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Lana Del Rey in Dublin review: By far the strangest performance the Aviva has hosted

Lana Del Rey in Dublin review: By far the strangest performance the Aviva has hosted

Irish Times01-07-2025
Lana Del Rey
Aviva Stadium, Dublin
★★★☆☆
Lana Del Rey's
Aviva Stadium
show is a blockbusting love letter to following your muse and playing by your own rules – even when those rules include reciting an Allen Ginsberg poem offstage while a hologram entertains the 50,000-capacity audience. Which is what happens three-quarters of the way through this bizarre set.
A southern gothic rhapsody featuring burning houses and dancers who look as if they've just escaped from a cult, plus Del Rey's new husband, the
alligator tour guide Jeremy Dufrene,
waving from the wings, it is by far the strangest performance the Aviva has hosted. I stagger away as if emerging from a weird dream I can't shake.
But if this is a strikingly capricious concert, it has to be asked whether it is value for money. Of the 14 songs performed, five are from Del Rey's unreleased new country album (title to be revealed) and another two are covers.
Which would be fine if Del Rey were playing an intimate venue, as she did when she made her Irish debut, at Vicar Street, in 2013. But given the effort involved in getting to the Aviva and the ticket prices – you won't get in the door for less than €100 – the gig, at a trim 80 minutes or so, raises the question of where artistic expression ends and doing right by your fans begins.
READ MORE
Because whatever else this bizarre and often brilliant performance is, it never tickles the punters under the chin.
There are crowd-pleasers, for sure. Nobody could quibble with Del Rey's fantastic renditions of Summertime Sadness and Born to Die. Here are hazy bangers as all-American as a cheerleader's pyramid yet shot through with
David Lynch
-style glimmerings of menace, like razor blades in a pompom.
Yet the singer signals from the start that this is not going to be a ramble through her hit parade, as she opens with Stars Fell on Alabama, a baroque number from that forthcoming LP, which namechecks
Tennessee Williams
and
Clint Eastwood
.
It also doubles as an address to her new spouse, explaining why a prenup would kill the romance ('Husband of mine / don't let them put all this paper between us').
She's only warming up. Another new track, Quiet in the South, features Del Rey singing from the porch of a shack that bursts into flame (which is to say dry ice and video projection). It is followed by Del Rey reciting all of Ginsberg's Howl off camera as that hologram mouths the words.
Lana Del Rey performing at Aviva Stadium, Dublin. Photograph: Debbie Hickey
Lana Del Rey performing at Aviva Stadium, Dublin. Photograph: Debbie Hickey
If her production values are out there, the banter at least is sincere. 'My sister, my dad and my family, we've had a good couple of days here, really feeling the magic. All of the beautiful greenery, everything Ireland is about,' Del Rey says at the end (just after 10pm). 'I'm so grateful.'
She then embarks on a wafting take on John Denver's Take Me Home, Country Roads, a tune surely not heard echoing around an Irish amphitheatre since Denver played
Páirc Uí Chaoimh
, as part of the Siamsa Cois Laoí festival, in Cork in 1986.
Stadium pop is full of slick, soulless soundalikes, and you have to applaud Del Rey for trying something different. That said, time and money have never been more precious, and you do have to wonder about the wisdom of such an eccentric set.
Good on Del Rey for chasing her creative impulses down the rabbit hole. But maybe next time she might consider charging a bit less for the privilege.
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Throughout my career, I've been seen as too left-wing for some, and not left-wing enough for others, but I like to think I was in the process of constructing coalitions of people to build a better society.' For the 35 years that he worked as a full-time union official – first with the Irish Transport and General Workers Union (ITGWU), then its successor Siptu – Geraghty was at the coalface of industrial relations, involved in struggles and negotiations with employers. (Ryanair boss Michael O'Leary wasn't a fan.) But he displayed an expansive attitude to his brief, whether being involved in left-wing politics or helping negotiate the social partnership agreements that underpinned the Celtic Tiger. [ Alan Gilsenan: 'I would have had a dreamy, artsy-fartsy notion that a united Ireland would be great' Opens in new window ] Since stepping down as Siptu leader in 2003, he has enjoyed a high-profile second act, mixing service on the boards of public bodies with campaigning. And while he studiously avoids comment on his successors, he thinks the trade union movement needs to aim higher than seeking better pay for members. 'I believe the union movement gets its strength when it's broadly embracing the wider principles: the economy, the status of people, families, access to housing, healthcare, all the areas where trade unions work,' he says. 'I was on my own at times on the left by arguing for social bargaining at national level, for the reason that we could bring in issues of concern for people on social welfare or the unemployed. 'I'll give you a simple example. The last negotiation I was involved in very centrally was the last social partnership agreement [the Sustaining Progress programme of 2003-2005], when we put the issue of housing on the agenda, and got a commitment in the agreement for 10,000 affordable houses.' Citing achievements from the Celtic Tiger era may seem counterintuitive given how things unravelled in the 2008 crash, but while he talks about a better future, Geraghty has a keen sense of history, both Ireland's and his own. Gregarious and erudite, he makes regular conversational diversions into passionate polemics, historical precedents, literary references and personal anecdotes. His family background, in particular, remains central to his worldview. A self-described 'proud Irishman and Dubliner', he was born in the Liberties in 1943 to parents with strong republican connections. As described in his 2021 memoir, We Dare to Dream of an Island of Equals , his father Tom was a member of republican youth organisation Na Fianna Éireann, while his mother Lily's brothers went on the run during the independence struggle: his uncle Jack had been in Connolly's Citizen Army. 