Siobhán Long finds Mick Hanly's voice more mellowed and honeyed while Michael Dungan enjoys an evening of Bach with the Carlow Choral Society and the Dublin Bach Singers.
Mick Hanly, Civic Theatre, Tallaght
Mick Hanly has a voice that's more crushed velvet than serrated steel these days. Mellowed and honeyed, it eases itself inside each of his own song's skins. With his autobiography just published, and a CD perched on the shelves, Hanly's a man who has jettisoned many of the demons from the past. Wish Me Well, he pleaded, in book and on CD, and the audience reciprocated in spades.
He has always been a country boy at heart. That vocal chink that's a dead cert for Lyle Lovett's has carried him closer to Nashville than New York.
Mining his latest CD proves lucrative: Dust In The Storm and I Feel I Should Be Calling You are pictures that would strike chords in the most wizened punter: the latter a postcard to parents no longer around to celebrate the good times, but still a huge presence in his life. Hanly's gift is to be able to finger life's small daily triumphs and its occasional dickie-bowed golden handshakes, affording both equal billing.
Oddly, his humorous songs struggled for air, buoyed initially by his introductions, but crumbling beneath the weight of too much detail. Trying to get to St Nazaire and Mertus Luna creaked beneath the weight of rhyming couplets that tried too hard to tickle the funny bone.
Hanly knows where his real home is though, and it's in the telling of the tale, the recounting of the bruising encounter. Past the Point of Rescue needed no introduction so he didn't sully it with one.
Personal happiness can often yield dried fruit when it comes to songwriting. Mick Hanly has been luckier than most: Shellakabookie Boy, Silence and Damaged Halo are fit for any songbook, anywhere. Years honing his craft with Monroe, Rusty Ol' Halo and Moving Hearts, not to mention the success that came his way with Hal Ketchum's cover of Past The Point Of Rescue have served him well. The boy's done good, and the songs are still flowing. Siobhán Long
Carlow Choral Society, Dublin Bach Singers, OSC/Murphy, Pro-Cathedral, Dublin, Bach - St Matthew Passion
For some believers, the account of the betrayal, trial and execution of Jesus presented in Bach's St Matthew Passion has a potential spiritual dimension beyond the normal bounds of the concert experience. This added dimension has much to do with the choir and its various group personas. Listeners are meant to identify with the choir, not only as the now-grieving, now-hopeful faithful, but also as the hostile crowd who reject Jesus.
So it was that the credibility and flexibility of the combined forces of the Carlow Choral Society and the Dublin Bach Singers in these often conflicting roles was the main achievement of conductor Blánaid Murphy. The singing was not just well-balanced, well-shaped and full-bodied, it was alive to Bach's ever-changing dramatic demands, whether in the prayerful chorales or in the angry choruses in which the crowd bay for crucifixion.
Bach also intended the believer to engage - with increased intimacy - with the solo arias as they pause the action to meditate upon its significance. In these movements, where the less-is-more principle comes into effect as regards input from the podium, the success rate was more mixed. Murphy appeared reluctant to allow soloists and obbligato players to make their chamber music on their own, and her involvement was not always helpful.
That said, there was some fine singing and playing, most notably from soprano Colette Boushell and especially in Aus Liebe will mein Heiland sterben (For love now would my Saviour perish), tenderly accompanied by solo flute and two cor anglais.
It is the gripping narrative of the Passion that gives this music an appeal that goes beyond the Christian faithful. At the heart of the drama is the Evangelist, sung here with his customary and extraordinary range and intensity by tenor John Elwes. Bass Nigel Williams was a richly dignified Jesus, and John Magee a strong Pilate. The smaller parts were well taken from within the choirs, so that sequences such as Peter's denial and the trial itself were invested with a compelling dramatic intensity. Michael Dungan
