Desert Hearts. Menagerie.

Desert Hearts are one of the finest bands Northern Ireland has ever produced. Charlie Mooney one of our great songwriters. They are also the band that could have been...

Be it bad luck, poor timing or simple self sabotage, Desert Hearts have always had the potential to be more than a local band playing to a room of ardent conversationalists. But perhaps it depends on how you measure success.

For some, three albums of exceptional songwriting, each better than the last, is all the success required – I am confident adding Charlie Mooney to that group.

DH had a way of attacking every song like it was impossible to do it any other way. But with time and a steady succession of drummers, they had begun to loss this trait; no drummer ever quite filling the gap of the long departed Chris.

But note the past tense ‘had’ in those sentences, because on Friday DH reminded the Menagerie what it is that makes them so special: exceptional songwriting, performed with the heart, balls and abandon that it deserves.

The band threw themselves into every note, every chord change, and every solo in the way that only DH can. Charlie Mooney headbanged harder than I did when I saw Pantera in the Ulster Hall in the early 90s. Stephen Leacock blew away every lingering memory of old drummers. Stu Bell quelled all my resentment of him for becoming DH's second guitarist before I even knew they'd want a second guitarist. And Roisin Stewart, the most under-celebrated bass player in Northern Ireland, held the entire ship together.

It was loud, thrilling and dangerous. Not even the loud continuous conversations going on around the whole room, could dampen the impact of DH in this kind of form.

DH are a special band, and all being well they will continue to write exceptional songs, release incredible albums and play spectacular shows. And not give one single fuck whether you care or not.

Hornby

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