A look at what's going on in the arts by Irish Timeswriters
Gavrilov, RTÉ NSO/Bellincampi
NCH, Dublin
Sibelius - Finlandia
Rachmaninov - Piano Concerto No 3
Nielsen - Symphony No 4 (The Inextinguishable)
Russian pianist Andrei Gavrilov, who in 1974 was one of the youngest ever winners of the celebrated Tchaikovsky competition, dispatched the daunting solo part of Rachmaninov's third concerto with a heft that brought his elated audience springing to their feet.
From his new base in Switzerland, Gavrilov (52) is returning to a concert career that went sadly awry in the mid-1990s. His choice of concerto for the comeback cannot but recall Shine, the 1996 biopic about troubled concert pianist David Helfgott.
In a resolutely individual performance that mixed determination, insouciance and sheer clangour, Gavrilov injected some cheeky turns of phrase into the first movement's raw materials, and persistently emphasised the music's foreground matter.
This was at some cost to subsidiary detail. Not that things were glossed over: the notes were there. But much of the virtuosity came across as strangely-accented hyperactivity, rather than coalescing into familiar harmonies and persuasive modulations.
In the cadenza and solo episodes, Gavrilov's uncommonly forcible touch verged on the string-threatening, while not all his shifts of tempo in the finale were in complete unanimity with the orchestra.
Throughout the concerto, the playing of the RTÉ NSO under Danish-Italian guest conductor Giordano Bellincampi was excellent. Striking an optimal balance between discipline and spontaneity, their opening account of Sibelius's Finlandiahad achieved liveliness at a moderate tempo, with consistently fresh and unified responses from all sections.
Bellincampi's handling of the complex tempo relationships of Nielsen's Symphony No 4affirmed the composer's more extreme markings, and made no concessions to the elusive fugues and timpani duets of the finale.
A little more movement might have helped in the Allegretto, a little more anxiety in the Adagio.
Yet nowhere could this reading lose its hold on the listener's attention.
• Andrew Johnstone
La traviata/Lyric Opera Productions
NCH
The impending death of the consumptive heroine is clearly anticipated in the early pages of the prelude to La traviata. Vivian Coates's Lyric Opera staging of Verdi's opera at the NCH on Saturday underlined this by having death deliver a white camellia during said prelude.
The same black-clad figure reappeared occasionally to remind the doomed Violetta of her demise, and was at hand to reclaim the flower and take her into the next world at the close.
The image of a doomed woman was carried through in Fiona McAndrew's interpretation. But frailty of body and frailty of vocal emission are two different things. In matters of line and sweet vocal tone she was faultless. She confronted Germont with calm dignity and projected a sure feeling of pathos, especially at the point where she addressed her final lines to the death figure. But in fraught moments and at musical climaxes, her voice receded into near inaudibility.
Richard Carlucci's Alfredo had no such problem. Although vocally lightweight, his focused if slightly nasal tenor projected clearly, and he had a strong upper register. Characterwise, he was a mite too precious in demeanour to convince as an ardent lover.
There was nothing in the least precious about Simon Neal, whose rock-steady and stentorian baritone created an unbending Germont senior who dominated every scene in which he appeared.
The production benefited from a strong chorus and a good team of comprimarios, headed by Mary Flaherty's glamorous Flora, Eugene O'Hagen's dapper Gaston and Eugene Armstrong's cantankerous Duphol.
Conductor David Jones paced the work adroitly, balancing brisk party action with well-judged speeds for the narrative scenes. I would have welcomed some more expansiveness, but that might have compromised his shaping of each act as a through-composed musical entity.
The opera is repeated on Tuesday at 7.30pm.
• John Allen
The Pigeon Detectives
The Button Factory, Dublin
The difficulty for a band like The Pigeon Detectives, apart from their unfortunate name, is taking a debut album ( Wait For Me) that displays not an ounce of originality on the road and convincing their audiences that this is something worth getting excited about.
Perhaps what's most surprising is that over the course of 50 minutes in a sold-out Button Factory they almost manage to achieve this.
The five likely lads, almost identical in their blue jean and black leather jacket combos, have learned quickly how to work an audience.
Singer Matt Bowman, as cocky as a young frontman should be, commands the crowd's attention as he climbs speakers, flings microphone stands and regularly sprays the devoted onlookers and himself with water. Even a painful looking collision with the end of Dave Best's bass late on doesn't dampen his enthusiasm.
Lyrically Bowman need not worry about any comparisons to Dylan as songs such as Don't Know How to Say Goodbyeand You Better Not Look My Way, detailing the superficial highs and lows of relationships, together with the occasional one-night stand, show why the Leeds group have earned a reputation as the drinking man's Kaiser Chiefs.
The singles, Take Her Back, I Found Outand Romantic Type, wisely scattered throughout the set, are sure to have soundtracked summer '07 for many indie kids and there's no denying their catchiness, full of shouty choruses and Strokes-style guitar licks.
But while they may like to think of themselves as the natural inheritors to the likes of The Buzzcocks or The Undertones most of the time they end up sounding like a version of the many scene-defining bands currently doing the rounds of the UK and Ireland (take your pick from The View, The Fratellis, The Blizzards etc.)
Still, this is undeniably crowd-pleasing fun. Following a frenetic version of I'm Not Sorrythey're gone and we have barely had time to register that the last song sounds distinctly like the previous 14 songs. Pulling off that kind of feat surely takes talent.
• Brian Keane
