On The Late Late Show, Bryan Adams needed nothing more than a guitar and his unmistakable voice to light up the RTÉ One studio. What started as an acoustic set quickly transformed into a rock arena vibe, as he strummed through a medley of classics. From the driving pulse of “Run to You” to the tender ache of “Heaven” and the anthemic energy of “Summer of ’69,” Adams gave fans a masterclass in timeless songwriting. Stripped of big production, every note hit with raw emotion—proof that his music still bridges generations with ease.

Bryan Adams Delivers Unforgettable Acoustic Medley on Ireland’s The Late Late Show

Canadian rock icon Bryan Adams lit up Ireland’s legendary The Late Late Show with an electrifying acoustic medley that left both the studio audience and viewers at home spellbound. Armed only with his guitar, Adams proved once again why his music continues to resonate across generations.

A Stripped-Down Performance

Adams kicked off the set with a raw, acoustic version of “Run to You”, instantly igniting a singalong as the audience clapped in rhythm. From there, he seamlessly flowed into a medley of his most beloved hits, including “Summer of ’69,” “Heaven,” and “When You’re Gone.”

Without a full band or elaborate production, his vocals and guitar work carried the performance, showcasing not only his unmistakable voice but also his magnetic ability to connect with listeners in any setting.

A Concert Hall Inside a Studio

The intimate environment of The Late Late Show transformed into a vibrant concert hall, with the crowd fully immersed in the music. Adams’s relaxed, heartfelt delivery blurred the line between television appearance and live gig, creating a moment that felt both personal and powerful.

A Prelude to the “Get Up” Tour

This standout appearance served as a perfect lead-up to Adams’s highly anticipated “Get Up” tour, which featured scheduled stops in Dublin and Belfast in May 2016. For longtime fans and new listeners alike, the performance was a reminder of his timeless energy and enduring place in rock history.

Watch the Performance

For those eager to relive the moment, the full medley is available through RTÉ’s official YouTube channel. It remains a must-watch for anyone who appreciates the raw power of live music stripped to its essence.

“AFTER 50 YEARS IN HOLLYWOOD, NOTHING PREPARED US FOR THIS.” — GOLDIE HAWN. The screening room was small. The lights dimmed. The film — Song Sung Blue — wasn’t even finished yet. Rough cuts. Missing scenes. No polish. Goldie sat next to Kurt. Just another early viewing. They’d done this hundreds of times. Then Kate Hudson appeared on screen. And something cracked. Goldie says it didn’t feel like watching her daughter act anymore. It felt like watching something rise to the surface — something private, something she wasn’t sure she was allowed to see. Without a word, she reached for Kurt’s hand. He was already reaching for hers. They cried. Not the kind of crying you do at premieres. The kind you haven’t done in decades. The kind that catches you sideways and leaves nowhere to hide. It wasn’t pride. Goldie keeps coming back to that word. It was recognition. Like meeting your child again, as a stranger, and realizing you didn’t know how deep she actually went. Song Sung Blue was supposed to be a film about music, about a husband-and-wife duo chasing a dream. But somewhere in those unfinished frames, it became something else for the people who raised Kate. No score yet. No final color. And somehow that made it hurt more — because there was nothing between them and what Kate was doing on that screen. Goldie hasn’t said which scene broke her. Kurt hasn’t either. But the people in that room say the silence afterward lasted a long, long time.

