‘It’s the biggest headline show of my life so far!” beams Cian Ducrot, arms outstretched. The confidently titled Victory tour is a lap of honour after a major year for the Cork singer-songwriter: Ducrot supported Ed Sheeran in the spring, hit No 1 in the UK and Ireland with his debut album Victory in the summer, and tonight his diaristic singles inspire hand-on-heart emotion from the sold-out show’s audience.
Once a busker, then a classically trained flautist, and now a TikTok sensation, Ducrot’s songs are straightforward and heartfelt; a big piano melody drives into an even bigger chorus. Yet his material is thornier and braver than those catchy choruses might imply. Heaven, the night’s first big singalong, is a ballad dedicated to his brother which confronts the domestic violence they both suffered as children.
Ahead of Part of Me, about a friend who killed himself, Ducrot addresses the audience directly: “You’re so loved,” he urges. “Everyone here loves you. Please don’t go.” The single itself is another simple piano ballad, but far more remarkable is the number of men in the audience who cry while Ducrot sings; it’s a rare and beautiful skill to make an audience feel so emotionally vulnerable.
Yet his album tracks – many of which explore similarly difficult territory, with similar musicality – get lost in the swell. Ducrot has a huge, rich voice so tailored to emotional spectacle that the show remains fixed at maximum intensity. It’s admirable that he attacks every song as if it’s already a stadium-filler, but it risks blunting his obvious talent for powerful connection.
Ducrot’s combination of approachable affability and anthemic choruses has been compared to Sheeran and Lewis Capaldi, but tonight’s performance hints at ambitions of grander, pop-rock theatricality. Victory’s pristinely produced songs are roughed up for the better by crunchy electric guitar, and a moody rendition of Everyone Who Falls in Love (Has Someone Else They’re Thinking Of) sees Ducrot hold his own against thunderous drums, looking far more like a frontman than a stripped-back singer-songwriter. The scale suits him; lucky he’s already got even bigger shows in his diary.
