A look at what'shappening in the world of arts
The Session Amharclann na Carraige, Belfast
Doherty's Bar, Belfast. Musicians gather for a session, the barman reads Yeats while awaiting his first customer, a local philosopher bowls in for a reunion with an old friend returned from across the Atlantic, a comely but world-weary maiden gets stuck into the drink, while waging a silent war with her flute-playing boyfriend. The scene is set for the arrival of a gushy young American, doing research for a thesis on the effects of religion and politics on the legal system. She's come to the right place.
The combination of music, drink, blarney and cynicism could have been prescribed for her. This is the Ireland of her dreams. Writer Brian Moore and DubbelJoint director Pam Brighton have crafted a gallop through the history of post-19th century Ireland, delivered through songs - some traditional, some blatantly made-up - jigs and reels, earnest clod-hopping and large dollops of ironic humour. The whole wicked cocktail is lapped up by the unfortunate fall-woman of the piece, convincing the returning native of the economic viability of his plan to package and export this cultural elixir to the streets of New York.
But it's not all about cliche. In this sprightly ensemble piece - which would benefit from a spot of pruning - there are surprises, as well as a few predictably easy laughs at the expense of the "peelers" and the Orange Order. Traditions of political dissent, gender and social stereotypes, notions of loyalty and friendship are overturned - and even the gullible Yank has a few tricks up her sleeve. The audience is seated at tables, drinks in hand, the better to enjoy the company of Tara Lynne O'Neill, Marc O'Shea, Paul Kennedy, Marty Rea, Sandra Ní Bhroin and musicians Caoimhín Vallely, Martin Meehan and Barry Kerr. It is impossible to be bad to an evening of such mischief and diversion.
Jane Coyle
Super Furry Animals Olympia, Dublin
They haven't even come onstage yet, and already Super Furry Animals are messing with our heads. They're playing obscure Welsh pop-psychedelia records from the minepit of music history, and just in case we don't believe what we're hearing, you can see the little 7-inches spinning on the big screen, Welsh-language labels visible.
Then the scene shifts. We see five men in fluorescent hoodies and tracksuit bottoms arriving up in a golf buggy, looking like space-age chavs or Goldie Lookin' Chain after a nuclear disaster. Then, on cue, the real buggy zooms onstage, and five maniacs in bright green jump out to thunderous applause and launch into The International Language of Screaming. What an entrance. If they had U2's budget, who knows what kind of stunt they could pull off.
But when the Furries knuckle down to the business of playing songs, then the real dazzling deeds are done. With seven fine albums in their box of tricks - including one entirely in Welsh - the band have plenty of rough gems to choose from, and tonight's show displays their full range of rock moves, from the quasi-biblical prog of Run, Christian, Run to the acid-punk of Kalimera, from the fried country folk of Ohio Heat to the electro-jazz-rock of Ice Hockey Hair.
With their new album, Love Kraft, SFA are getting sexy, although you'd hardly have Atomic Lust, Zoom! and The Horn playing on the stereogram when you're having a romantic candlelit evening. Here in a packed Olympia, however, tunes such as Frequency and Lazer Beam push all the right buttons, while SFA classics such as Something for the Weekend, Hello Sunshine, Do or Die, Juxtaposed with U and Rings around the World ring all the right bells.
God! Show Me Magic, they sang on their first album, back in 1996. Tonight, Super Furry Animals showed us true magic, and we saw that it was good.
Kevin Courtney
Turn Spirit Store, Dundalk
It has always been difficult to get overly excited about Turn. The Dublin-based, Kells-founded band have been around since the late 1990s, and have been the kind of Irish rock act we've been witnessing since the early 1980s: an average band that, on occasion, manage a very decent tune, resulting in a further semi-surge of interest before everyone finally gives up on them.
The band are touring their third, self-titled album (their first for acclaimed Irish-affiliated label, Setanta), and are raring to go. Why, then, is the second gig of their brief Irish tour lacking in character, bite, bile, and the other elements that make up a white-hot gig? Part of the reason lies with the songs; in between very useful tracks from the new album (Stop, No One's Gonna Change Your Life But You, Sorry's Just a Word, Close Your Eyes) Turn raid their mediocre back catalogue and play songs from their 2000 debut, Antisocial, and 2003 follow-up, Forward. The result is an unbalanced gig, the equivalent of a wall chart with sharp peaks and troughs.
Another reason for the lack of excitement is lead singer Ollie Cole's niceness. It might seem unfair to focus on what is an admirable trait, but the truth is Cole's jollity jars with what the songs clearly want to be, which is a mixture of tough, spirited, uncompromising, urgent. Instead, they end up sounding, for the most part, as run of the mill.
Tony Clayton-Lea
David Connolly (organ) The Pro-Cathedral, Dublin
de Grigny - Veni creator spiritus. Vierne - Symphony No 1 (exc). Litaize - Prélude et danse fuguée
It is a year since I last heard the Pro-Cathedral's senior organ scholar, David Connolly. In his latest recital, the last in the cathedral's annual series, it was evident that his technique has strengthened, that his control of elaborate textures is more focused; and the details of that control indicate musicality that can be thoughtful.
All those points contributed to the elaborate baroque textures of de Grigny's Veni creator spiritus. In the Fugue in particular, Connolly showed an engaging knack of tweaking the timing of individual lines to highlight the independence of part-writing. In all five movements this knack, plus some colourful, individualistic registration, helped to create a performance that always held one's attention.
Along with these merits, and especially in the Duo movement, a rhythmic peculiarity softened the impact this music can make. Where shape called for a push forward, there was a tendency to over-shorten the pulse, and things often felt rushed because there was insufficient control of metre - of the groupings that these pulses create.
Control of metre is a vital component in creating large-scale shape. Therefore this peculiarity was especially noticeable in the three extended movements of Vierne's Symphony No 1 that Connolly played, and in Litaize's Prélude et danse fuguée. This music does not require precision as much as exactness of expression, especially a sense of the dynamic role of each phrase and section within the structure as a whole - where everything is heading and clear points of arrival. That requirement was not consistently fulfilled, in a recital that in so many other respects was full of rangy enthusiasm, often enjoyable, and always creditable.
Martin Adams
