Seeming a rather self-contained sort onstage, as perhaps might befit his sombre and contemplative music, Adrian Crowley has not opted for much audience interaction or humour in any show that I had seen him play prior to last Saturday night. Moreover, the unassuming way that he strode out on stage at the weekend, wordlessly shouldered his red semi-acoustic guitar, and immediately launched into Long Distance Swimmer suggested the same well-trodden path. Not that I have tended to mind. In the 2007 album of the same name, Adrian produced one of the best works by an Irish artist in years and it is always a pleasure to hear those songs played.

As it turned out, though, more-of-the-same was not the direction that this show was actually heading in. Joined after the first three songs by two more guitarists and a drummer, this proved to be a much more muscular set than I had been anticipating. Initially, when the drummer leathered his way excessively through Season of the Sparks and The Three Sisters, drowning out Adrian on the organ in the process, the omens were not good. However, the return of the latter to playing the guitar coincided with a better all-round mix. The first fruits of this being a reworking of Photographing Lightning Strikes into a behemoth of a rock song. While it may have been better placed a little further down the set list, it was still as head-boppingly entertaining as it was out of the blue.

The other surprising aspect of the show was how frequently Adrian chatted to the largely-seated audience. This produced one funny exchange which culminated in him admitting that he once had to rescue two of his albums from the front window of a charity shop on Dublin’s North Strand. Later on, he was able to cash in some of that goodwill when problems tuning one of his guitars meant that he could not play a promised first encore of Daniel Johnston’s The Sun Shines Down On Me. Frustrated, but to the mirth of pretty much everyone else, he had to call the band back out to finish solely on a pulsating These Icey Waters instead.

Earlier in the show, I loved the guitar work on The Beekeeper’s Wife, whilst Squeeze Bees positively oozed sleazy double entendres and Leaving the Party almost had people dancing! Pleasingly, my favourite song in Walk On Part also got a run out. Indeed, it was a gratifying show all-round and comfortably the best that I have seen Adrian play. More of the same, if you will!

Here is the set list as I recall it:

• Long Distance Swimmer
• Walk On Part
• The Beekeeper’s Wife
• Summer Haze Parade
• Season of the Sparks
• The Three Sisters
• Photographing Lightning Strikes
• The Wishing Seat
• Swedish Room
• Squeeze Bees
• Liberty Stream
• Leaving the Party
• These Icey Waters

Below is an eloquent letter from today’s The Irish Times by Ken McDonagh of Dublin 13. It is in response to an article last Friday by the mystic Jean Des Eaux (aka columnist John Waters). It also ties neatly in with what I was writing about last week, apart from the fact that Mr. McDonagh insists on calling himself an athiest throughout his letter!

(I had to reproduce it in full, as the Times does not seem to provide a unique web address for each letter, so they disappear from the website by the end of the day.)

A chara, – John Waters’s article (Opinion, July 17th) raises some interesting and challenging questions for the Irish atheist. Before taking up his challenge to speak on the topic without reference to the Catholic church, some preliminary comments are necessary.

As Mr Waters notes himself, the rejection of Catholicism is a necessary step on the path towards consciously adopting the position of atheism in this country.

We live in a state where Catholicism is the vernacular of spiritual articulation, any attempt to break away from this requires the (non)believer to engage in a “hermeneutics of suspicion”. That is to adopt the Habermasian rather than Gadamerian approach to interpreting the past, to ask awkward questions about the relationship of truth to power, the legitimacy of those in authority and ultimately the question of what foundations such claims are based upon.

Unfortunately, as Mr Waters rightly notes, many atheists appear to get stuck in this stage – a state of arrested development if you will. The recent spate of “new atheism” sits in this category as does, at least from Mr Waters’ reportage, Atheist Ireland. Essentially what this “new atheism” amounts to is the unruly rebellion of teenagers poking at an authority, the church, they both deride and fear.

Perhaps the desire to create organisations reflects the inherent allure of the sacral, the tradition, the ritual that organised religion thrives upon.

Uncomfortable with the vacuum they find themselves in, the new atheist seeks refuge with like-minded souls.

The challenge, however, is for the atheist to move beyond this puerile religion-baiting and engage with the questions of existence, creation and human nature at a deeper level. This is where we can move to what the underlying challenge of being an atheist actually consists. That is to engage with Mr Waters’ physicist friend on the concept of nothingness or his Spanish friend on human desire.

To actually consider the nature of eternity, the infinite scope of existence and still to assert the non-existence of a creator, a God.

Ultimately, these speculations can never lead to a definitive answer. The non-existence of God cannot be proven. Therefore the decision to not believe is a decision based on something approximating faith.

