Apart from its use as a multiple bus terminus, Middle Abbey Street has been dead after dark since the Adelphi and Lighthouse cinemas were swallowed up by Arnott's; the Adelphi's once-busy foyer is now occupied by one of the most dreadful entrances in Dublin, the concrete-walled jaws of a multi-storey car-park.
The Hot Press Irish Music Hall of Fame should liven things up. Located across the street from the gaping hole in the Adelphi's facade, it has clearly set out to grab people's attention. The entrance is double-height and so is the huge, centrally-positioned window above it; they make it look wacky and out-of-scale.
On one side, there is the dark and brooding ATGWU headquarters from the early-1980s and, on the other, a Georgian house refurbished as a hotel. The Hall of Fame stands out, very deliberately. Because it is quite narrow, not much more than 15 feet, it must double as a billboard to advertise the activities going on inside.
The site extends all the way back to the North Lotts, where the pointed gables of a late-Victorian warehouse are now oversailed by the curved metallic roof of the new Hot Press venue. It was to have housed a theatre-in-the-round, known as the Vesuvius project, but this concept collapsed when it failed to secure public funding.
The entire property had been purchased by investor Cyril O'Brien, who created The George, Dublin's largest gay bar, and still owns the Adams Trinity Hotel, the Mercantile Bar and Grill, O'Brien's pub and the Boilerhouse. One of the distinct advantages was its location in an area designated for urban renewal tax incentives. Niall Stokes, editor and publisher of Hot Press, had been planning to locate its Hall of Fame project on Trinity Street, in the building now occupied by Cuba, with Paul Keogh as the architect. But this scheme was abandoned when Mr Stokes pooled his resources with Mr O'Brien and decided to develop it on Abbey Street instead.
Desmond FitzGerald Architects know it well. They were originally retained five years ago to design the Vesuvius Arts scheme, which would also have catered for live music, and have been largely responsible for its metamorphosis into "HQ", as the Hot Press people have dubbed their Hall of Fame venue.
"Every time you turn around, something else has been added", he sighs. And it's true - there is an essential clutter about the place, as if there's just too much going on. The ground-floor restaurant, for example, would have been much more attractive if there wasn't a retail area behind a screen that seems to wrap around it.
But first, the face it presents to Abbey Street. There was a 1920s building on the site, and Desmond FitzGerald took the view that Middle Abbey Street "is not Fitzwilliam Square" and could take an eclectic gesture or two. It is also primarily a night-time building, seen at its best after dark when the lighting shows it off to startling effect.
The parapet treatment seems quite bizarre, as if the building had been reduced by the removal of its top floor, only to have it reappear again but set back like a penthouse. It is unfinished, according to the architect, who would like to see the Saw Doctors play on the terrace, as the Beatles famously did on a roof in central London.
THE white-painted plaster is rough, as if it had been done with tiny pebbledash, though Mr FitzGerald believes that another coat of paint might make it look smoother. What this example shows, however, is that we seem to be almost incapable of producing the kind of smooth surfaces that are done so well elsewhere in Europe. Limestone panels frame the entrance, with a tiny box office to the right; technically this has a different address, as theatre licensing laws here specify that tickets for any performance after 9 p.m. must be sold "off the premises". The panels were carved in an enchanting, child-like style by artist Georgie McCutcheon, of Co Kilkenny.
Inside, there doesn't seem to be a plain, undecorated wall in the place. Some walls are plastered with posters, others have more sophisticated props, such as the curly chrome lighting fixtures by Shane Holland or the top-lit display cases containing Hollywood-style hand-prints of Ireland's music stars in lurid coloured plaster.
The Abbey Street and North Lotts buildings are now linked by an extraordinary series of steel ramps and staircases, criss-crossing the former garden space at different angles. These are all limestone-flagged, which seems slightly sombre for the zaniness of its setting. The elegant handrails are done in light oak.
Desmond FitzGerald insists on using natural materials where ever possible and doffs his philosophical cap to Alvar Aalto in this and other respects; he has long been a fan of the great Finnish architect and his more humane, organic approach, by contrast with the ritualistic modernism of most of his contemporaries.
Elements of the old warehouse have been retained, including cast-iron columns, while some brick walls have been left exposed in memory of its previous use. Red lino in the entrance area is the same as in Bewley's. "We were trying to use traditional Irish materials but not in a cliched or nostalgic way", Mr FitzGerald explained.
The most surprising thing about the HQ venue is that it's so bright and cheerful. A roof light, 12 ft square, floods the galleried space with natural light, permitting the use of a strong colour scheme; it couldn't be more different to the standard "black-box" - a concept which the architect said he had never found convincing. Accommodating 550 people seated, with standing room for 80 more, the venue retains a vestige of the circular space originally planned for the Vesuvius project. A gallery curves around three sides and the stage projects onto the beech floor below, so that nobody is more than 35 ft from the stage. In other words, it's really intimate.
Only the curved rows of banquettes are fixed; the red leather seats on chrome stands, and the little circular tables, are all moveable. "It works very sociably before the gig, with people wandering around like at a big party," according to the architect. There has also been "very good feedback" from performers - even Grace Jones.
Because of the large number of apartments along the North Lotts, the venue had to be acoustically sealed as far as possible. There is a beech floor near the stage which can be cleared for dancing. Thin square columns supporting the gallery are covered in newsprint, first done by McCullough Mulvin for Wolfman Jack's in Rathmines.
A long bar occupies most of the rear wall; it is in light oak, with stainless steel and backlit recessed perspex at floor level. Naturally, too, the entire roof structure is left exposed. Elsewhere in the building, the metal decking into which concrete was poured to form upper floors has been retained as a very effective ceiling finish.
Entry to the venue is under a dark blue ceiling dotted with fibre-optic "stars" and there are lots of little references to music in other details, such as door handles. Bathrooms are quite unexpectedly lavish. What of the Hall of Fame itself? Well, there is something of a jukebox feel to the sequence of tight exhibition spaces crammed with memorabilia - including an Eileen Reed outfit from the showband era.
DESMOND FitzGerald was ably assisted by Stephen Doyle, a young architect not long out of UCD, who "practically lived on the site for the past 18 months", dealing with every crisis and change of plan. One of his favourite spaces is the tiny egg-shaped auditorium, claimed to be the first in Ireland with DVD (digital video disc) projection.
The main bar behind the big window is dedicated to Bill Graham, the late and much-lamented star of the Hot Press journalism stable. Back-lit glass panels etched with excerpts from his work give a real insight into his unconventional view of the world. Here, too, the colourful neon signage is best seen at night.
