Ladydoll - E.P. Launch - 'Wax Lyrical'

Ladydoll

EP launch – ‘Wax Lyrical’

Crúiscín Lán, Douglas Street

9pm, Tuesday 26^th February 2008

Support: Sea Area Forecast

Holy mother of mercy – if you want to know how to grab an audience, grab a stage, watch and learn, children, watch and learn. Ladydoll have it down. Bass and drum hunched over the drum kit and singer with his own drum at the front of the stage beating the living daylights out of them (rhythmically, naturally, but still…) – it made us stand up and take notice, believe you me.

Opening with ‘Good Times’ and moving through a set including new and old material, the development of the group from white noise to intelligent, constructed rock was apparent.

The current line-up (Ms King is Bass no.2) has been together just over a year and originated in CSN – long live the School of Rock. Their name, the roll-it-around-your-tongue-simply-because-it-feels-nice ‘Ladydoll’ came about because Mr Sedas liked the way the letters looked next to eachother. Seriously.

Talking of Mr Sedas, he is an interesting front man, speaking like Marlon Brando, singing like Placebo and wearing a tailcoat on-stage. He is the start-point of the band and is the lyrical brain. He also appeared to be having least fun on stage. Not being able to see the drummer as he was lurking in shadow throughout, I can’t comment on him but Ms King & Mr Shaw seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves. The whole mood, however, lightened visibly during the encore with the pressure of impressing the audience having passed and now it was play-time.

There were some real gems poking through the clutter last night – ‘Charm Alarm’, ‘Punchbag’, ‘Roulette’, Genetics’ and the encore ‘ Give it up’ were all crafted, individual, memorable – some of it headbanging (‘Charm Alarm’), some of it in a more hurdy-gurdy vein (‘Genetics’).

It is very bass-driven music, and not just the bass guitar but the whole range is leaning towards the blood, vibrating through your bones. Despite the heavy influence of early-90s American alternative, their sound, with Mr Sedas’ vocals cutting through like an angle-grinder, is shaping up to be their own.

If I have any complaint about this gig (and that’s a big ‘if’), it’s that the support act was not booted off the stage much earlier. Not having the main band on stage until quarter to eleven (on a schoolnight too – no late bar) is too long of a opening set. And, boys, a word to the wise – there is an unwritten rule that the second time you introduce yourself to the audience means you are wrapping up the set – it does not mean that you go on for another 3 or 4 numbers. That could be called false advertising.

One last point, and back to Ladydoll, the vocal harmonies were good, blended, pinpoint – just not very audible. Pity. Other than that, and I hate to be clichèd about it but, they’re one to watch and if you can catch them live, just go – even if it’s just to see the bit with the drums…. What an opening!

Finn(barr) Sedas – Vocals, guitar, keyboard, drum Nora King – Bass guitar, drum Dave Shaw – Lead guitar Eoin Ryan – Drums

Michael Franti & Spearhead - 'Yell Fire'

So, just picture it. Saturday at the Electric Picnic 2006, it’s a beautiful day (in between the showers), you and your friend are feeling peckish so you get some Mexican food and look around for somewhere not damp to sit and right in front of you is a picnic table with one person at it who just happens to be a tall, be-dreaded, chocolate-skinned beauty who is quite happy to share his table and chat for a while. And, as you’re walking away with your friend, you are beginning to think, “You know…I don’t think he’s just Michael from San Francisco” and your friend is thinking the same, so when you get home after the weekend, you do a web search and lo! and behold! you had lunch with Michael Franti, world-renowned musician and human rights activist, winner at the Sundance Film Festival. Flippin’ heck! No wonder he laughed when you asked him whether he filmed weddings.

Anyway, such was my introduction to Mr Franti and Spearhead. Well, reintroduction really, as who could forget the fantastic, albeit brief, Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy? Well, after another quick web search, I am now the proud owner of his film ‘I know I’m not alone’ and the associated CD ‘Yell Fire’ and bloody good they are too. I am also a veteran of his live presence, having gone to see him shortly after Stradbally (not having known who he was AT the Picnic, I hardly managed to catch his act then, now, did I?) when he played Dublin that autumn. Boy, can he hold a stage! And he is unfazed by the weird and wonderful, such as when two guys jumped on stage and started dancing around and singing along (which was actually hilarious, not least Mr Franti’s baffled but very bemused indulgence).

