Irish Times writers review Autamata at the Temple Bar Music Centre, Norma Winstone/Tommy Halferty at Boom Boom Room, Dublin, Fringe Festival plays at various locations in Dublin

Autamata

Temple Bar Music Centre

Tony Clayton-Lea

It's big production number time for Dublin's Autamata - they've got an unfeasibly large collection of bells, whistles, gizmos, dry ice, backdrops and musical instruments, and boy are they going to use them. Yet if there's a danger that these diversionary tactics might take away from the music, then it's something that's quickly diffused by a series of hefty blows from superior songs. The opener, Bring it On, is as much a mission statement as anything else.

Most of the set is taken from the band's recently released album, Short Stories; it's a neat and concise collection molded into even tighter shape by Ken McHugh (Autamata's nominal leader) and two singers/songwriters, Carol Keogh and Sarah Verdon. As has been usual from Autamata's outset, McHugh is the silent partner, content to fret over the music while simultaneously casting imperious glances over at the femmes to make sure they're keeping up.

He needn't worry - Keogh does most of the talking and singing. On tracks such as Goldilocks, Out of This, I Spy, and Liberty Bell (the latter two, in particular, are world class tunes), she is equal parts buttoned-lip, pencil skirt executive and gleeful, flirty party girl; Verdon generously adds to the mix with somewhat more vampish flourishes. Together, they form a frontline of attack that is as bold as it is lithe - although both singers could do with attending a crash course in Better Between-Song Chat, which was largely as flat as the stage floor they were standing on.

Ultimately, however, this was a night to celebrate, not nit-pick. From the first album, My Sanctuary, to Short Stories, Autamata have taken quite an idiosyncratic path that owes little or nothing to anything other than their own perceptive, subtle and often thrilling instincts. The big production values behind a gig such as this will surely have to be excised from most other smaller Irish venues. What won't be missing is something that many other Irish acts lack - two very good user-friendly albums stuffed with credible radio-friendly songs.

Norma Winstone/Tommy Halferty

Boom Boom Room, Dublin

Ray Comiskey

The Boom Boom Room was packed to capacity on Thursday night for the visit of the great British singer, Norma Winstone, linking up after a gap of several years with local guitarist Tommy Halferty. Clearly anticipating something special, the audience contained many Irish singers and instrumentalists, as well as those who recall the pair's celebrated performance at the Bank Of Ireland Arts Centre a few years ago.

They got it. It was apparent almost immediately that the musical chemistry between them was still strong. With Winstone secure in the knowledge that she could take her usual liberties with line and time and be followed with the utmost sensitivity by Halferty, what followed was in most respects a classic demonstration of the art of jazz singing.

Their opening piece, Angel Eyes, illustrated several aspects of their joint art; Winstone's sheer poise in handling lyrics and her musicianly ability to scat - improvise wordless vocals - along with Halferty's exquisite sense of obbligato and dynamics. She also contributed the lyrics for their second song, Carla Bley's Sing Me Softly Of The Blues, a clever assemblage of song titles that contrived to make sense; she wound it up with a stunning scat vocal.

It was hard to believe such cohesion was achieved with virtually no time together beforehand, let alone rehearsal. Harder still, in a way, to bring a third voice into this setting in the French bassist, Michel Zenino. An excellent player, inventive, with abundant technique, a fine tone and quick ears, he was faced with the challenge of integrating himself into this intimate duo, coping well with the unison voice/guitar/bass line of John McLaughlin's Little Miss Valli and producing a strong, confident bass solo.

At the same time, one felt that Jimmy Rowles's gorgeous tune, The Peacocks, for which Winstone wrote the lyrics, would have fared even better as a duo, although the trio was fully on top of it during her superb vocal reprise.

And their dynamics on a valedictory Everybody's Talking At Me were impressive. There was some roughness, however, on the first set's closer, Ladies In Mercedes, where the bass had some problems with the changes on Steve Swallow's tricky tune.

The second set was mostly voice and guitar duets, although the bass joined in for several songs, including a marvellous encore, Swallow's witty The City Of Dallas, which was probably the best trio performance of the night. And the rapport between singer and guitarist continued to delight through such as With A Song In My Heart, a superb, lingering Wichita Lineman and the inviting changes of I'll Remember April in a second set full of things to treasure. It was that kind of night.

Fringe Reviews

Dublinsongs

Spiegeltent

Anna Carey

Billed as a humorous and satirical take on contemporary life in Dublin as we know it, Conor Linehan and Cathal Synott's Dublinsongs doesn't quite do what it says on the tin. As Synott (who serves as master of ceremonies, as well as showing his impressive vocal talents) explains from the stage, it became a chance for a group of writers to perform some of their recent work, regardless of subject matter. So essentially, it's a rather glamorous singer-songwriter night, which might disappoint those expecting some sort of Becht and Weill-esque musical satire. The quality of the songs does vary, and one performer rather misguidedly attempts some comedy between songs. But in general the good humour and charm of the performers carry them through an enjoyable evening, as do their uniformly wonderful voices and the fluid, elegant piano playing of arranger Linehan.

Imithe le Gealaigh

Bewley's Cafe Theatre

Catherine Foley

A young woman's struggle with the voices she hears in her head is the subject of this powerful play Imithe le Gealaigh by Maria Ní Mhurchú. As the title, which means "gone frantic", suggests, it's about going mad, and the audience is taken on hectic journey that follows the dark and painful descent of Ruth, a 25-year-old played brilliantly by Michelle Ní Bhéimis, into despair.

It sounds like a terrible evening's entertainment and yet this one-woman play is riveting from beginning to end, helped by the sparkling performance of Ní Bhéimis. Also the fact that Ruth's world is a contemporary one gives the world she lives in a strong resonance: the effective use of that haunting Jeff Buckley anthem Hallelujah is right on the button for a modern audience. Ruth has imaginary conversations with Ray D'Arcy. In her world, she challenges Bono. There are moments of humour and the play's Irish is a pure delight in its freshness.

The only caveat with this production from Aisteoirí na Tíre, under the direction of Liam Ó Mathúna, is the lack of modulation or tempo in the pace. It is one fast, nail-biting ride until the end.

Ends tonight