducing the members of his band, who garnered more applause than I’m used to hearing for a backing band. Kennedy once again asked the audience to join him, this time for “Power Over Me.” When it was over, he began to thank the crowd and said “I’m afraid we’ve only got one song left to play for you” and asked the room to “sing with me one more time” before teaching which line he wanted the crowd to join him on, and when it would come up. “The words are ‘you won’t go lonely.’ There’s this bit right near the end. Sing those words with me as loud as you can! I think it’ll be a really, really beautiful way to say goodnight, and just to cap off the night.” After explaining what he wanted of the audience, Kennedy began to thank the crowd again for coming out. His gratitude is obvious, as is his sincerity. I started to take notes of what he was saying while he was talking, but after a few seconds I could no longer hear him: the crowd, realizing that he was nearly done, began to roar in response, to the point that they literally drowned out the man with the microphone. Impressed, I looked to see Kennedy beaming as he stood opposite a woman waving an Ireland flag at him from the balcony. I kind of expected that he would give a kind of “aw, shucks” response and quiet everybody down to go on, but to my surprise and delight, he stood there and just basked in the applause for quite some time. I wish I’d timed it, because he let it go on for at least a full minute, maybe even two. I can’t blame him, and it was fun to watch, because he deserves it. After smiling at the adoring crowd, casually sipping his water and letting them applaud on and on, Kennedy was finally able to speak again, finishing his earlier attempt to express his gratitude for “buying tickets, for traveling, for getting here,” and adding that it’s “really beautiful” every time they come to San Francisco because of the crowd’s adoration.
Kennedy then explained that the final song, “After Rain,” was about hope, and “people who make it easier to have it,” who are often “the people you wish you would get to spend all your time with.” I’m sure that he doesn’t mean those of us wishing we could spend all our nights watching/listening to him performing live, but the thought crossed my mind all the same. Like I said, live music is usually my proverbial happy place. At any rate, that’s always the case for me when it’s Kennedy in front of me, and I’m already ready for the next time I can see him.
Want the full set list? I uploaded it for you here.