Right now, I’m listening to ‘Yell Fire’. This goes hand-in-hand with the film ‘I know…’, which he made during a trip to Iraq to meet the ordinary, everyday Joe Soaps, the civilians caught in the middle, and show what their lives are like now and the conditions in which they are forced to live as a result of the fighting. It’s a lovely, natural film, following him as he meets and greets though busking on the street, having music sessions in people’s homes – it’s a real eye-opener. The album expresses that same mix of joie-de-vivre and righteous fury. Remember – this is a man who has eschewed the wearing shoes since 2000 as an anti-poverty protest. (He was trying to empathise, as opposed to sympathise, with those who cannot afford shoes.)

The base of Spearhead’s sound is reggae and this filters through they whole album, especially on tracks such as ‘Time to go home’, ‘Hello Bonjour’ and the eponymous ‘Yell Fire’. There are also occasionally slightly funky and rocky elements (such as ‘Everybody ona move’) incorporated, which results musically in an album which works equally as well as background noise as it does on very close inspection, which really works for me as I am not a big reggae fan as a rule.

The abhorrence of war and human rights violations pervades all though – even gentle love songs aren’t excused:

“Tell me that the rain won’t fall today, Tell me that the taxman lost his way, Tell me that the hurting pain don’t hurt no more, Tell me that somebody stopped the war, Tell me lies, lies, lies, sweet little lies, when I cannot bear the truth, Tell me lies, lies, lies, help me make them all come true.”

from: Sweet Little Lies

He pursues a simple and ruthless logic in his lyrics, arguing points that are hard to argue due to that very simplicity. He appears to have a black and white viewpoint when it comes to the idea that people should live and be allowed to live in peace with themselves and eachother – it appears to be very much a ‘just get on with it’ attitude towards governments and other bodies that come up with excuses for the continuing existences of war and poverty.

“You say you’re a Christian ‘coz God made you? You say you’re a Muslim ‘coz God made you? You say you’re a Hindu and the next man Jew and we all kill eachother because God told us too? No!”

from: Hello Bonjour

It closes with two tracks ‘Tolerance’ and ‘Is Love Enough?’, which emerge as pleas for clemency and love for your fellow man after a storm of a CD where anger and frustration and exuberance are traded for quiet, gentle-yet-firm hope. ‘Tolerance’ in particular is quite a sea change from what has gone before, opening as it does with just voice, cello and piano, and a slow build up to full strings, percussion et al. ‘Is Love Enough?’ gets back to the reggae feel but retains the gentle urgency of the previous track.

No matter what the music or style, this is a coherent and cohesive work, with the overriding connecting thread being the gorgeous, husky, mellow power that is Mr Franti’s voice.

Jack L at The Opera House

Saturday 10^th November, 8:00pm

The Opera House, Cork

Tommy Swarbrig presents

Jack L

(supported by Shane O'Fearghail)

Jack…Jack L…Mr Lukeman…excuse me whilst I stare off into the distance…

Where was I? Ah yes! Saturday night in The Opera House with Jack L et al, supported by Shane O’Fearghail of the band Caruso. Well, let’s start at the very beginning. It’s a very good place to start. (Note to self: there’s a song in that.)

The Opera House is packed to the rafters. The audience is aged anything from early-20s to early-retirement and there’s a buzz of general good humour in the air. Roadies wander on and off the stage adjusting things until one of them starts to tune a guitar, playing a few chords up near the front mic to check the sound or other … hang on … that’s not… is that a roadie? …nope, that’s a very nervous solo support act. Seriously nervous, voice-shakingly nervous, he’s holding a guitar riff until the crowd hushes one by one and starts by singing a Beatles song to open. It was like watching a tight-rope walker. Mercifully, he admits to the nerves after a couple of numbers and we all relax, Mr Fearghail included. He’s good. He’s funny. He has a husky voice and his own music. He puts his stamp on The Police’s ‘(Don’t stand so) close to me’ and despite his nerves, can grip and hold the audience. One man and his guitar. On a big, cluttered stage. Not easy. Kudos.

And now to the main act. I’m not going to pretend to know exactly what he sang or in what order, as I was not taking notes in the dark and was too busy enjoying the gig to try. Also, I was pretty close to the stage and far too interested in what was going on there than in trying to hide a notebook about my person. Then you’ve got the fact that I’ve been a huge fan for years, ever since I saw him dance around on stage in the Half Moon Club wrapped in a feather boa back in the days of “Georgie Boy” and “Ode to Ed Wood” and, you have been warned, it’s bias ahoy.

