Leaving the venue on a post-John Cale high, a man unlocking his bike on Thomas Street happily sings- “Barracuda, Barracuda, won’t you lay down your life for me? Won’t you love me, Barracuda?” – the chorus of the final song with which the iconic artist wrapped his rather wonderful Vicar Street set with tonight.

Punters had been expecting Cale to finish with The Velvet Underground’s ‘I’m Waiting For The Man’ but the unhinged surf rock of ‘Barracuda’ off 1974’s Fear was just perfect. Fear in itself, is a distillation of just how iconic John Cale is – its collaborators included Brian Eno, Richard Thompson, Roxy Music guitarist Phil Manzanera and Snatch’s Judy Nylon. It was one of three albums that Cale recorded for Island Records in that year alone (!), while still finding time to produce Patti Smith’s masterpiece Horses.

John Cale at Vicar Street / copyright Patrik Meier

Tonight, the howl at the moon fun of ‘Barracuda’ provided a drag race finish to a performance which was no damn heritage act, featuring as it did, three tracks off Cale’s marvellous 2024 record Poptical Illusion and ‘Long Way Out Of Pain’ that is so fresh, it’s not even cut yet.

After a mighty support set from Mark Austin’s (The Minutes’ frontman) new outfit MWA & The Psychedelic Folk Band, Cale strutted out to a hero’s welcome; svelte, with messy grey gruaig and soul patch, just a year younger than Dylan, strapped on his guitar and launched into VU-reminiscent ‘Shark Shark’. After which, he settled in behind his keyboard to orchestrate the rest of the show, starting with the avant-garde wig out of ‘Captain Hook’, before launching into the starkly barbaric, sci-fi lullaby of ‘Letter From Abroad’, which is simply tremendous.

John Cale at Vicar Street / copyright Patrik Meier

Cale’s ceaseless pioneering hunt for novel sonic sounds, sets him apart from the pack. The bizarre bass notes, psychedelic pandemonia and Japanese court folk sound of Poptical Illusion’s ‘Setting Fires’ continues that eternal search. It is more than matched by his remarkable interpretation of Elvis’ ‘Heartbreak Hotel’, after which the band thoroughly enjoy lashing into ‘My Maria’, while Cale sits on his high stool, legs casually crossed at the ankles, scrabbling notes. It’s where he takes these songs that is so special – Welsh compatriot Dylan Thomas’ ‘Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night’ goes to a place where no one else would even conceive of.

It's a Ravel version of rock and roll on ‘Company Commander’ with its flailing cavernous drums and kitten walking on keys piano; all played out in front of crazily pulsing psychedelic visuals. His stirring version of late friend and collaborator Nico’s ‘Frozen Warnings’ hits the adoring crowd like a freight train before a mesmeric rendition of ‘Villa Albani’ off hard found Caribbean Sunset – “we can keep going like this,” he tells the crowd. No doubt.