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[ From the archive: Daring to dream of an island of equals Opens in new window ] Geraghty went straight into work after school, including a stint as an RTÉ cameraman, before becoming a full-time union official in 1969. He also married the late Irish Times journalist Mary Maher: they later separated, but remained friends until her death in 2021. (Former Siptu economist Rosheen Callender has been his partner for many years.) Parallel to this, he was involved in politics, first as a member of the Workers' Party – he stood unsuccessfully for the European Parliament in 1984 – and then its post-split iteration, Democratic Left. He represented the latter in the European Parliament in the early 1990s, when he came in as substitute for sitting MEP Proinsias De Rossa. He did not stand for re-election, however – it was agreed he would return to Siptu. Apart from an unsuccessful Seanad run for Labour in 2002, he largely eschewed party politics. Though he believes the labour movement needs both a political and industrial arm, he is clearly frustrated by the fractures in left-wing politics. 'There's a lot of splitting hairs of politics,' he says, pointing to the rivalry between the Labour Party and the Social Democrats. 'My own view is I don't want to get involved in that,' he adds. 'I was never a sectarian in my political outlook. I always worked with everyone in the union – there were great shop stewards who were Fianna Fáil-ers. I suppose my philosophy would have been that you've got to embrace all.' His all-encompassing attitude that 'trade union voices should be heard anywhere decisions are made' was put to the test when, in the depths of the crash in 2009, he was approached by the late Brian Lenihan, then finance minister, to join the board of the Central Bank. 'I said, 'you must be joking, I've no time for bankers and I've less time for them now',' Geraghty recalls. But after relenting under Lenihan's persistence, he was appointed as chair of the risk committee. He still remembers Central Bank official delivering a stark assessment of the debt accumulated by Irish banks. 'She had a white face,' he recounts. 'I said, 'give it to me straight, what is the situation?' Now, I'd been reading all the journals and papers saying €64 billion [in debt], and she said, 'it's closer to €120 billion'. That was a frightening situation – I couldn't sleep that night, I wondered was I mad taking this on.' What I see is that they're dehumanising all of us. It's not just Gaza; they're making this standard acceptable. It's the depths of depravity — Des Geraghty As it turned out, Geraghty remained on the board until 2019: 'I was confident enough in the period I was there that good decisions were made.' But while he says he learned a lot about banking, he still views economics on a human scale. 'Economic thinking tends to be dominated by classical economists, bankers, financiers, and they're all about the bottom line, but I've always argued that's a very narrow concept of economy,' he says. 'Every penny you give in social welfare is channelled into the economy – it's spent in the local shop, on clothes and books for school. Economy is about how people live, the bottle of milk that you buy in the morning.' This chimes with his wider outlook. 'I like the slogan the Greens came up with: think globally, and act locally. We have to understand the world we live it, and act locally, with the sense of the community we're in.' But for all his idealism Geraghty is aware that not everyone shares his vision of a shared society. 'I found in housing [he was previously chairman of the Affordable Homes Partnership] that I was taken aback by objections to housing projects in local authorities,' he says. 'It usually was an objection to traffic, but at the end of the day people in secure houses are never that wild about new people coming in. So the real threat comes from people who are insecure, and the real problem in fascism is the people who are insecure. And that's egged on by people who have vested interests in that – Brexit was a classic example.' Similarly, Geraghty is alive to the growth of anti-immigrant sentiment in Ireland. He understands some concerns about the impact of immigration in rural areas. 'I can see an ordinary, logical argument that the State needs to do better, without filling out the local hotels,' he says. 'But the basic thing is we have a responsibility to provide as best we can.' Des Geraghty: 'I think that music, poetry and song was the anchor that kept the spirit of the Irish alive over centuries.' Photograph: Nick Bradshaw He firmly believes Ireland has 'enormously benefited' from migration: his 2007 book 40 Shades of Green celebrated the contribution of immigrants, in line with his view of national identity as 'a jigsaw of many pieces'. 'We're a mosaic of these identities, and we shouldn't be afraid of them,' he says. 'We need to thrive on difference.' These days, his activism is international in focus. He is vocal about Israel's destruction of Gaza, while calling out European inaction on the issue. 'What I see is that they're dehumanising all of us,' he says. 'It's not just Gaza; they're making this standard acceptable – Putin has done the same thing, bombing cities. It's the depths of depravity.' [ A father in Gaza: Our children are dying as the world watches. We don't want your pity – we want action Opens in new window ] Still, Geraghty sees reasons for hope. He lauds Ireland's 'communitarian instinct', evident in the charity sector and grass-roots action on patient rights and homelessness. Likewise, he remains inspired by Ireland's cultural life. 'Seán O'Casey said something very interesting, that culture is the way we live,' he observes. 'Culture isn't something out there, it has to be part of your own existence.' It's advice Geraghty has always taken to heart, whether previously serving as chairman of Poetry Ireland or appearing this month at the Masters of Tradition festival in west Cork. 'I think that music, poetry and song was the anchor that kept the spirit of the Irish alive over centuries,' he says. 'Music can bring people closer to their own homeplace – pride of place is very important if we're going to deal with the environment – and it doesn't have to be mutually exclusive to anyone else.' Such idealism speaks of Geraghty's principles, but also his personality. He cheerfully greets people who come up to him during our encounter, and even when discussing dark subjects, he looks on bright side. 'My optimism is rooted in my experience with human beings,' he says. 'I think human beings fundamentally have the potential to be either good or bad. We've the potential for humanity and greatness and creativity, or we can go down another road of dog-eat-dog and doing down other people, where you encourage all the worst features. I don't like competition as a philosophy. I think people are at their best when they're co-operating, when they're sharing, when they're not trying to beat other people.' Des Geraghty appears in conversation with Martin Hayes at the West Cork Music Masters of Tradition festival on August 24th

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