Let’s start with the cello. Not the most usual stage instrument you’ll see out there. And especially not one which is played side-saddle. I’m not sure why that was – is it her normal method of playing or was it simply because she was wearing a short skirt? (Wardrobe is ALWAYS a consideration for the public female cellist.) How and ever, it’s an inspired choice. The pitch and timbre of the cello match the pitch and timbre of Mr L’s voice and they resonate together. And speaking of The Voice, it’s better than ever. That man just throws his head back and this glorious sound soars out. I have no idea whether he’s given up cigarettes and is looking after it and himself more than before or is getting vocal training but he’s looking slimmer and fitter and appears more a master of his craft now than he ever has done in the past. This was best seen when the stage cleared and he came down the steps into the audience with nothing but his teeny, tiny accordion – no mic, no amplification - and sang a song about stardust, which reached to the rafters and held the audience spell bound.

He was in great good humour, chiding people who were coming in late or who had been to the bar, ricocheting banter & heckles back into the crowd and generally appearing to have a thoroughly good time up there. He also appeared to be very, very hot, but that will happen, Mr L, if you go onto a brightly-lit stage wearing a 3-piece suit with buttoned-up waistcoat and then start jumping around.

The set ranged from his earliest recordings (“Amsterdam”) right through to the most recent releases (e.g. “Lost in Limbo” & “Chololate Eyes”), and even a couple which hadn’t been recorded yet. It included the show-stoppingly gentle “Rooftop Lullaby” to the more robust (and still one of my favourites) “Bedsprings”. The newer stuff included lyrics such as “you’ll be tanning yourself in the fires of hell”. You’ve got to admire the man; he brings a level of carnivality (is that even a word?) to what can sometimes be a very serious business indeed.

And as the two-hour set (with encores, plural – you get value for money with this guy – quality AND quantity) progresses, the coat comes off and the crowd is putty in his hands – standing, singing, clapping, dancing, whatever he wants.

Look it…love him or loath him, curse him for singing Jacques Brel numbers (and singing them in English) or revere him for bringing them to a new audience, miss the days of the feather boa and the theatrics or be glad that they appear to be in the past, there is no denying the voice.

Long may it continue.

StetLab / 3XE / Spank

Thursday 8^th November, doors 8:30pm

Upstairs at The Roundy

Cork Music Collective in conjunction with U.C.C. Music Department present

StetLab

3XE

Spank

StetLab is the brain-child of one Han-earl Park, from U.C.C. Music Department and one third of 3XE. Its intention is to be a performance platform for those interested in the high-rise trapeze sans net that is live improvisation. The first performers were the three members of 3XE – Han-earl Park on guitar, Bruce Coates (an established improvisational performer in his own right) on sax (tenor? alto?) and Sarah O’Halloran on ‘stuff’, as she put it, which turned out to be, for the most part, vocalisations. They did a couple of numbers to begin with, which started as sounding very disjointed and as if they were not connecting with eachother but improved with time so that the second number was sounding distinctly modern minimal and had enough inherent structure that it could have been mistaken as having been pre-rehearsed. At this point there was a call for any other musicians present to join. Andrea Bonino (of Hadasha) ventured out with his guitar. Naturally, with an increase in numbers, the sound started to fill out and what was originally rather stark, verging on thin, began to layer up and blend. This was the last we heard of Ms O’Halloran for a while (until 3XE took over again after a break) and this reviewer was not entirely sad, as she was finding the vocal work rather lacking in inventiveness – mainly long held notes. At times, she (Ms O’Halloran) could be seen to be contributing more rhythmically interesting material, which was good, you might say, excecpt that she could not be heard. And this was a disappointment. In fairness, though, her voice could be heard more towards the end and, I must admit, she was producing interesting sounds – animal growls, high yipping and shrieks – I’ll tell you, you cannot give in to feelings of self-consciousness and embarrassment if you want to do this; rather you must jump off that cliff and see what happens on the way down.

Actually, as a side bar, the volume overall was too much, even over-powering. This is a small, intimate venue. I see little reason the be forced to shout a conversation as a result of the volume or feel pinned to the wall (on occasion) by the sheer weight of noise coming at you from the stage. A word to the wise to the sound engineer perhaps?

A change of musicians later to include Coates, Bonino, Niwel Tsumbu (drums), Jason Butler (vocals) and Kevin Terry (guitar) produced perhaps the highlight for me from the improv. section of the evening. Seriously – when improvisation gels, it rocks, and this gelled. Jason joined in in the middle with free verse (I think he was making it up as he went, I could be wrong), wandered into ‘Wade in the Water’ for the hell of it and ended on more free verse. Miraculously, all up there were connecting on some plane or other – or perhaps they were latched onto Jason’s vocals, as the music began to match the words. Whatever was going on up there, it was worth every second.

