Maybe it is an age thing, but venturing anywhere on a cold Tuesday night in November does not appeal much anymore. But an evening in the close quarters of Whelan’s with the refreshing Dea Matrona will happily get my ageing rear off the sofa.
Dea Matrona
Whelan’s, Dublin – 25 November, 2025
Words: Brian Boyle
Photography: Mark Stewart
The word “Hype” often has negative connotations, but in the case of this exciting young duo from Belfast, every sensational statement you may have heard is bang on the money.
The fresh-eyed brand of multi-genre rock of Dea Matrona has steadily continued to raise their stock, so tonight, being a fairly brisk sell-out, comes as no surprise at all.
And have no doubts about their credentials. These young ladies have paid their dues. They have not skipped the hard yards and fast-tracked themselves solely on TikTok.
In their teens, Mollie McGinn and Orlaith Forsythe sowed the seeds by busking on the streets of their native Belfast city, churning out classics by Led Zeppelin and The Beatles and countless others in all weathers.
So when you are in the presence of musicians who have powered through situations like a dog vomiting into their guitar case, you know you are dealing with kosher goods.
Naturally, tonight’s Dea Matrona set largely centres around their fine debut album, For Your Sins, a bunch of tunes with wide appeal, and that is reflected in the generational spread in the house tonight.
In fact, there are a few well-lived-in types, who you might have expected to be attending Bob Dylan, who is also in town tonight. But they have chosen to knock on Whelan’s door and witness one of the most exciting talents to emerge from the island of Ireland in recent years.
It is not often I get butterflies at the intro to an intimate club gig, but tonight the breadbasket is doing mini somersaults for some reason. And the entrance did not disappoint. Fair enough, they had to push the stage right door open themselves, but that did not dampen a thing.
The back-to-back ABBA-esque pose was plenty to send a wave of excitement right through the room.
It only takes the opening tunes, Red Button and Stuck On You, to realise this could and should be the last time you see them in a venue of this modest capacity.
But we are here, and not complaining, the wonderful rendition of Hate That I Care makes being here tonight feel like an absolute privilege. And what makes it better is they are as delighted to see you as you are them. The glint in their eyes exudes warmth, and at the same time, pure rock ‘n’ roll arrogance.
Reminiscing about busking in Dublin on “Grafton Street, Henry Street, any fucking street” only endeared them more to an engrossed mob.
If you were a novice to Dea Matrona and were told they include a Fleetwood Mac song in their set, you may automatically think a Little Lies or an Everywhere might be served up. Hell no, we get the prime fillet Mac, in the form of a youth-injected jab of Oh Well. Definitely a highlight, but they had not touched the sides yet.
Wilderness, one of the first songs they wrote together, showed their calibre of songwriting was a revelation, even in their infancy. 
Despite the hazardous small stage, their presence on it and the hold they command over an audience is extraordinary. They alternate bass and guitar duties, looking effortlessly comfortable with both. But on Magic Spell, Orlaith Forsythe went with just the mic and brought an ’80s vibe to the night.
A Rebel Song had their patriotic colours firmly nailed to the mast, not a political statement, I may add, but enthusiastically declaring their Irishness did make Mollie McGinn’s bewitching vocal more a show of pride.
Any sombreness creeping into the evening was quickly put to bed with Forsythe cheekily waving her injured middle finger before launching into So Damn Dangerous.
The jollity continued with Love Buzz, which was maybe a 1969 hit by Dutch band Shocking Blue, but most in tonight will know it better as Nirvana’s debut single. This was a more refined version than Cobain and co’s, which is probably why a longtime Nirvana basher like myself got right into it.
However, the Grunge slayer came unstuck when trying to clutch a full pint of Angelo Poretti, while at the same time looking for the torch on his iPhone.
But getting into a middle-aged tizzy was worth it to see this iconic venue lit up during Glory Glory (I Am Free). This modern version of waving cigarette lighters is normally best served in arenas or stadiums, but you would not have traded this moment for anything, even if some did not get the memo.
Tonight flew by too damn quick. It had everything, and not for a moment did it lose its flow.
The returning encore Stamp On It, teed up with chants of Dea Matrona to the tune of The Knack’s My Sharona, just cemented a memorable evening of musical flair and national pride.
In a season where every street and shop window from Tory Island to Timbuktu is lit up to its vitals in festive fandangle, in Wexford Street tonight, the famed Whelan’s was illuminated by two hypnotic talents from Belfast.
