THE YOUNG GODS

THE YOUNG GODS (The Rock Garden, Dublin)

A QUEUE of palpably excited young folk lined up outside the venue. A swarm of even more excited young folk inside took up every inch of floor space till the most exciting thing I'd have seen all night would have been the pillar in front of me, were it not for the Rock Garden's sensible idea of installing a TV monitor over the bar. Brave people ventured up the front. Many of these same brave people panted their way back through the throng some minutes later, having learned the stage diver's painful lesson that boots are more resilient than flesh.

It was the type of concert where expectation pretty much determines enjoyment, hence the very different reactions voiced afterwards. For the wildly enthusiastic - particularly the person who was dragged out of the venue by two bouncers - it was probably brilliant. For those not quite sure what to expect - self included - the momentum disappeared after the first half hour.

There's no doubt that Franz Treichler is an astounding frontman; vibrant, charismatic, possessing a wonderful voice and more stage presence than the assembled cast of an average musical. The Young Gods' songs build layer upon layer until everything builds to an unbelievable high, and then crashes in upon itself leaving you reeling. The difficulty is that with all the songs - even the slowest ones - following that pattern, there are so many mini-climaxes it becomes a distraction.

Blasting guitars, lyrical tirades (he may speak in French, but you still know when he's angry), sweat, blood, guts - it's great, but it's almost too much. The enthusiasm of the audience and the frantic stage diving becomes nearly as riveting as anything happening on stage, simply because it's a relief.

I've heard people hailing it subsequently as one of the best concerts they've ever seen. I've heard people describing it as an unrelenting pile of shite. I'm staying somewhere in the middle ground. As usual.

• Lorraine Freeney