This is, perhaps, why many atheists of youth are the agnostics of old age. Indeed this is an appealing solution to this paradox of non-belief, to acknowledge the possibility of God but to defer the moment of casting your lot for one side or the other indefinitely.

My atheism is based on my willingness to cast my lot now, to accept that the human mind is limited in its ability to comprehend the nature of being, that an understanding of the infinite, of nothingness, and the shift that brings one from the other, is possibly beyond the scope of our consciousness but to resist the allure of the closure that belief in a creator God gives to this conundrum.

At the heart of my atheism, then, is a willingness to embrace the mystery of being without a safety net, to leap into the abyss of infinity that is existence without a bungee cord, to live with the existential anxiety of being a mere speck of matter in an infinite universe but to be no less human for that. – Is mise,

 

KEN McDONAGH

Dublin 13

As John Kavanagh’s delightfully bonkers playwright Roland Maule quickly discovers, the theatre of tomorrow may be about ideas, but it is the theatre of now that can entertain royally. Based in 1930s London, Noël Coward’s play about a successful commercial theatre actor struggling to reconcile his playboy lifestyle with advancing middle-age may make for only an ephemeral impact upon the intellect. However, that does not prevent director Alan Stanford’s staging of it here from being an utterly diverting hoot.

The play is a goldfish bowl of reluctantly accepted appointments, rarely read correspondence, egg-shell egos, and heartless character assassinations, with triviality, tantrums, intrigue and farce also thrown in then for good measure. Although intelligent people for the most part, there is a vacuity to the characters’ lives that makes them seem rather artificial. Indeed, most of them seem to be acting out their daily lives to the point of caricature. Hence, Jade Yourell, as a skittish debutant, is all swoons, gushes and unlikely vocal affectations, Fiona O’Shaughnessy sashays across the stage like a vampiric Betty Boop, whilst Peter Gaynor is a fretful, besotted lover happily wallowing in his own melodrama.

These are balanced out, though, by both Liz (played with an imperious smile by Paris Jefferson), whose unruffled presence, quick-thinking, and consistency of personality allows her to tidy up the messes left behind by others, and Monica (a wonderfully expressive Fiona Bell), whose sharp Scottish wit neatly punctures anyone’s grand self-delusions.

However, Coward’s semi-autobiographical play inevitably belongs to the self-obsessed yet surprisingly self-aware central character of Garry Essendine (played with relish here by Stephen Brennan). The fascination for the audience is trying to establish where his acting ends and his true persona beings. Indeed, as was the case with the wonderful Synecdoche, New York, there is a weaving together here of someone’s life and their art into one seamless and tight-fitting garment. Therefore, even when he insists that he is not acting, Garry is rarely taken seriously!

As befits the nature of the play, the production is a luxurious one. The set design by Eileen Diss immaculately recreates a cream-and-black period drawing room, complete with a grand piano, staircase, ceiling, and a seemingly naturally-lit set of windows. As impressive as her work is, though, Peter O’Brien’s costume design is on another level again. Even to someone who still suspects that “haute couture” might actually be the name of a Vietnamese communist revolutionary, the ladies’ flowing ball gowns and figure-hugging evening dresses look stunningly elegant, with the jauntily-angled pert hats then a flirtatious crowning glory.

On the whole, the play is a delight of barbed witticisms, ironic comedy, and, upon occasion, chaotic farce. Combined with some splendid acting across the entire cast and the marvellous colour and detail of the set and costumes, it makes for a jolly ado about little or nothing of any consequence whatsoever. Sometimes, though, that is all you need and, in that respect, Present Laughter… well, it’s the sauce!

Music @ Gigs

Here are my Oxegen reviews, if you missed them during the week:

• The Gaslight Anthem
• Regina Spektor
• St Vincent
• TV on the Radio
• Doves
• Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds

Music @ Mixtapes

After a wee enforced hiatus, here is the link to this week’s mixtape, featuring ten new songs from Irish artists:

1. Adrian Crowley – Liberty Stream
2. Alphastates – Champagne Glass
3. And So I Watch You From Afar – These Riots Are Just The Beginning
4. Dark Room Notes – This Hot Heat
5. Director – Don’t Think I’ll Know
6. The Holy Roman Army – Dublin In The Deadlight
7. Julie Feeney – Valentine’s Song
8. Margaret Healy – Sorry I Spoke
9. So Cow – Outskirts
10. Valerie Francis – Like Glue

By the way, Adrian Crowley and Valerie Francis are both playing in Whelan’s tomorrow night. Definitely worth going along to!

