Irish Times writers review Cliff Richard at the Point, I hear you calling me at the NCH and Maria McGarry at the NCH.
Cliff Richard
The Point, Dublin
It's been quite a while since Cliff appeared in Dublin. There was a bit of a verbal scuffle during his Gospel tour when he was heckled down, and since then it's been difficult to determine exactly what his audience consists of. An across-the-board bingo crowd springs immediately to mind as we navigate past the collection boxes for Alzheimer's sufferers. With a few exceptions, it's downhill from there.
If high-quality cabaret is what you're after, however, Cliff delivers. The set is immaculate and the tasteful session players are coiffured just-so and dressed in matching C&A Men suits. Cliff himself hardly looks his age, but from the fourth row, advancing wax is clearly visible. His famous moves aren't necessarily creaky, either, but they're certainly more cautiously choreographed.
In a show of literally two halves, it was the second section that enjoyed a quicker pulse. While the first hour treated the partisan audience to the gutless likes of Over The Rainbow, Girl You'll Be A Woman Soon, What A Wonderful World, Moon River and a thoroughly rancid version of All Shook Up, the second hour or so proved more fulfilling.
Now dressed in leathers and sunglasses, Cliff flicked through his own rock 'n' roll back pages. Ranging from early 1960s songs such as I Could Easily Fall, Gee Whiz It's You and D In Love to his exceptionally fruitful 1960s/1970s/1980s material, he at least proved he hasn't lost his passion for what is quite likely over-familiar material. "Sex on legs" a female voice shouted from the wilderness, which bewildered even the Cliff fans on either side of me. Well, it was a long way from the fourth row.
Tony Clayton-Lea
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I hear you calling me
NCH, Dublin
The story of John McCormack was presented at the NCH on Thursday as a set of two radio-style feature programmes. Kevin Hough read the well-crafted potted biography and there were interjections from Cathryn Brennan as the tenor's wife, Lily. Interspersed with the narrative were songs from McCormack's recorded repertoire sung, some in almost-unison but mainly as solos, by three sturdy and broad-ranged tenors with varying degrees of vocal skills.
Paul Byrom, who sounded the most mature of the three, offered solid tone and a ringing top. But his phrasing was choppy and his style made overuse of falsetto, an effect that came through the loudspeakers as a sort of nasal crooning.
David Martin, with a lighter and more even timbre, benefited from a more straightforward delivery, albeit with a tendency to push ahead of the beat.
The most pleasing performances came from P. J. Hurley, whose ease of tonal emission and command of phrasing were delightful. He was the only one of the three who used head tones as distinct from falsetto, which is a poor substitute for what in McCormack's technique was an adroit exploitation of head resonance, a different matter altogether.
Hurley's singing of Angel's Guard Thee and Padraig the Fiddler (with violin obligatos played by Michael d'Arcy) was especially moving. The violinist also contributed short solo pieces by Kreisler, Dvorák and others. Mairéad Hurley and David Wray, playing both singly and in tandem, were the fully supportive piano accompanists. Wray also doubled as organist for Panis
John Allen
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Angelicus and The Holy City.
Maria McGarry (piano)
NCH, Dublin
Les collines d'Anacapri; Voiles; Bruyères; Ce qu'a vu le vent de l'Ouest........................Debussy
Cartoline dalla Sicilia......................Jane O'Leary
Kreisleriana..........................................Schumann
Noël; Première communion de la Vierge
Dante Sonata..................................................Liszt
A musician's priorities are laid bare by the choices they make in devising programmes, especially when the occasion is designed to make a statement. Maria McGarry's piano recital at the NCH last Tuesday night was one of the NCH Début Recitals, and was ambitious in its musical and technical scope.
All the music was evocative in one sense or another. Yet while there is much in common between Kreisleriana, Debussy's Bruyè]eres, Messiaen's Première communion de la Vierge, and Liszt's Dante Sonata, these works are more different from one another than this recital suggested.
Distinctions of compositional concept tended to be ironed out by Maria McGarry's inclination to intervene, to emphasise evident matters. The hectic flight of the opening movement of Kreisleriana is already on the edge, and does not need to fall over itself in its dash towards a close. Debussy's Les collines d'Anacapri makes its points with such economy that they seem exaggerated if pointed out.
Especially in slow tempos, this young player's control of tone and detail were impressive. She was certain of how she wanted things to go; and even when under pressure, she never lost sight of her objectives. Whether moulding the inner parts in Schumann's Kreisleriana, or capturing the fleeting, modernistic impressionism of Jane O'Leary's Cartoline dalla Sicilia, she showed instinctive imagination and musicianship. One could see why she is among the highest-ranking students at the Julliard School, New York. It was significant that the most well-rounded performances included Messiaen; music born more of feeling than of discipline.
Noël and Première communion were impeccable expressions of religious intensity and contemplation. Even better was Debussy's Voiles, which, as it moved in perfect stillness, was a model of how to let music speak for itself.
Martin Adams
