Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros at The Olympia Theatre | Review

Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros at the Olympia Theatre, Dublin, 8th of February 2014

“Don’t do drugs!”

That’s the advice from Alex Ebert, frontman of Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, midway through their Olympia set on Saturday evening. Perhaps it’s tongue-in-cheek, but Ebert seems like a strange man to give that message. He has the look of a vagrant in his holey ill-fitting t-shirt, holey trousers and oversized coat. Even in a different outfit, his ragged beard and mop of hair surely makes him a target for ‘random’ security checks at airports.

While his look may scare a few he passes in the street, he comes across as such a genial character on stage. His message is continuously one of peace and love, with a constant aim of sharing the joy throughout the packed Olympia with his magnetic personality. But it so nearly failed to happen.

At about half seven, with many concertgoers already on their way, Dame Street was plunged into darkness; the result of an electrical fault. People had to cross Dame Street, without the help of Gardai or pedestrian lights to find they were, rightly, unable to enter the Olympia and ushered into a queue rounding the corner, deeper into the Saturday night darkness towards Fleet Street. There, they waited, nervously hoping the power would return and the show would go on.

The power did return and shortly after nine, support act Foy Vance is onstage with his guitar. Vance makes the misguided decision of trying to prove he doesn’t need power to entertain. He stands in front of the mic with an unplugged acoustic guitar. Even though he plays a few covers, Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For, Purple Rain and Wonderwall, with sing along potential, it never works.

The audience, perhaps a little too giddy from the result of the afternoon’s rugby, seem more interested in making their way to the bar or chatting among themselves than struggling to hear the music of the man on the stage. Vance’s set is mostly a write-off and, even after he steps behind the mic to finish his work with two originals, he courts little but passing interest from the crowd.

Even after Ebert, his alter ego Edward Sharpe and the rest of the ten piece band enter the stage, the disquiet never truly ends. It’s all the more a shame given the group’s unrelenting attempts to be one with the crowd. Indeed, the first two songs of their set are requests from the crowd.

Ebert, who has previously spoken of his discomfort on stage, spends much of the show down from his lofty position, right at the barrier at the front of the crowd. For I Don’t Wanna Pray, Ebert hands the mic to two different audience members allowing them to improvise a verse of their own each. They both seem to manage the task rather well.

Later in the show, Ebert takes a camera off an audience member and runs around the stage shooting video of each of the band members performing before returning the camera to its owner. It’s one of many signs of Ebert’s endearing humility, but somehow manages not to grab the crowd in its entirety. Even for the hits like Man on Fire and Forty Day Dream, parts of the audience seem to have more on their mind than the fantastic performance on stage.

Even the most distracted seem to be won over by Home, however. From the moment Jade Castrinos opens with “Alabama, Arkansas” to add to the marching drum beat, a sense of occasion fill the Olympia. Both Castrinos and Ebert go to the crowd for an extended version of their duet. It’s joyful, uplifting and beautiful.

Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros belong on the stage; it is their home. Home proves it beyond a shadow of a doubt.