Lisa O'Neill @ The Queen's Hall, Edinburgh, 21 Aug

Even before Lisa O’Neill takes to the stage, she makes a statement – the stage at The Queen’s Hall is adorned simply, but powerfully, with a litany of instruments, soft lamplight, a Palestinian flag and two pictures of recently departed Irish music icons, Sinéad O’Connor and Shane MacGowan. 

The flag is addressed early on in the show, O’Neill lamenting the length of time they’ve had to display it, pausing her set to address Gaza and other atrocities happening around the world with a gentleness and tact that is the songwriter’s signature. It’s among several powerful moments in the night’s show, which is packed to the rafters with fans happy to escape the howling winds of, eh, August…

The show opens with a traditional Irish ballad, My Lagan Love, performed sparely, just O’Neill’s voice and the thin haunt of the concertina. It’s a lovely, soft opening to the evening, settling us in to proceedings. O’Neill’s chat with the crowd is of a friendly, conspiratorial nature. “We did a lovely long soundcheck today,” she says, tuning her guitar. “Without ye! And now everything sounds very different…” There’s a few hiccups with sound and instruments, played off by O’Neill in a way that makes it feel like you’ve just stopped off at a pal’s house for a sing-song.

Each new song is accompanied by a story. Blackbird is introduced as a song she didn’t think much of, until six years after it was written, when Peaky Blinders came calling to use it. A lesson in patience indeed. Another Irish ballad, As I Roved Out, has a history lesson on the Irish famine (“not really a famine”) attached; Violet Gibson, a story about the brave Irish woman that made history for shooting at Mussolini. Another brave Irish woman is honoured also, with a rousing, politically relevant cover of Sinéad O’Connor’s Black Boys On Mopeds. It’s a moving moment, as the room pauses not only to remember those who have lost their lives in political violence, but also Sinéad herself. 

Image: Lisa O'Neill @ The Queen's Hall, Edinburgh, 21 Aug by Jess Shurte courtesy of the Edinburgh International Festival

Heavier themes are balanced by plenty of quipping to the audience (“Can ye understand my accent?!”) and a genuinely funny rendition of Glasgow man Ivor Cutler’s Squeeze Bees (“I got the boy and girl mixed up, but at least they both ended up on each other’s knee in the end!”). We also get a laugh-out-loud ornithology lesson before Birdy From Another Realm – you’d be hard-pressed to find anyone in the crowd who thought they’d be leaving an EIF gig with knowledge of the cuckoo’s mating habits, but such is the magic of Edinburgh in August. 

The night rounds off with When Cash Was King, a tongue-in-cheek look at the digital, cashless age, followed by new song Homeless In The Thousands, an exacting look at the issues that lay outside our own front doors. The last song of the night, Goodnight World, is blended with a spoken word tribute to O’Neill’s late uncle in a fitting end to a poignant evening.