Review: Paolo Nutini

Paolo Nutini

Olympia Theatre, Dublin

***

Perception isn’t everything, as any smart kid will tell you. The naysayers who smirked when they noticed Paolo Nutini’s name on the recently disclosed first tranche of the Electric Picnic line-up may well have pegged the Scotsman as the archetypal tousle-haired bedsit singer-songwriter it’s easy for women to unashamedly admire and men to openly fume at.

Yet all decent artists change tack, and it's likely that Nutini's forthcoming third studio album, Caustic Love , will change the minds of those who aren't too entrenched in their dislike of the man. Certainly, those who suspected that this show would consist of little more than sugary conceits and charm-fuelled asides were wrong. Nutini took to the stage flanked not only by his usual bandmates but also by soul/gospel backing singers and a horn section. That's a lot of people on stage making a racket, albeit one that confidently managed to segue from reconditioned old material into the aiming-to-be-classic soul/pop that makes up the majority of the new album.

Of course, three-day stubble, ragamuffin charm is one thing, but if you don't have the skill to transcend such appeal you're on a hiding to nothing. And so it's instructive to see Nutini dig himself out of what could have been a routine show (which, perhaps, it was a few years ago), and to deliver examples of fervent, slowburn soul ( Iron Sky , Pencil Full of Lead , Diana , Let Me Down Easy ), rock-edged tunes ( New Shoes , Jenny Don't Be Hasty , Cherry Blossom ) and some ballads (including Looking for Something ) that didn't have you reaching for the sick bucket.

As returns to live performances go, Nutini’s gig was both a surprise and a pleasure. Yes, it was an evening for the die-hard fans (some of whom were queuing outside the venue, desperate for a ticket), but even as casual an observer as this writer could see that Nutini has changed for the better. Songwriterly puppy fat has been replaced by something leaner and tighter – ­and wouldn’t you know it, damn and blast, but it fits him like a pair of 28-inch-waist jeans.