The band have experienced 35 years of hairstyles

I once heard someone complain that a band they had gone to see said
 nothing in between their songs. If you are of the opinion that bands
 should engage in banter then go and see The Wolfe Tones - you'll either 
love it, or change your way of thinking.



These veterans of Irish rebel folk are visibly seeped in history, and 
it's not hard to guess whose. A slideshow playing throughout their set 
leaves no doubt over what the three gentlemen are trying to convey to
 the audience, be it a cartoon of Prince Charles in a preposterous athlete's leotard during one of their more light-hearted and upbeat songs such as 'Janey Mac', or pictures of the ten prisoners who died on hunger strike in 1981 during the achingly poignant 'Joe
McDonell', suiting the charming Luminaire like a piece of fine art.



There is no use reading up on The Wolfe Tones before going to see
 them, since they are nigh-on certain to tell you everything about them - 
twice, like a forgetful grandpa. It is nevertheless impressive stuff;
 they have been around since the sixties, are responsible for the fastest 
selling record of all time in Ireland (the fabulously immature
 'The Helicopter Song'), and have toured the world.



The Wolfe Tones are always subtle when it comes to politics

Audience participation ranges from being genuine fun to downright 
cringe worthy. A story of whiskey making you well when you're sick, 
and sick when you're well (inexplicably told twice in succession) was
 par for the course, while the sheer chutzpah of shouting "God save 
Ireland!", after the so-titled song containing that particular lyric roughly 50 times, was even less entertaining.



That aside, when they stopped behaving like your drunk father, they 
put on a good show. The music could have been warmer and more
 convincing if they were to employ a bassist and possibly even a 
percussionist, and if I, like some people, had paid £25 to see them
 (not this particular show), words might have been uttered. However, a set of well over 20 songs, lasting far in excess of two hours, and also containing generous lashings of U2-bashing, cannot be classed as anything other than a good effort from three old men.

Words by Owen Rickards