A selection of reviews by Irish Timescritics

Simon Jermyn’s Trot-A-Mouse

The Sugar Club

Given the talent involved, it was no surprise that this quartet lived up to expectations. Loren Stillman (alto) is one of the leading young voices on the New York scene; Sean Carpio may be the finest drummer ever produced here; and Joachim Badenhorst, on bass clarinet and tenor saxophone, is a very capable performer.

Jermyn, who composed all the written material used as the band’s jumping off points, is a leader content to provide solid, unobtrusive, but essential and significant support to the others. Yet it’s difficult to conceive of the band’s impact without him; brilliant as the best of his colleagues are, it’s he who determines the music’s character.

And that is as much about texture as soloists. Through a deft combination of sparing use of electronics and judicious deployment of the voices at his disposal, combined with an acutely focused mix of rubato playing and in-tempo performances, he created an environment in which the whole was at least the equal of the sum of its considerable parts.

The first set was distinguished by some fine playing, notably exceptional alto on the opening untitled piece, the collectively devised colours on Narly and, especially, the unfettered exploration of textures on the set’s penultimate and untitled piece. But it was the set’s closer, a driving Near Distant Future, that suggested the band was really moving into top gear.

So it proved. The opening No, No, No immediately raised the level, with tenor and alto weaving over a bass ostinato before dealing with the unison theme. Stillman’s superb alto solo, spurred on by Carpio’s drums, seemed to have similarly affected Badenhorst, who immediately produced one of his best solos so far.

But it was the next, long, uninterrupted performance of three pieces – Inanimate, Flaw and Otabur – all linked by improvised episodes, that produced the finest, most varied music of the concert. Lovely floating textures, solos that seemed as much embedded in these textures as they were features of them and, in Otabur, some of the best and most cogent rubato playing of the evening. The final uptempo Trot-A-Mouse provided a suitably lively end to an absorbing and enjoyable concert. RAY COMISKEY

Imelda May

Tripod, Dublin

Rockabilly chicks are a rare breed these day, and there’s probably no finer example of the species than this Liberties lass with the elegantly twisted kiss-curl and the rough-shod rock’n’roll voice.

This girl’s got mojo to burn, and she fired it up at a sold-out show in the Tripod in Harcourt Street, which had been moved up from the Button Factory due to that ol’ devil, popular demand.

At 34, Imelda May is no novice – she started off singing blues in Dublin bar Bruxelles at just 16 – but she is on the cusp of major success, thanks to a storming appearance on Later with Jools Holland and a repertoire that threatens to kick-start a one-woman rockabilly revival.

Instead of chasing after the new sound, Imelda has stayed true to her roots and let fashion come back round and chase her kitten heels.

The Tripod, usually the haunt of Dublin’s young dance set, is packed with baby-boomers, relieved at the chance to escape the credit-crunch blues and enjoy a blast of old-fashioned blues, jazz, skiffle, rock’n’roll, psychobilly, smooth soul and even a bit of jungle (the 1950s exotica variety, natch).

May is dressed in vampish dress and pumps, while her band – including husband Darrel Higham on guitar – look more than ready to rumble.

May warms up with a trio of pacy rhythm’n’blues workouts, including the title track from her current album, Love Tattoo, Tattoo, and a Willie Dixon tune, My Babe, but when she takes the tempo down for The Blues Keep Callin’, she fairly lifts the roof. With the help of Dave Priseman on trumpet and Al Gare on rollicking double bass, May takes us on a rollercoaster ride through a veritable minefield of mixed emotions, via Patsy Cline’s Walking After Midnight, The Beatles’ Oh Darling and The Cramps’ Primitive.

But the most evocative sounds of the night come from May’s own torch song, Falling In Love With You Again, which brings the whole venue to a state of hushed reverence.

She may be working within a rather rigid set of musical parameters, but May knows the power of a primitive beat and the thrill of a sensuous lyric, and she knocks both out with the skill of a consummate stylist. When she whips out bodhran for the barnstorming closer, Johnny Got a Boom-Boom, she turns the Tripod into a rockabilly céilí.

She encores with the Gloria Jones nugget Tainted Love, made famous by Soft Cell, but sounding just peachy in its original soul-shaking form. KEVIN COURTNEY

Imelda May plays Vicar St on June 13th