3XE closed the experimental section but I confess I missed this bit as I was outside having a couple of cigarettes. Bad girl.

Spank (aka Eoin O’Sullivan) took to the stage with his cap (Dingle’s finest) and guitar and with Cian O’Mahony on drums. I find it very difficult to describe Spank’s music. I don’t know why this is – he’s a guy with a guitar (and a cap) playing rock. Maybe it’ because of all the influences which swim around your head (mine anyway) when you listen to him – Tom Waits, Howlin’ Wolf, The Doors, Blues – which cloud the issue. Despite the influences though Spank has his own sound, his own style that is Spank, something unusual in one so young (compared to this reviewer at any rate). He has an old, mature sound, one which feels like it was years fermenting.

His set had a definite garage-band sound to start with but this gave way to deep guitar, deep growling vocals, deep lyrics (I am assuming – he mumbles). There is a definite Woodstock feel to this man live – not a bad thing in this air-brushed, uber-waxed age. Or as one lady-punter put it, ‘He’s definitely got balls!’ Hmm, yes, charming. Mind you, when you heard the last number - fast, driving rock – you would find yourself agreeing. Simply superb.

A last note on StetLab. Improvisation is not easy on the ear or the head. There is little to latch onto and little of anything of which your brain can make sense. Quite a lot of the time, it is an unholy cacophony. But for every minute of noise, there are a few seconds of sheer and unadulterated joy and that alone is worth all the furrowed-brow, ‘what now?’ confusion. For those of you interested in spreading your musical wings, the next StetLab is scheduled for December 13^th, same place, same time.

As for Spank? Well, you know, I am a good, convent-reared girl … so let me just raise my hem a few inches…OOH! That’s better.

Friday 26^th October, 8:30pm

The Everyman Theatre

Cork Jazz Festival presents

Avishai Cohen Trio

E.S.T. (Esbjorn Svensson Trio)

It is a testament to both the reputations of E.S.T. and The Everyman that this gig was sold out (or very, very close to). More and more, a gig or show at The Everyman promises to be worth the ticket price and never more so than tonight.

The first half was given over entirely to the Avishai Cohen Trio, a Drum/Bass/Piano group led by Cohen on double bass. Settling in quickly, they opened with the bass on a relatively simple repeated ⁷₄ time signature theme. Joined by the piano, it was immediately apparent that these guys know their onions. You see, the piano was working to a slightly different tempo. This is often seen achieved unintentionally by less virtuousic groups who are not entirely sure of what they’re doing, but to manage it as a deliberate act? This is hellishly difficult. It was one hell of an opening and set the scene for the rest of the first half. Cohen is an exciting man to watch on stage – jumping and gesturing as he plays, attacking the bass in every way possible, you are never sure whether he wanted to slap it or take it to bed. All three musicians (what a drum solo!) were a match on stage (I did hear someone saying that they felt that the piano let the side down but I didn’t notice it).

A roaring, jump-up ovation was the result at half time. And, yes, half time is a more appropriate term than interval here, in what emerged as a contest between double-bass trios. The general feeling among the crowd was ‘How will E.S.T. match that?’

Well, E.S.T. took to the stage in an entirely more sombre setting. Led by Svensson on piano, physcally they were closer on stage, the bass was seated to play (I’ve never seen that before) and on average they are older men than those in the first half. It struck me as an archetypal setting of age versus youth. Youth is all bells and whistles, all excitement and Now! Now! Now! Age is calmer, more sedate, more ‘There’s time. Why rush? Relax and enjoy.’ And such was the case here tonight. There’s no doubting the huge talent on stage in all six musicians. Perhaps the balance of skill rested with E.S.T. due simply to the length of practice and experience. Musically they were neck and neck. And E.S.T. has a huge and justified reputation.

However, for my money, the gig of the night came from the Avishai Cohen Trio. The vibrancy and flamboyancy, the beauty and power of the music, compared with the controlled, studied performance of their seniors, left you feeling excited and alive, like an over-sugared child, wanting more, always more.

Annette Buckley - "The Ever-Changing Colours of the Sea"

Annette Buckley

“The Ever-Changing Colours of the Sea”

Opening with a spare piano/harpsichord intro, like snow falling, “Her winter’s coat” tells a short tale of romance. Not romance in the sense of flowers and valentines, but in the gothic sense, in the sense of “Wuthering Heights”, in the sense of grand themes, futile loss and tragic loves. Following this with “If you follow”, a driving song filled with yearning, the tone for the whole album is set. Bar one.