HE WAS A SHORT, IRISH-ROMANIAN KID FROM CHAGRIN FALLS, OHIO, WHOSE FATHER GROOMED POLO PONIES FOR A RICH MAN AND WHOSE MOTHER CLEANED OTHER PEOPLE’S HOUSES TO PUT FOOD ON THE TABLE. HE WAS DYSLEXIC IN AN ERA THAT HAD NO NAME FOR IT, AND THE OTHER KIDS LAUGHED AT HIM EVERY TIME THE TEACHER MADE HIM READ ALOUD. HE WANTED TO BE A JOCKEY. THE JOCKEYS TOLD HIM HE WAS TOO TALL. AND THIRTY YEARS LATER, HE WOULD STAND ON A SOUNDSTAGE IN HOLLYWOOD AND MAKE HARVEY KORMAN LAUGH SO HARD THE MAN WET HIS PANTS ON LIVE TELEVISION. He wasn’t supposed to make it. He was Thomas Daniel Conway, born in 1933 in Willoughby, Ohio, in the deepest part of the Great Depression. His father Dan was an Irish immigrant who groomed horses on a rich business owner’s estate. His mother Sophia worked as a cleaning woman and seamstress. The boy was baptized Toma — the Romanian version of Thomas — at a Romanian Orthodox church where, as a baby, he nearly crawled out the door before the priest could finish. Tim grew up in a house with beer stains on the kitchen ceiling. His father brewed his own beer and put in too much yeast, so the bottles exploded in the night and shot the caps straight up into the plaster. The Conways had no money for storebought beer and no money for a new ceiling either. Then came school. “In high school, and even in grade school, people couldn’t wait for me to get called on to read aloud because I would put words into sentences that were never there. They thought I was being funny, I guess, so they would laugh at me. And I just continued that through life.” He had dyslexia. Nobody knew what it was. So he turned what was supposed to humiliate him into a routine. He made the other kids laugh on purpose now, before they could laugh at him. By 18, he wanted to be a jockey like the men his father worked for. He was too tall. By 22, he was drafted into the U.S. Army. By 25, he was back in Cleveland writing skits between movie reruns at a local TV station, working with a wisecracking partner named Ernie Anderson — whose son Paul Thomas Anderson would one day direct Boogie Nights and There Will Be Blood. Then came 1961. A visiting comedienne named Rose Marie watched a tape of his sketches and refused to leave Cleveland until somebody put him on a plane to New York. By 1962, he was Ensign Parker on McHale’s Navy. By 1967, he was a recurring guest on a new variety show hosted by a redhead named Carol Burnett. He called his mother in Ohio to tell her. She told him: “Ken Shutts down at the hardware store is taking on new help. You should apply. That crap on TV isn’t going to last.” That crap lasted eleven years. He won six Emmys. He made Harvey Korman break character on national television so many times the bloopers became more famous than the sketches themselves. He told audiences across America: “They told me I was finished. I’m just getting started.” Then came his final years. Normal pressure hydrocephalus — water on the brain — slowly took the timing, then the words, then the man. His daughter Kelly and his second wife Charlene fought a public legal battle over his medical care while he lay unable to speak. He died on May 14, 2019, at 85. Some men chase the spotlight until it kills them. The ones who matter learn to make a roomful of strangers cry from laughing — even when they themselves can barely read the script. What Carol Burnett wrote on her Instagram the day he died — calling him “one in a million” — tells you everything about who he really was.

HE PAID JUST $80 TO SAVE A HORSE FROM THE SLAUGHTERHOUSE — TWO YEARS LATER, THAT HORSE BECAME A NATIONAL CHAMPION. He arrived too late to the auction. The buyers were gone. Only one truck remained — loaded with the horses nobody wanted, headed to the slaughterhouse. Then a grey horse turned his head. Dirty coat. Worn hooves. Scars everywhere. But his eyes… calm. Gentle. Almost asking. Harry paid $80. Pulled him off the truck. Named him Snowman. He brought him home to teach beginners. A safe, patient horse for kids. Until one morning, Snowman jumped a four-foot fence — like he’d been doing it his whole life. 😢 But he hadn’t. He was just a plow horse… What happened next at Madison Square Garden left America speechless.

WHY SHOULD KNOWLEDGE COST $200,000 TO ACCESS?” — A STANFORD PROFESSOR ASKED THIS IN 2011. HER ANSWER REACHED 100 MILLION PEOPLE. Stanford, 2011. Daphne Koller had everything — the title, the office, the prestige. But from inside those gates, she saw who was being kept out. Brilliant minds born in the wrong country. Mothers who couldn’t afford $200,000 tuition. A refugee with nothing but a phone. So she asked one quiet question nobody wanted to hear: Why? Then she did something almost unthinkable for someone in her position. She opened the door. A single mother in Egypt. A teacher in rural Pakistan. 160,000 students in just weeks… What happened next changed millions of lives — and proved every gatekeeper wrong.