Irish Times writers review The Thrills at the Olympia, the Belfast Philharmonic Choir at the Waterfront and Jack and The Beanstock at Liberty Hall, in Dublin.
The Thrills
Olympia, Dublin
Kevin Courtney
Hey, hey, they're The Thrills, and they sure ain't monkeying around. Three UK top 20 singles, one UK top five album, a Mercury Music Prize nomination, a Q magazine award for best new band, a support slot with The Rolling Stones and, now, three sold-out nights at the Olympia. No wonder other Irish bands are green with envy this Christmas.
They've been slagged off for their derivative, laid-back West Coast sound, for their twee banjo-and-harmonica arrangements and for the fact that they are five privileged boys from Blackrock. For sure, they don't sound much like an Irish band as they bound onstage and pound into a new song, Tell Me Something I Don't Know. But one thing The Thrills exude is unity; they know how they want to sound, and if it resembles Neil Young at a seisiúin Schull, the home crowd don't mind a bit.
As Conor Deasy croaks out the dusty melody for (Your Love Is Like) Las Vegas, the line "you can rewrite your own history" feels apt. The Thrills have written their own mythology, based around an odyssey to San Diego, where, following a trail left by The Byrds, The Beach Boys and Burt Bacharach, they found their golden, sun-burnished fleece.
Big Sur sends the crowd heaving like a choppy sea. When the waves die down, Deasy addresses the crowd in an accent that mixes southside Dublin and southern California. Strangely, though Deasy's singing voice is more of a whisper than a scream, he reminds you of a young Bono, confident and eager to bring things to the next level. If he climbed onto the speaker stacks wielding a white flag, nobody would have batted an eyelid.
Happily, new songs such as Found My Rosebud and Not For All The Love In The World see The Thrills upping the rock 'n' roll ante a few notches, but Whatever Happened To Corey Haim is a bit too clever. Besides, invoking a minor star of 1980s teen flicks might be tempting fate. On this showing, though, it's going to be a while before anyone steals their sun.
Belfast Philharmonic Choir
Waterfront Hall, Belfast
Dermot Gault
About 700 people were in the room when Handel's Messiah was first performed, in Dublin. Apparently the Musick Hall, on Fishamble Street, could hold no more even when, as requested, the ladies came without hoops and the gentlemen without swords.
Listening to the Belfast Philharmonic Choir's annual performance, one couldn't help wishing the performers could be transported to a hall of similar size. The Ulster Orchestra played stylishly and Nicholas Kraemer's tempi were always apt. The soloists were never rushed, countertenor Charles Humphries evidently relishing the challenging tempo in For He Is Like A Refiner's Fire. But although Kraemer shaded the music sympathetically he kept everything small-scale, and in the wide open spaces of the Waterfront it was all a bit remote.
Part of the problem was that we seldom got a full tone from the choir. Coloratura was sketchy in And He Shall Purify and For Unto Us, and it was not until Surely He Hath Borne Our Griefs that they began to give us singing of real tone and feeling.
Elizabeth Cragg's sweet, pure soprano and Matthew Beale's light tenor would have flourished in a more intimate venue, although with imaginative ornamentation (more in evidence than in previous years, if memory serves) and strong projection of the words the singing did not lack personality. But Matthew Hargreaves's firm bass had the right stature for the Waterfront, and
The Trumpet Shall Sound, with Paul Young's reliable trumpet playing, was a highlight.
Jack And The Beanstalk
Liberty Hall, Dublin
Sylvia Thompson
It wouldn't be Christmas without pantomime, and the annual Ambrosia Splat production has become a favourite. Panto veteran Alan Hughes plays Jack's friend Sammy Sausages, leaving plenty of space for this year's celebrity cast members - George McMahon, a.k.a. Mondo in Fair City, as Jack and Tamara Gervasoni, the former Rose of Tralee, as Stupid Cupid - to blossom. And blossom they did.
McMahon carried off the role of Jack with ease and charm; Gervasoni, whose Longford lilts were a pleasant contrast to the Dublin drawl of the other leads, flitted around the stage at home as a wingless angel in pink wellies.
Sixteen-year-old Sinead Mulvey as Jill, Jack's love interest, proved that good singing and dancing remain central to pantomime, as did the talented young singers and dancers from Kidkast Theatre School and Helen Jordan Stage School.
Frank Twomey as the Wicked Wizard gave the audience plenty of opportunity to boo and shout "look behind you" and "oh no you're not". The best lines went to Jack's mother, Buffy Windmill, superbly performed by Joe Conlon. Buffy's facial contortions alone would be worth climbing the beanstalk for.
Runs until January 18th