Also, if you are an unsigned or indie label Irish artist and would like to feature on a similar mixtape in the future (usually published every quarter or so), then get in touch via email or Twitter.

Music @ Videos

Finally, here is your traditional additional weekly helping of musical goodies! Guns and bullet-proof rock stars feature in the first video, whilst some may prefer not to watch The Twilight Sad’s latest offering in the office (cracking song though – new album on the way!).

Have a great weekend, y’hear?

The Dead Weather – Treat Me Like Your Mother

oooOOOooo

The Twilight Sad – I Became a Prostitute

oooOOOooo

Foreign Born – Winter Games

oooOOOooo

The Veils – Begin Again

The constituency in which I live, Dublin Central, has been utterly terrorised by the existence of gangs and what they have done.

- Senator Paschal Donohoe (via Kildare Street)

I really can be such a dumb-ass at times. So many years spent either living or working in utter fear for my life and I never even had the slightest suspiction that this was the case. Now I really am glad that we rushed the 2009 Criminal Justice (Amendment) Bill in. The politicians who voted for it clearly have such calm and thoughtful insights into the realities on the ground that nothing should ever be allowed to retard their brilliant law-making abilities.

Good job, Senator! Now, lets go get the bastards and to hell with anyone who just wants to mouth hysterical soundbites!

It seems that I am an atheist. For, as I do not possess any religious or even agnostic beliefs, this is the box that I apparently belong to.

Now, I can understand how those who believe in supreme beings may wish to avoid any classificatory dissonance on their part by categorising me as a non-believer in such entities. However, why do some people who are thus branded also feel the need to define themselves by what they are not?

Why so negative, my otherwise enlightened brethren?

To my mind, if you do not believe in deities, then you probably have developed a reasonable form of secular philosophy for what existence is all about. Therefore, why not describe yourself in those positive terms instead? Leave the bandying about of the “atheism” label to those who do not believe in not believing in deities!

Bothering the God-Botherers

At the same time, apart from encouraging some people to adopt a more affirmative self-image, there is a more serious point to be developed out of this initial one.

Employing a potentially unreliable means of scientific observation known as “things that you notice over the years”, it seems to me that people who openly call themselves “atheists” take great umbrage that so many other people still believe in some form of religion or other. As a result, they love to rant on about why religious beliefs rank alongside a flat Earth, the Y2K bug, and Liverpool winning league titles, in terms of things that were widely accepted as fact once upon a time, but have now long since become debunked and defunct. Have a quick trawl through the links on this Google search page to see what I mean by this.

Atheist Ireland’s Immaculate Conception

This, then, brings me to the heart of the matter. Last Saturday, a new organisation called Atheist Ireland held its inaugural AGM in a city centre hotel in Dublin. One of its founding members, Michael Nugent, describes its purpose thus:

Atheist Ireland is an advocacy group that campaigns for an ethical and secular Ireland, where the State does not support or fund or give special treatment to any religion. As well as a secular Constitution, we want to see a secular education system.

Now, notwithstanding the poor choice of name, I consider the above to be a reasonable and laudable set of aims. After all, even the most cursory reading of the Irish Constitution or basic familiarity with our recent history demonstrates why this modern pluralist democracy needs to have a much more open and encompassing definition of what it now is and how it is now to function. Equally, the power and influence of certain religious institutions in this country have been significant drivers of a culture of intolerance, cruelty, and social inequality on both sides of the border. These ills have now been exposed for what they really are, but the subsequent need for serious social and political reforms remains broadly unaddressed.

However, Nugent then goes on to say the following:

We are also launching a campaign encouraging people to read the Bible and other sacred books. Objectively reading the Bible is one of the strongest arguments for rejecting the idea of gods as intervening creators or moral guides.

Now, there is little wrong with a touch of publicity-grabbing audacity and there is also plenty of wry humour to be found in this notion of reverse-evangelicalism. Perhaps we could even call their campaigners dismissionaries. At the same time, it is back once more to this whole obsession of fighting emotion with logic, belief with proof, and faith with fact.

I really do find it a strange fixation of “atheists” that they are filled with this zealous desire to convert the God-believing heathen to the community of believers-in-whatever-you-are-having-yourself-boss-so-long-as-it-has-nowt-to-do-with-ominpotent-beings-sitting-on-clouds-all-day-or-the-likes. A cheeky point, perhaps, but, in some ways, these “atheists” have more in common with religious fundamentalists than they do with me!

Denigration is for Weak Minds (and Bloggers!)

Now, while the whole issue of how religious belief interacts with a secular society does throw up a number of thorny challenges to try and resolve (e.g. the wearing of headscarves or crucifixes in schools), simply put, “rejecting the idea of gods as intervening creators or moral guides” is another kettle of loaves and fishes entirely.

