Irish Times writers review the Roger Waters at The Point, Dublin, The Dead Kennedys at the Temple Bar Music Centre, Dublin and the Degree Show at the Crawford College of Art and Design, Cork
Roger Waters
The Point, Dublin
Ya thought ya might like to come to a show? Well, this ain't quite The Wall, but it's not exactly a pile of nostalgic rubble either. He may have lost the lucrative Pink Floyd brand name in a custody battle, but the original architect of The Wall is determined not to let people forget who it was that held all the creative cards.
On his current In the Flesh tour, Waters wisely avoids trying to replicate a Floyd show, but instead delivers a compact spectacle, using simple background visuals, smart surround sound, and a band of veteran musicians, including Andy Fairweather-Low, backing singers P.P. Arnold, Katie Kissoon and Carol Kenyon and guitarist Chester Kamen, along with the former Thin Lizzy guitarist, Snowy White.
As the unmistakable intro from In the Flesh boomed out, and those familiar animated hammers strode across the screen, the grey-mulleted Waters strolled out along a ledge behind the band, and opened with an extended segment from The Wall, incorporating The Happiest Days of our Lives, Another Brick in the Wall Part Two, and Mother.
For the next three hours, Waters and company performed condensed versions of Pink Floyd's greatest albums, replacing their characteristic sheer bone-crushing power with some light, stylish interpretations. It may not have pleased the hardcore Floyd fans, but it gave Waters a dignified way to avoid becoming a threadbare pocket Floyd.
Not that this show was lacking in head-swimming moments. Extended works like Dogs, Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun and Wish You Were Here came close to blowing the mind, although the triptych of Breathe, Time and Money seemed somewhat skeletal without the full Floyd muscle behind it.
Waters cleverly slotted solo pieces such as Perfect Sense, It's A Miracle and Amused To Death into the Dark Side of the Moon segment, rounding everything off with Brain Damage and Eclipse, then ending on an exuberant Comfortably Numb, with Chester Kamen admirably handling vocals, and Snowy White leaping on to the ledge for a final guitar duel with Kamen.
Kevin Courtney
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The Dead Kennedys
Temple Bar Music Centre, Dublin
Rotten got it wrong. When the slurring nihilist announced that there was "no future", he hadn't anticipated 2002. Box-set nostalgia, digitally remastered anarchy and David Beckham's mohican have confirmed that punk was destined for the high street, the salon and the broadsheet arts pages.
Punk's future was safe.
Last Sunday was little short of amazing then, when the Pistols' transatlantic cousins resurrected the point and purpose of insubordinate music. The Dead Kennedys were dangerous. Their performance was terrifying, the content subversive and the effect thrilling.
After eight years of agitation in the US, the political punk band broke up in 1986. Sued by his former band-mates for unpaid royalties, ex-frontman Jello Biafra has since attacked his replacement - former TV child star Brandon Cruz - for impersonating him.
While Cruz does sound remarkably similar and suitably note-imperfect, his urgent shrill vocals on Winnebago Warrior and Police Truck were charged and emotionally extreme. He is no karaoke substitute. Missiles, moshers, crowd surfers and stage divers flew through the set of punk's provocateurs. Intense renditions of Let's Lynch the Landlord, Kill the Poor and the right-on statement of racial tolerance, Nazi Punks, Fuck Off, were punctuated with intriguingly mellow banter, in which the ageing punks sounded like any other American tourists.
"I'm half-Irish," boasted Cruz, presumably of the O'Cruzes. Later, Too Drunk to Fuck was dedicated as a cautionary example of the effects of alcohol. "Sorry it's not about Guinness," he apologised.
Such explanations were more serious when the lightning pace slowed to a merely bullet-fast Moon over Marin, dedicated to fallen friends. "Brain aneurysms, heroin ODs, car wrecks," mused Cruz, adding poignantly, "Fuck that shit."
California Über Alles and Holiday in Cambodia were as propulsive and freshly satirical as ever, while skidding guitar riffs, rhythmic insurrection and riotous bass lines gave nihilists something to believe in.
Peter Crawley
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Degree Show
Crawford College of Art and Design, Cork
The fine art degree students at the Crawford College of Art and Design are showing the results of their final year studies. From the outset, it is an exciting show, with the level of artistic maturity, presentation and perspicacity making the word "student" appear a misnomer.
The most outstanding aspect is the installation and multi-media work representing all three fine art departments. Lorraine Neeson's dream-like environments have a disquieting (and startling) psychological edge, thanks to their ingenious realisation. Dawn Lee's site-specific installation, situated in a nearby stairwell, is equally powerful. A hypnotic film sequence, showing a nude running up and down the same stairwell, is brilliantly conceived and executed.
Aoife McGovern's site-specific installations function beautifully within the faded character of her selected spaces. The film sequence, Fluidity, showing the reflection of a young woman gazing through a train window, has a haunting presence. Siobhan Ryan's magical installation fills the space with feathers suspended from the ceiling. Five video sequences set into a wall communicate a moving elegy to pathos and hurt.
Out-and-out sculpture is also of a high standard. The figurative work of Tima Wagner has a precise yet eerie realism, and Cara McGrath's caged figure is an arresting hybridisation of bird and woman, using found objects with great application. Rebecca Babington's formalist steel sculptures are complex and intriguing.
Kieran Moore's paintings distort human form in bizarre ways by emphasising heads or distending stomachs. The subjects themselves can exist as either humorous or offensive stereotypes. Kathleen Kelly's ghostly fragments of figures are painted to suggest a faded antiquity. Shea Dalton's and Claire Meade's abstract paintings are eye- catching, while Siobhan Tattan's minimalist wall and floor constructions have an engaging serenity. This is quite possibly the most exciting exhibition anywhere in the country right now.
Runs until June 29th
Mark Ewart
