Reviewed: The Butterfly Ranch, Antti Siirala (piano) and Ash, The Streets, Franz Ferdinand, Kelis, Avril Lavigne, Keane
The Butterfly Ranch SS Michael and John, Dublin
Physical theatre is hard enough. Political theatre is a formidably different challenge. But political-physical theatre, trimmed with multimedia embellishments and performed in a whirl of activity up and down the scaffolding of a two-tiered set - well, that's virtually impossible. The Performance Corporation, however, likes these odds.
Though it maintains trademark flourishes of playful and acerbic high comedy, the company's third production is its most aggressive, and also its most bewildering. Set on the farm of a grotesque, inarticulate tyrant where butterflies are daintily captured by farmhands and ferociously fed to pigs, Tom Swift's play is high on allegory and deliberately coy with political specifics.
Beneath a thicket of eyebrows, the blustering Jed Senior (Mal Whyte) surveys his dynasty with unquestioned authority while boorish Jed Junior (Peter Daly) craves usurpation. Such desires are threatened by the arrival of Louis Lovett's sweet-natured boy, literally parachuted into the premise, and quickly schooled in brutality.
There is more than a hint of Alfred Jarry's Ubu Roi in Swift's crude fantasia and in the snarling energy of its farce, both splenetic and frenetic. Director Jo Mangan and her adventurous cast respond with physically abrasive performances orchestrated upon a space that clatters with rancorous affinity: a trapdoor snaps fiercely, characters shoot down a firepole or scuttle up a vertiginous ladder.
But where the tyrant forbids questions and smothers dissent, Swift's play is hardly more challenging.
Brutality, vulgarity and totalitarianism are, we agree, bad things, while looming over the action from balconies, we are simply expected to look down on them.
Caught in a cycle of violence and a spiral of images (fluttered neatly around the stage by Sinead Woods' projected animations), the narrative is swallowed by the chaos, its metaphors become mixed and any deeper message becomes as indecipherable as a stranded subplot involving Latvian Internet scammers.
It's vigorous but unfocused, buzzing and darting like a bee but ultimately packing the sting of a butterfly. - Peter Crawley
Antti Siirala (piano) NCH, Dublin
Sibelius - Sonatina in F sharp minor Op 67 No 1.
Beethoven - Fantasy Op 77. Sonata in A Op 101.
Brahms - Sonata in F minor Op 5.
The Finnish pianist Antii Siirala, overall winner of the 2003 AXA Dublin International Piano Competition, returned to the National Concert Hall to give his Dublin début recital on Tuesday night.
The mix of grandeur and rawness in the Brahms F minor Sonata provided an ideal vehicle for his exceptional pianism: artistically serious, never gratuitously flashy, impeccably balanced between detachment and involvement..
Although it was the composer's third and final essay in the genre, Brahms was only 20 when he wrote it and it contains certain kinds of challenges which he subsequently ironed out in his later mastery of writing for piano.
Siirala took these challenges entirely in his stride. He consistently created the impression, as he had throughout the Dublin competition, that he never does anything merely to follow instructions. Rather, his decision-making is always a pure function of intelligent expression.
In Beethoven's Op. 101, he demonstrated a committed interest in the softest of playing, which he executes with perfect control. His special quietude brings listeners unusually close to the intimacy of the first and third movements, setting up sharp contrasts with the bravura of the Alla Marcia and the contrapuntal excitement of the finale.
He played the brief F sharp minor Sonatina by fellow Finn Sibelius as though with deep personal investment. The great symphonist's piano music may be easy to dismiss, but Siirala made the first movement's plain little melody sing, and he created an atmosphere in the Largo which was as delicate and appealing as fine china.
Last year's outcome marked the first time in the Dublin competition's 15 years that the jury's decision was a unanimous one. A few months later Siirala upgraded his status by a few more notches by coming first at the Leeds. The consensus is well-founded. - Michael Dungan
Ash, The Streets, Franz Ferdinand, Kelis, Avril Lavigne, Keane Prehen Fields, Derry
Ash were always going to triumph at Radio 1's One Big Weekend in Derry. Their pop punk tunes of teenage love and lost summers trace a line right back to The Undertones.
But the adoration heaped on them by 10,000 grateful fans was not generated merely because they are Northern Irish boys with a debt to local heroes.
Ash blistered through an hour-long set of new material, spiked liberally with old hits, with a verve and muscular intent that had been lacking before.
Meltdown, the title-track from their forthcoming album, and new single Orpheus thundered. In Star Crossed, they have an anthem that will become a singalong, lighters-aloft moment at the summer festivals.
The old tracks - Girl From Mars, Oh Yeah, Kung Fu - also found new legs, all sounding fresh but immediately classic. It's a neat trick and only possible because Ash have re-emerged in 2004 supremely confident and clear in their vision.
The Streets took to the stage after Franz Ferdinand. The rising Scottish four-piece stormed the tent and playing in front of their biggest crowd ever, they looked to the manor born. They were a tough act to follow and for the first part of their set, The Streets headed down a cul-de-sac.
Mike Skinner's wide-boy two-step social commentaries cut no ice - the sound was muddy and Derry just wanted to party. Then Skinner pulled a master-stroke, launching into Teenage Kicks. Derry went ga-ga. With his tail up, Skinner dropped in a hit-in-waiting Fit But You Know It and everything was turned around. Suddenly, you noticed drinks being downed and gangs of kids racing around looking like they'd just stepped off the set of Shameless.
Earlier in the day, Festival openers Keane were greeted like conquering heroes. They looked a little abashed at the joyous welcome.
Kelis had no such reticence. Prowling the stage like a vampish siren, she dedicated songs to people who have sex in public. Derry went red -faced and wasn't sure what to make of it.
Avril Lavigne, on the other hand, threw in a few polished skate metal songs about not having sex. If her first album was all about chasing boys, then the upcoming release will be about how mean boys are and how sensible girls don't give it up to them.
It was unclear how Derry took to her guiding messages, but they cheered themselves hoarse, nonetheless.
The day, though, belonged to Ash. They closed with a cover of Thin Lizzy's The Boys Are Back In Town. It was a statement of intent. - Paul McNamee