Indeed, at this juncture, it is worth recalling what Article 18 of the 33-year old International Covenant of Civil and Political Rights has to say for itself:

Everyone shall have the right to freedom of thought, conscience and religion. This right shall include freedom to have or to adopt a religion or belief of his choice, and freedom, either individually or in community with others and in public or private, to manifest his religion or belief in worship, observance, practice and teaching;

No one shall be subject to coercion which would impair his freedom to have or to adopt a religion or belief of his choice;

Freedom to manifest one’s religion or beliefs may be subject only to such limitations as are prescribed by law and are necessary to protect public safety, order, health, or morals or the fundamental rights and freedoms of others; and

The States Parties to the present Covenant undertake to have respect for the liberty of parents and, when applicable, legal guardians to ensure the religious and moral education of their children in conformity with their own convictions.

Of course, I am not accusing the members of Atheist Ireland of wishing to deny others their fundamental human rights. At the same time, I am wary of any organisation that even casually flirts with an agenda of intolerance, no matter how well-intentioned or softly-spoken that they may consider their goals to be. Indeed, to ask one simple question, derived from a point made earlier, why not take the affirmative approach instead of promoting secular philosophies?

Therefore, as well as suggesting that they might come up with a more inclusive name for their organisation, I would call upon Atheist Ireland to cease being a body that has the deliberate disparagement of other people’s personal beliefs as one of its stated goals. What good is to come of this? After all, the establishment of a modern, ethical, and secular society is a noble and worthy ambition. Do not sully it with this negative, confrontational, and, dare I say it, rather juvenile other agenda. Truth be told, it just sounds like a bad episode of The West Wing.

A handy fringe benefit of going to see Doves was the subsequent chance to watch how the roadies do the huge set-up for Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds from scratch in half-an-hour. The highlight (literally) had to be the three impressive batteries of lighting cans that were strapped onto the rigging and hoisted up into the air. Whilst resting on the ground, they looked like something out of a Terminator movie.

At the same time, hi-tech, hi-schmeck! After all, were we not really there for some Old Testament-style fire and brimstone, brothers and sisters?

And, with little ceremony, out bounced auld Nick and the rest of the band as soon as the stage was good to go. Shorn of moustaches since the last time that I saw him and dressed this time in a khaki three-piece suit with drainpipe trousers and a lime green shirt, Cave is as sleek and as dapper as ever. However, with his frenetic onstage energy, it is no surprise to see the jacket and waistcoat being discarded after a few songs. Tough work being the harbinger of rain – or so he was threatening the water-weary audience with, the infernal Antipodean devil.

Opening with Papa Won’t Leave You, Henry, the set list goes on to feature songs from at least a half-dozen of their albums, with numbers from The Good Son and Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!! featuring most prominently.

It is an intense affair, with most of the attention focused on Cave, as he prowls up and down the edge of the stage, eyeballing individual members of the audience and demanding that they have a good time. Few resist. Beside him, the barefoot and wild-haired Warren Ellis is either rolling around on the ground or facing the speakers and playing the violin like a mad man. The image in my head is of him standing astride a grave, trying to get some Larry Lazarus to rise up by dint of his music alone.

As was the case in Dublin Castle last year, Shane MacGowan emerges at the end to perform Lucy with the band. However, it is nigh on impossible to disentangle the voyeurism from the musicianship these days, especially as his voice is now little more than a barely coherent slur. With some idea for how Cave and some of the Bad Seeds cleaned up their act, it is difficult also not to think about the road not taken.

On the whole, though, it was a thoroughly rocking set to close out what had been a relentless 11 hours of music that day.

When confronted with facts such as all of the members of Doves turn forty next year, you do start to become conscious of those wrinkles around the eyes, those renegade grey hairs, and those no-longer hollow cheek bones a lot more. Flipping hell, where did the time go to? At the same time, this band did take a while to get things right and Lost Souls did only come out in 2000 after all. Still and all, their first two albums feel like they came out a lifetime ago.

Now, there are some interesting comparisons to be made about the respective careers of Elbow and Doves. Two bands from the north-west of England who all seem like thoroughly good lads to have a pint with. Both have also produced some memorable tunes across four albums each. For a time, Doves seemed to have the edge with two Mercury Award nominations and two number one albums in the UK. However, in winning the Mercury last year, Elbow’s time has finally come and it was they who were still perfoming on the main stage, as Doves took to the next biggest one. However, I have seen Elbow several times in recent years, but the brothers Williams and Jimi Goodwin have been off my radar for a while. So, it was to a place at the front of that stage that we ventured.