The style of the songs varies somewhat, touching on Moloko in “So Free”, nodding in the direction of the sound produced by Bulgarian Women’s choirs (remember the Bulmer’s ads?) in ‘Miracle’ and, to the ears of this reviewer, having more than a passing resemblance to Laura Branigan’s “Self-Control” on the track “Into your arms”.

Overall, however, and running throughout the tracks, the feel is that of one who has been wounded deeply and is veering between remembered pain, anger, resignation and yearning for the love once known. ‘Whirlwind’ especially has a poignancy, which can leave you staring into the middle distance (or possibly not – depending on your level of personal cynicism).

It is nigh on impossible to ignore the pain running though this work. In fact, especially after “Grey Love”, you may find yourself wondering just how much and/or often this woman has been through the mill, or alternately, has she overdosed on the works of Byron and Shelley? The lyrics are beautiful though – “Tangled” makes up for being a variation on a theme (“Her Winter’s Coat” - again, according to this reviewer) through the imagery used: “Tangled roses turned and twisted beneath my wings like lovers kissing”.

It closes with an acoustic repeat of “Miracle”, possibly to hammer home the overall feel of the work. A lyric including “The grass is greener on the other side. That’s what all the people say. But when you get there it’s only colder, the black and white of the day. So send me a miracle. Send me a miracle. Why don’t you send me a miracle to save me from this day?” accompanied by wailing female vocals can leave you in no doubt about the intended sense of desperation.

This is a dark and brooding album, with Ms Buckley striding above and below it with a voice, which is rich and powerful and perfectly suited to it. It warrants more than one listen. Better yet, try and catch her live.

I almost forgot to mention the one glimmer of sunlight among the emotional murk. Track 3, “Honeysuckle”, is a simply gorgeous, lilting number – just don’t listen to the lyrics too closely: "I come alive when you’re looking sad, I come alive when you’re feeling bad, I come alive with everything I have because you’re my honey love" might not necessarily warm the cockles of your intended’s heart.

A Feast for All the Senses

Thursday 4th October 9pm Upstairs at the Roundy in association with the Cork Music Collective

The air is scented with incense, candles are on every surface, places of chocolate tiffin, strawberries and cream are on every table (as are sods of grass turf, pine cones and leaves), a Buddhist shrine is in one corner, rich & decorative tapestries and hangings are everywhere you look and, my personal favourite, a professional masseur is wandering around asking people if they would like a free head & shoulder massage. This was last nigh, upstairs at the Roundy, if you can believe it.

A Feast for all the Senses. Oh yes indeedy.

The music was provided by Francesca Baines, Alan O’Rourke and Annette Buckley. Francesca opened with a song about a dream she had, as she explained. ‘Tis as well she did as the lyric would have made no sense to me otherwise. Ms Baines sings interesting songs, even if this reviewer found the lyrics a bit convoluted and wordy. At one point, she broke into free verse, which was like a splash of cold water on a hot day – refreshing and welcome, even if you’re not quite sure what has just happened. She does have a lovely quality to her voice but, on a tiny negative, I would prefer to hear the songs sung by someone else in order to really hear them as I found that pitching was a little wavery, especially in the lower register. But that’s just me.

Alan O’Rourke followed shortly after spending the first part of the gig hooded and hidden, just him and his guitar and his friend on drums (never got the name – apologies). This was a sea change from the style, which went before, which was swirling, sweeping music. Mr O’Rourke was more aggressive, took risks with the vocals, played with the audience and seemed to be having a whale of a time up there. Simply put, he rocked. It was about this time that I had a massage so I have no more memories of Mr O’Rourke’s set other than mmmmmm….

Headlining the night was the wonderful Ms Buckley. Having seen her only once before when she joined Green monitor for a brief spell in a gig earlier in the summer, I had really no idea what to expect. Let me tell you, this girl is classy, and she can sing! She commanded that room from behind her piano with a voice … well, she did justice to an a capella cover of Björk’s State of Emergency … say no more. My personal favourite from the whole evening though was a little number, which, was more in the swing vein and called Honeysuckle – sweet, not too sweet, just like the tiffin.

There’s really nothing left to say. I mean; good music, chocolate and a massage from a gorgeous man: what more can a girl ask for on a Thursday night?

www.myspace.com/alanorourke www.annettebuckley.com