Luka Bloom once explained his soporific 2004 album Before Sleep Comes as music “to help bring you closer to sleep, our sometimes elusive night-friend”; an album which undoubtedly inspired his support artist, Sabrina Dinan. Ms Dinan’s delicate Irish lilt is pleasant but familiar. Her literate song-writing is surely what caught Bloom’s ear and subsequent encouragement, and through her nerves, her charm was apparent also; so much so that her mistakes engaged the audience more than her songs. It was only during her final song, a cover of Marvin Gaye’s Sexual Healing, that we were afforded a glimpse of what her voice could do.

Luka Bloom, however, bears no such discomfort on stage. No doubt born whilst opening negotiations with the midwife, he embodies that typically-Irish brand of charisma; and a wit sadly lacking in a well-known compatriot currently making his return to stand-up in Australia.

Immediately at ease, he called out, “Shut the bar! It’s Monday night! Did you not get enough on the weekend for Chrissakes?” And, perhaps unusually for an Irishman, I suspect he meant it. The noise from the bar has occasionally threatened to spoil my enjoyment of a gig at The Gov but, though the bar stayed open during the performance, the audience was respectfully quiet. However, as Bloom pointed out himself, an audience that fills a venue on a Monday night is a willing one.

And willing they were. From the opening song, Sunny Sailor Boy, the audience was singing along without prompting. Such was their immediate affinity that normally reserved Aussie men were “getting in touch with their inner mermaid”, as Bloom put it. Inspired by the reminiscence common with turning 50-years-old, Innocence longingly recalled the simplicity of youth and demonstrated the guitarist’s revered plucking technique.

His unhesitant remarks about looking forward to visiting a post-Howard Australia and lyrics proclaiming that he’s “not at war with anyone” were indicative of a thematic social conscience. _Forgiveness,_a plea for the resolution of The Troubles in Ulster, and _Lebanon_conveyed strong anti-war sentiment, whereas Tribe (the title track of his most recent album) celebrated cultural diversity – a song inspired by own tribe’s St Patrick’s Day celebrations in Dublin.

Bloom’s continuing appeal after twelve albums and nine tours of Australia is testament to his class as an all-round performer. The musicianship on which he built his career as Barry Moore is perfectly complemented by intelligent and poignant song-writing.

The rapport he enjoys with his audience affords him a level of banter rarely experienced beyond the most intimate front-bar session. One section of the crowd clapping along, much to Bloom’s chagrin, was told, “Ah, the feckin’ drummin’ is brutal, lads”. Unperturbed, they ceased clapping and happily waved a tri-colour instead.

Bloom’s penchant for sharing stories between songs also patently revealed his pleasure for touring and performing, and an engaging sense of humour most evident in his choice of song to close the encore – a cover of Kylie Minogue’s Can’t Get You Out Of My Head.

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