HOWZAT

“I just loved songs which had anger in them, speaking out against something unjust. Maybe it’s because nearly everybody I was listening to had this political side: Luke Kelly, Christy Moore, John Lennon. And maybe the other guys didn’t have those sort of influences; I know a lot of them are into Van Morrison.”

The outraged sincerity of Dempsey’s songs initially won few fans, however. His 1997 reggae-lite single, Dublin Town, may have been a radio hit, but it sparked an even bigger backlash: “I got loads of grief over it at the time,” he says. There were also lulls as he toiled to pay off debts, and when he released his 2000 debut album, They Don’t Teach This S*** in School, it sank without trace.

“I was very downhearted at one stage, but I don’t think I could have given it up,” he says. “I’ve always had a stubbornness inside me that, no matter how many people slagged me off, I’d want to prove them wrong. I’d just work that bit harder on the songs and put more into the live performances.”

The turning point was 2003’s Seize the Day album, which saw Dempsey win commercial success in Ireland and critical acclaim abroad. Last year’s follow-up, Shots, consolidated his reputation, though his trademark soapbox approach seemed to reach the limits of its appeal overseas. Tellingly, perhaps, Dempsey talks about working harder on his lyrics for his next studio album, due for completion at Christmas.

Despite having once performed a benefit gig for a Sinn Fein councillor in 2004, he plays down the notion that he is a ideologically driven republican socialist: “I’d try to be political in the broader sense,” he says. “I wouldn’t like to be put in a box with anybody; I’m very open-minded.”

It seems unlikely, however, that Dempsey will drop the righteous indignation that has fired much of his work. The laid-back, slightly diffident singer becomes animated once he starts talking about the state of the health and education services, or the continuing ravages of drug culture in the capital.

“Cocaine is so big in Dublin now it’s scary. I’m offered it a lot, but thankfully I don’t do it, because trying to curtail the gargle is hard enough. People seem to think it’s a cool drug, but it’s a real danger: it’s very addictive and a lot of violence we see is cocaine-based. That’s the thing about the Celtic tiger: it’s got better, but it’s got worse in a lot of ways, too.”

Dublin clearly still looms large in the singer’s personal and creative world. But for Dempsey, even his home town has to take second place to his music.

“I reckon even if I never sold another album I’d still be doing what I’m doing,” he says. “I need to do it. It’s probably like a form of therapy for me, my own personal counselling, and it’s just a release. And I suppose another thing that drives me is just wanting people to tell you that you’re good. I suppose anybody who gets up there, that has to be a bit of it; wanting people to like you.

“So I know how lucky I am, to be doing something I love. Sometimes you have to give yourself a slap on the face: you can’t be going around wanting more all the time. Because sometimes you forget; you think, if I could just get to No 1 in England, or get success like Damien Rice has had. But when I take a reality check, I realise I’m doing all right.”

Live at the Olympia is released on Friday. Damien Dempsey plays Cyprus Avenue, Cork, tonight & Mon; Empire, Belfast, Wed; Roisin Dubh, Fri; and Olympia, Dublin, on June 4