It proved to be a very mellow affair on the whole, played to an enthusiastic crowd of sing-along out-of-tuners (there are no prizes for guessing that the bars shut promptly at 10pm)! Most of the set came from this year’s Kingdom of Rust album, including set opener Jetstream, 10:03, and the album’s titular track. Unsurprisingly, they also found time for a few old reliables such as Pounding, Black and White Town, and the inevitable show closer in the superlative There Goes the Fear.

The band was also able to take advantage of the twilight passing into night time in order to produce a video backdrop for the final songs of the set – mostly of car journeys, I seem to recall. There may well be a better meaning to be extracted from such images. However, I think that I will settle for saying that it has been a long road, but this band has a distance to go yet. Forty is the new thirty after all… or so those already there assure me!

As noted on these pages last November, I tend to succumb to undue expectations ahead of TV On The Radio gigs and end up feeling a touch disappointed afterwards. Having successfully resisted doing so for virtually all of the week, I fell at the final hurdle on Saturday evening thanks to just how good St. Vincent had been. Fortunately, despite the vocals again sounding rather garbled (even when it was just banter between songs!!), this was a pretty stonking performance from the Brooklyn brigade.

At the same time, the atmosphere was definitely aided and abetted by a rare Oxegen crowd looking to bop like bejaysus to some quality music. To put that in context, I think that I started out a dozen rows back, bounced my way right to the front, and then got carried back a few rows afterwards. Simply put, girls doing each others’ make-up, kids having cutesy wee group hugs, and country bumpkins asking if this is the act that had been on two hours earlier (these all happened to me at some stage this weekend, folks) were, for a time at least, personae non gratae. Ahh, sweet but short festival bliss!

Tunde Adebimpe was in cracking form throughout. He could barely stand still for a second, doing his lithe skip dancing and hand gesticulations, as he poured it on with the vocals. A friend remarked on how he always seems to be wearing loose and ill-fitting clothes onstage. I cannot say that I pay close attention to such matters. However, I guess that when you are doing that much leaping about in the hothouse that is a busy 11,000-capacity tent, you can probably afford to light cigars with twenty-dollar bills,  if you choose to do so in designer clobber!

Anyway, the highlights were not too surprising – Golden Age, Wolf Like Me, and Young Liars. The last two, in particular, I absolutely adore as songs. As always, the power of David Sitek on guitar was amazing, with Kyp Malone and the rest of the band then providing a fine rhytym section. A great, bodyshaking show on the whole, that was finished off in a beautifully intense fashion by Staring at the Sun… Tunde never said that it would be their last song though and it took the brain a few seconds afterwards to digest the fact that they were finished and now waving goodbye. Damn and blast, at times, to these shortened festival run-outs!

Speaking of artists that I have been following from relatively early stages in their careers, the first time that I saw St. Vincent, she was a solo support act for The National, who nervously introduced herself as Annie Clark from Texas. That was 2007. The second time was in the slightly unusual setting of The Sugar Club, where she had a touring band with her and produced a better insight into her talent. I still recall Paris Is Burning from that show as being utterly awesome.

Turning up under the protection of one of the “new bands” tents, she was dressed before the show in a broad-collared, waist-length leather jacket which, combined with her curly mop of black hair and electric guitar, brought Lou Reed to mind. This was an impression that was later reinforced by the announcement that this was now St. Vincent from New York!

Although Annie looks a little dead-eyed from the conveyor-belt life that is the festival circuit, the show is the highlight of the day for me. Mostly playing from her new album Actor, her performance level has gone up several notches in the past couple of years. There is now an unruffled assurance to her guitar playing that is in stark contrast to the incredible sonicaganza being produced. One amusing aspect though is that the electronic side of the performance is such that her backing band sometimes has actually nothing to do except wink at excited fans at the front!

The saxophone player though is her new secret weapon. Only truly unleashed for the last two songs, he plays with a big-note gusto that is so full of joyous, this-is-why-I-go-to-live-music sounds that my babbling enthusiasm was pretty much unbearable to be around while we waited afterwards next door for TV on the Radio to get going. Specifically, the reworking of Your Lips Are Red to finish on was abso-freaking-lutely fantastic. Another hour or so of this show was sorely missing.

Admittedly, netting out those simply seeking short-term sanctuary from the rain, the appreciative members of the audience may not have been the most numerous of a festival not especially given to promoting acts of this nature. However, there is little doubt that St. Vincent is being propelled along a fantastic musical trajectory at present. Expect to hear much more about her over the next few years and, under no circumstances, turn down the chance to see her perform live!