It's for arguing about his other passion, travel, that Davenport has been much in the news of late. Vying for elbow room with the music on those office shelves are hundreds of books on every conceivable destination worldwide, in many of which he has contributed as a freelance writer, and often with decidedly pithy comments.

In the latest (seventh) edition of The Lonely Planet Guide to Ireland, Davenport has claimed . . . horror of horrors . . .that the jewel in the capital's tourism crown could be redubbed Temple 'Barf '.

"By 3am, the only culture on display is in the pools of vomit and urine that give the whole area of Temple Bar the aroma of a sewer, " he states in the guide.

But along with music and travel, Davenport has another love . . . for his native city . . .

and it's that which he feels gives him a licence to be critical.

"People have been honing in on the more sensational stuff in the guide, and acting defensive in statements such as 'what do you mean, we need a shake-up?' I can be hypercritical in the way that only a true native can be. And it should be remembered that the Lonely Planet guides are not tourist brochures . . . it's their job to tell it like it is and to give criticism where it's due. They are entertaining reads in their own right, too, whether someone is headed to that subject destination or not."

Davenport is certainly qualified to speak on the subject of travel and is no accidental tourist. He has just completed a guide to Ljubljana, and now is off to Australia and southeast Asia.

"I've always been a bit of a boomerang-style nomad. My father worked abroad for most of my childhood. When I was just three years old, we went to live in Argentina.

From there we went to Switzerland, then to Paris.

My mother is Italian, and for three months of the year while I was growing up, we would go back there. My parents encouraged us to treat the world as our own, to look on it as being there to enjoy and explore."

That enthusiasm, as well as a way with words, led to his accepting a job as a travel writer for a New York magazine on leaving college. It is still one of the cities he loves, and there are many, including Paris . . . and, of course, Dublin.

The city apartment is family-owned, and is set within a few minutes' walk from the nightclub where Davenport has a residency as a DJ.

"I regard myself as doubly fortunate in being able to earn a few quid doing something I love."

It suits him, he says, to shake up the often solitary business of travel writing with the livelier sensation of being in a crowded room filled with sound.

"Not that I would give up travel writing, ever, as I love it as well, " he insists.

Being away so much and then coming back for periods of time gives him a perspective on Dublin city that is invaluable as a more critical travel writer . . . and one thing that gets up his literary nose is the obsession with property. Why, when there is a big world to explore, would you want to get tied down with a mortgage, he asks?

"We're rightly proud and get excited about our economic prosperity and development. For Dubliners living in Dublin, it's understandable, maybe, to want to own a house. But this property climate is utterly ridiculous.

What's wrong with renting?

The idea that to be a big success you must be a homeowner is crazy. In a city such as Paris it's not unusual to have really long leases of 30 years, where you can make the place your home. Ourselves and the Brits seem to get hung up on having a front garden and a back garden."

But what if he had to settle somewhere? Where would the proverbial 'dream home' be?

"I'd definitely live somewhere in Asia. I'd happily stay somewhere like Bangkok . . . or New York, where I lived for 10 years. My absolute dream would be along the French Riviera, as in that old Cary Grant film, To Catch A Thief.

But there are great things about living in Ireland too, even the climate. Our long summer's evenings are like no other, as the light stretches way beyond 10 o'clock. In winter too, you can't beat one of those cold, dry, crisp days when you really feel alive."

An obvious advantage of travelling so widely is the people you meet, he says . . . the opportunity to see their country through their eyes and enjoy their hospitality and then return the compliment.

But Davenport's idea of hospitality is a long-haul trip away from what he sees as the 'Emerald Isle image' that's still peddled in certain quarters.

"Ireland has long since outgrown its 40 shades of green and all the other shamrockladen cliches that never really did it justice. But the images still endure: inviting you and millions of others to kiss the Blarney Stone, ride a jaunting car around the Killarney lakes and eat an Irish stew. As soon as we meet a visitor we can't wait to pour them a pint, break out the bodhran. We needn't be afraid of the cliches . . . after all, a nice Guinness in a traditional pub is a great night out . . . but we need to realise that, like many of our European cousins, we can promote modernity and history side by side."

That modernity is best expressed in the country's growing multiculturalism, one of the best things ever to happen to us, says Davenport. He's aware, however, that not everyone shares that view, and feels the reason there is negativity about other cultures is down to the rapid pace of change. We are assimilating an enormous cultural shift in double-quick time, and there is a fear about change, particularly among a less well-travelled, older generation, he says "It's important not to ignore those fears. I can't stand that hyper-PC attitude that claims you can't talk about the negative views of others. There is a pious, fake sensitivity that wants to pretend that absolutely everything is amazing, and that is really annoying. We should discuss it, and in that way, we can make those changes all for the better.

"For the most part, I feel Dubliners handle the issue of multiculturalism well. The irony is that Ireland is a destination with something for everyone. Packed into this small country are the compelling contrasts of a nation building its future on the back of its past. Ireland confounds expectations but will also exceed them, for tying together all of its contradictions are the people . . . friendlier and warmer than any cliched welcome could ever convey."

THE LONELY PLANET: ONE CRITICAL VOICE AMONG A GROWING THRONG

THE Lonely Planet Guide to Ireland is just one voice in a growing throng concerned about balancing Ireland's traditional image with that of its booming economy.

For a start, not everything is booming - and paradoxically, the hardest hit sector nationally is the traditional B & B, celebrated for that homely, freshly baked bread image.

There is also the view that the big hotels -with their ever increasing "wellness" and "destination spa centres" are more driven by tax incentives than actual demand.

Then there are the planning laws which ignore the visual blight of the sort of ribbon development that results in non-descript buildings - a turn-off for any discerning visitors.

According to the latest Lonely Planet Guide, even the enduringly popular destinations, like Connemara or Donegal, haven't got the balance right:

"Clifden's central area can seem a little dragged down by tourism, and the town has a vaguely jaded feel to it." Gweedore doesn't fare much better: "Its rugged coast, dotted with white, sandy beaches, was once an attraction in itself, though it has since been overrun by holiday-home mania."

A four- year survey, published this week by Tourism Ireland, reiterates that "Ireland's strongest competitive advantage - or what makes us stand out as a destination - lies on our image as a beautiful, green land populated by friendly, welcoming people", but at the same time, our cities now look like everywhere else, with chains of mainly UK multiples, mobile phone shops and endless cafes.

Dublin is the most obvious culprit. Grafton Street is up there as the world's fifth most expensive street with rental values of up to 8,600 per square metre, while Henry Street may command lower rents but looks equally generic.

Ireland is heavily dependent on its closest neighbour for tourism, but now cheaper flights to eastern Europe and beyond mean that British tourists can visit much more exotic locations for the same price or less.

In the survey, they said that Ireland was just not 'different or exotic enough' compared with other European countries. But Tourism Ireland's director of marketing Mark Henry is resolute that we can combine our "Ireland of the Welcomes' image with growing consumerism.

"A walk down Grafton Street might give the impression of a high street in any British city, but this is a superficial view and we are working to dispel it."