“Tom, we want to know what you’re doing later!” Amid a cacophony of girlie cackles, Baxter emits a single, self-deprecating ‘woo!’ While he doesn’t seem entirely uncomfortable with this attention, he’s certainly perplexed, if a little embarrassed, by his accession to the role of ‘dreamboat’. As a happy coincidence, Baxter also has the goods to back up this unfortunate labeling – an ear for a wonderfully vertiginous love song and a voice that builds from a throaty rasp to a falsetto scream with wonderful fluency.
Fortunately, Baxter is a resounding hit with girls and boys alike. Behind me, clusters of graying men are buzzing about him, and it’s precisely this universal appeal that has afforded him a reputation as, to coin an industry phrase, a ‘heritage’ artist, in the vein of Van Morrison, Springsteen et al.
For all the romanticism and swoonsome sentiment, Baxter’s sound is frightfully muscular. Aided tonight by a string quartet, his set is bracing and uplifting in spades. Predictably, ‘Half A Man’ builds to a swooping crescendo, ‘The Moon & Me’ is brimming with vitality and substance, while his heartfelt rendition of ‘Almost There’ is almost unbearably perfect. As it was always meant to be, ‘My Declaration’ is an inspiration, intensely stirring the senses with little more than a perfect falsetto and a string quartet.
These days, people expect more from singer-songwriters than an introspective, level-headed performance. As often as not, that’s more than many complacent Irish performers are willing to give. “I’m gonna be stronger/I’m gonna be better made” promises Baxter on ‘My Declaration’. Already, he is a breed apart.