Tony Clayton-Lea suggests you catch Bell X1 in a small venue while you can; Michael Seaver reviews Spatial Theory at Meeting House Square in Dublin and Gerry Colgan enjoys a satisfying production of Someone Who'll Watch Over Me at the Crypt in Dublin.
Bell X1, The Village, Dublin
You might know that Bell X1 got their name from Chuck Yeager's supersonic aircraft. You might know that they used to be called Juniper and that their former bandmate Damien Rice has been named by Rolling Stone magazine as a name to watch out for. What you might not know is that Paul Noonan, their lead singer, is the indie Ronan Keating. He said so himself on stage last Saturday night, right before swearing like a trooper and shaking his body in a way that Keating might if he were suffering from a torturous bout of shingles.
Let it be known that, having flounced around for a couple of years, Bell X1 are poised to take up the baton, run like the wind and slice through the ticker tape. This was a homecoming gig (of sorts, as the band are from Kildare), but if you sift through the goodwill gestures of the crowd, the family and friends present, the general swell of positivity and familiarity with the music, something going on transcended chumminess and bordered on genius.
Playing material mostly from their recently released second album, Music In Mouth, the songs ebbed and flowed in quick succession, Noonan alternating between degrees of convulsion and calm. Bandmates Brian Crosby, Dave Geraghty and Dominic Phillips looked on stoically as Noonan reached a climax with I'll See Your Heart & I'll Raise You Mine, a cathartic experience that refused to be toppled by a crowd-pleasing encore.
Catch them playing in small venues while you can. It won't be long before commercial success dictates otherwise.
Bell X1 play Spirit Store, Dundalk, today and Auntie Annie's, Belfast, tomorrow
Spatial Theory, Meeting House Square, Dublin
Bill Shannon tells his audience that when technique lets him down he goes for "failure with poetry". It's a good philosophy for a dancer; indeed it's not a bad philosophy for life. A degenerative disease in his pelvis means he needs to use crutches, and so in his daily life he has to deal with perceptions of failure. His response is to dance back.
He confronts perceptions of disability on the streets and on the stage, and in Spatial Theory we get both live dancing and video footage of his street performances. For the latter he sits down and wittily reflects on reactions to a person on crutches struggling to pick up a bottle or falling on the street.
In performance the crutches carry baggage, both real and metaphorical. They constantly frame his body, at times almost like a cage as he puts his arms through the vertical bars along each crutch. As the crutches support him under the armpits each arm is restricted in how far it can move from his torso, reinforcing the image of the bound body. But they are also liberating and enable beautiful gliding movements, sudden shimmies and suspended balances.
In his struggle to defy gravity Shannon is a lot closer to skateboarding ethos than to a classical dance tradition, yet it is impossible not to see a perfect ballon as his body suspends in the middle of a jump. At other times the crutches spin away or propel him forward as his feet glide above the floor. But all of this technique would be redundant without his engaging performance presence.
Tonight's final performance of Spatial Theory is free and outdoors during a heatwave. You have no excuse.
Someone Who'll Watch Over Me, Crypt, Dublin
The mellifluous voice of Ella Fitzgerald, with the song that gave Frank McGuinness the title of his play, fills the tiny Crypt theatre with opening atmosphere. At one end a small stage has been created, a space that conveys the claustrophobia of the setting, a cell in Beirut in which captive Westerners are held. It would strain the imagination were it not true of its time and place.
At first there are two, an Irishman and an American, and we are introduced to the edged games they play to cope with endless days and constant danger. If they quarrel, it is to keep their spirits from atrophy. An Englishman is brought to join them, and he too must learn the rules of survival. Imagination must be given freedom to fly the walls of their prison, songs must be sung and laughter be generated somehow.
Their interdependence grows, and when the American is unexpectedly taken away the presumption of his death undermines his comrades. But somehow Irish and English find common ground to continue the fight. Then the Irishman is released, and the frail Englishman is left alone with his character and his courage. It is a truly tragic ending.
Each role is drawn in some depth, finding national characteristics without falling into cliché. The three actors - Vincent Fegan, Gary Egan and Michael Donegan - are in harmony with the play and ride its emotional highs and lows with conviction. Director Paul Kealyn conducts them with sensitivity in a satisfying production of a durable play.
Runs until August 23rd
