Tony Clayton-Lea reviews former Jesus and Mary Chain frontman Jim Reid's gig at Whelan's in Dublin, while Brian O'Connell takes in an innovative circus performance in Cork.
Jim Reid Whelan's, Dublin
It was clear from the start that Jim Reid, one-time wiry-haired focal point of Scottish band Jesus and Mary Chain, wasn't prepared to strut down memory lane. When someone in the audience shouted out for April Skies, the band's 1987 UK Top 10 hit, Reid replied quick as an irritated flash: "Wrong song, wrong gig, wrong decade." End of story.
But maybe the start of something else. The gig was a throwback to a time when people wore second-hand black leather jackets and naturally ripped jeans, and nodded their heads to a melting blend of pure pop melody and a disproportionate level of feedback. While the latter was thankfully absent (it was, anyway, a sonic affectation that the Chain soon dispensed with), the former was upfront. The gig started with a cover of Manfred Mann's 1960s hit, If You Gotta Go, Go Now, and continued with a succession of new songs (including The Band Broke Down and On the Ground) that sounded familiar yet contained seeds of the former uniqueness that has been utilised by many (notably Black Rebel Motorcycle Club) but rarely bettered.
Reid's previous band were one of the most cantankerous, iconoclastic and influential of the 1980s. Their gigs were fuelled by rancorous sibling rivalry, substance abuse and a devil-may-care attitude that had the words "built-in obsolescence" writ large across them. It wasn't too long before boredom set in, which caused the band to implode.
Yet some obsolete items resist disappearing completely, and so it seems that Reid and his new band are carrying on the Chain's tradition of fusing rugged, slow-motion, fecked-up rock music with the type of melodies that wouldn't seem out of place on a Beach Boys record.
No surprises, then, and no riots either. Just an erstwhile high rock'n'roller taking stock of his life, his work, his art, and getting on with it. Tony Clayton-Lea
ImMortal2, Mardyke Walk, Cork
No dancing bears, Parfum de Cameldung or candyfloss even? What type of circus was this? The best type, in fact. Nofit State Circus, from Wales, is widely recognised as one of the most innovative contemporary circus troupes in the UK, and has a string of awards under their tightrope harnesses. To coincide with two decades in business, it has just embarked on its first major European tour, spending most of July in Ireland.
The story of Immortal2 begins on the fringes of a spacious big-top, with performers mingling with the audience, asking questions and generally being a nuisance. From there, the crowd is led into a tent with no seating, where the majority of the action takes place overhead. There's little in the way of coherent narrative but it's hardly needed, as the action swings from acrobatic stunts to air displays, broken up by improvisation and clowning.
Pacing the show is as tight a circus band as you'll hear, while performers double as ushers when attention needs to be diverted elsewhere. There's a chaotic, rebellious element to all of it, from aerial performers whizzing through the air to the seemingly disjointed nature of the overall production. Fusing ballet, contemporary dance, mime, musicianship and improvisation, the performance is thoroughly engaging and frequently mesmerising.
For around two hours the world is reversed, with all the action played out on rooftops, skylines, and TV aerial highways - a dizzying wasteland used as a stop-off point between life and death. Here the performers reassess their lives, letting go of their inhibitions, fears and desires before, presumably, all turning to heaven in a little row boat. Clap, clap. Brian O'Connell
Runs until Sun as part of Cork Midsummer Festival, then on tour throughout Ireland
