Patti SmithHeineken Big Top, Galway\u2605\u2605\u2605\u2605\u2606<\/p>\n
On a scorching summer evening, some of the crowd gathered to watch Patti Smith<\/a> play at Galway International Arts Festival<\/a> are fishing ice cubes out of their drinks to rub on each other\u2019s faces. Those who thought to bring a hand-held electric fan are swarmed with new friends.<\/p>\n Smith comes onstage looking relaxed, dressed in baggy jeans, a white T-shirt and an oversized blazer, a change from the Ann Demeulemeester tailoring she has often favoured. (\u201cGalway has the unique honour of being the place where I am most sloppily dressed,\u201d she admits later, to whoops from the audience.)<\/p>\n She goes straight to the microphone with a simple message: \u201cAt a time when leaders try to divide us, we offer a song of unity.\u201d She dives into Ghost Dance, a strange and spiritual song. Next is Dancing Barefoot, which gets the crowd singing. Revenge still carries its bite, Smith\u2019s delivery lethal as she snarls, \u201cI gave you a wristwatch, baby \/ You wouldn\u2019t even give me the time of day.\u201d<\/p>\n At 79, Smith\u2019s voice remains strong, and her demeanour is as pure and earnest as ever. There is no vanity in her performance. She is the last of the poet rock stars, the last of a brilliant and tragic generation.<\/p>\n Throughout the performance she brings in old friends and influences. Marking the centenary of Allen Ginsberg<\/a>\u2019s birth, Smith says, \u201cHe was my mentor when I was young and hungry. He bought me a sandwich.\u201d (She graciously omits the detail disclosed in her memoir Just Kids: that Ginsberg tried to pick her up, thinking she was a teenage boy.) She launches into Footnote to Howl, delivered over a steady, quietly menacing accompaniment, a furious, passionate recitation.<\/p>\n A tender cover of The Doors\u2019 Crystal Ship leads into Break It Up, introduced with the beautiful story of a dream Smith had after Jim Morrison<\/a>\u2019s death and how it became the lyrics of the song she later wrote with Tom Verlaine<\/a>.<\/p>\n Smith takes a short break midway through the set. Tony Shanahan steps forward to sing Lou Reed<\/a>\u2019s Walk on the Wild Side and then Galway Girl. (\u201cDon\u2019t throw stuff at me, my mother is Irish,\u201d he jokes.) On guitar throughout, touchingly, is Smith\u2019s son, Jackson, a talented musician.<\/p>\n When Smith returns she seems reinvigorated. A spoken poem on Irish displacement and migration leads into Nine, before she thanks Ireland for standing with the Palestinian people and cites Sin\u00e9ad O\u2019Connor<\/a>\u2019s stance against Israel. <\/p>\n