Indigo's Ego show the start of an exciting journey

Cavanman's Diary

August, September and October are my favourite months for one main reason: the club football championships - that size-five soap opera, which masks the passing of the seasons. It throws in in the summer sun and, by its end, you’re wrapped up in winter gear.

It is my belief that the shorter evenings, the falling chill in the air, they happen unnoticed to most football followers, so wrapped up are we in the dramatic storylines the competitions throw up, the crackling energy they produce. In terms of local interest levels, club football in Cavan ranks highly nationally and attendances reflect as much. In good years or bad, the allure remains strong.

Doing the rounds in recent weeks, like everyone else, I’ve been keeping an eye out for the better players, speculating as to whom new Cavan manager Dermot McCabe might call up. There are lots of talented youngsters around but, often, it has been the old soldiers who have come to the fore when the battle din is at its loudest. I thought of that in another context when I sat down to write this column.

Battlegrounds, as it happens, was a track played by Cavan band Indigo’s Ego at their sold-out Town Hall show on Saturday night. ‘Ego’ won’t mind me saying that, like the veteran footballers still excelling, they’re no starry-eyed rookies, either; they have been around the local music scene a while at this stage, learned the ropes.

A story they won’t mind me telling. Barry Carmichael (guitar and backing vocals) was once in a band who were booked to play a gig in Monaghan. Barry and the lads, teenagers, were into heavy rock, loud and proud. They began at maximum volume.

There were two wizened drinkers in the lounge; after the first two songs, they bade a retreat to the bar. The owner, panicked, enquired as how much he was paying them for the gig and promptly offered half the fee – 100 quid – if they’d pack it up at that.

Every bandsman and woman has a story or two like that. Talented and dedicated young instrumentalists and singers give it a lash for a while and get burned out or just move on to different things in life. The music will always be there, they may step in with a band who are short or play for fun but they won’t, say, do something absolutely crazy like record a well-received record or sell out a venue in their home town.

But that is exactly what has happened for Indigo’s Ego, who, along with Carmichael include drummer Paddy Fitzhenry and married couple Anne O’Reilly and Mark Johnston. The quartet started off “flirting with a few riffs” according to Barry and in the late summer of 2023, they formed the band.

A small buzz ensued. The following? Friends and family at first, then others from the arts scene and then random members of the public – it grew. Then came the ballsy idea to record an album; they shared songwriting duties and, earlier this year, their debut 'Dark Waters' was released.

The name chimed with that of the band. Indigo is connected with the idea of intuition and mystery, the bridge between the conscious and the unconscious. Dark Waters was perfect.

If all of that sounds a little dark, let me be clear: this is no death metal or emo-rock band. The closest comparator, for me, would be Radiohead, with some Smashing Pumpkins and Nirvana influence in the mix. It was noticeable on Saturday night at the sold-out Town Hall, the band's biggest gig to date, that a majority of the crowd were of my vintage – 41 – or so, likely fans of ‘90s grunge and indie. If so, they came to the right place and saw the right band.

Curtain-raiser Liam McCabe, accompanied by his brother Kevin, is an old hand at this caper and was brilliant as usual. Ad-libbing with the audience, he mentioned that there were, understandably, a lot of nerves backstage.

But O’Reilly defused that when greeting the crowd, admitting they were all feeling butterflies. It was endearing and drew a huge cheer; from there, it felt like the band were entirely comfortable and thoroughly enjoying things while maintaining a real professionalism.

They opened with Seek, which gives O’Reilly a chance to lean into the almost-hypnotic “Adore me, adore me, adore me” chorus. Nerves settled, Catman – about a cat, would you believe – goes down well. For this writer, Fruit Flies, with Johnston nailing his vocals, was a highlight. The song, I am told, is about a guy who used to come into shop in which Johnston worked, trying always to escape an unhappy home life. It’s brilliant.

There was a standing ovation from the crowd of roughly 200 as Ego finished a magnificent show with a rousing Truth/Lies (“You only tell me the truth/When the lies don’t suit”). The gig was seated; a standing one would double the capacity and in the bar afterwards, already, there was talk of that.

The band themselves are relaxed about where it might go and that’s a strength. But it has to go somewhere and the years of tricking around, learning their trade, could take them on a journey.

Their sharp songs, chemistry on stage and general likeability should prove very popular. Talent will out, water will find its own level. Dark waters? Who can say how high they rise.