DJ Shadow

If it’s wisdom and insight you’re after, look no further than the Gents toilet in The Ambassador. “When does a man behind some decks become a man behind a desk?” ponders the chap trough-left to me.

It’s a very good question. This being a theatre venue, a proper eyes-a-popping show is called for but, sorry, this ain’t what DJ Shadow’s serving up. Save for the random images on the split-screens above his head, there’s bugger all to feast the retinas on. Unlike yer Orbitals and Groove Armadas, Mr. Davis thinks it’s okay to charge people €30 to see him playing records, period. It ain’t.

Not that his mixing and choice of material isn’t close to faultless. In an intimate club atmosphere, this’d be great. In a two-tiered venue where half the crowd, by necessity, have to sit down, it’s merely adequate.

There are a few not-to-be-missed moments such as the scratched-to-death ‘Organ Donor’, insanely danceable ‘Midnight In A Perfect World’ and ‘Six Days’, which is so summery you can almost feel your skin burning.

Otherwise proceedings have the whiff of a man who’s doing what needs to be done to pay the bills. His new album, The Private Press, is genius. Tonight’s show was far from it.