I doubt that the grand surroundings of the Edinburgh International Conference Centre had previously played host to any event opening with a spotlight falling on a man in a Ringmaster’s jacket whilst the theme from 2001: A Space Oddysey blasts around them, or with frenetic bursts of Irish dancing. I doubt even more that they’ve had an event that opens with both of these in quick succession. But that is how the high-octane giddiness of an hour and a half with Jason Byrne begins - and what follows sets the benchmark for maintaining the fevered energy of a basement gig in a gigantic room.Byrne’s capacity for playing off the audience and seamlessly merging his interactions into the set is unparalleled. Despite the cold and cavernous venue he effortlessly blurs the line between pre-existing material and creating a show conjured up for the specific audience in front of him on the spot. Upon learning that there are two fourteen year olds in the front row, realising that this may conflict with his otherwise adult-orientated material, he decided to dispel the tension by making the two race each other across the length of the room. These inspired and hilarious decisions based on the mood of the audience give his performance both a thrilling unpredictability and a crowd-pleasing accessibility, and he performs this balancing act with incredible ease and enthusiasm. If he decides an immediate opportunity has more comedic value than his scripted material, he will throw himself at it.Byrne’s material about Irish-ness, used as a comparison with a Scottish audience, may not be particularly innovative, but is delivered with amazing intensity and hyperactivity. His constant references to Irish-Catholic guilt are an interesting thread that connects his bursts of enthusiasm. This connects routines as diverse as a belief that Irish dancing can only be someone desperately ‘dancing for Jesus’, to a hilariously grotesque depiction of Immaculate Conception, with all its possible orgasmic consequences…Byrne’s energy brings the audience together by leading them through his energetic material but never patronising the audience’s ability to go along with a joke, despite the scale of the room. He doesn’t take the easy route with his material, but the payoffs are huge, bringing a colossal audience to fever pitch. By the show’s grand finale – a version of ‘Popcorn’ using members of the front row as a bizarre human xylophone – it is hard not to feel that if everyone spent an hour and a half with Jason Byrne, the world would be a more positive place.
