A selection of events reviewed by Irish Timeswriters
Pearls of the Opera
Coach House, Dublin Castle
MICHAEL DERVAN
The heating seemed to be off in the chilly confines of the Coach House in Dublin Castle for Music Network's Pearls of the Opera programme. And physical coldness was far from being the only problem of the evening.
Music Network sold programmes containing printed notes and the sung texts to members of the audience, and then turned down the lights so that the texts were extremely difficult to read in the dark.
Perhaps this was intended to mask the fact that what was actually performed differed both in order and in content from what was printed. It could be argued that many of the arias included are well-known and that the performers offered introductions to some of them from the stage. But surely, as a national music development organisation, Music Network has to be aware of the needs of those listeners who are encountering particular pieces for the first time, or perhaps even attending their first classical concert. With all these barriers, only a true aficionado would have known exactly what all the singing was about.
The line-up of performers was international, with Irish soprano Mairéad Buicke and Korean baritone Seung-Wook Seong joined on piano by Lada Valeová from the Czech Republic.
The choice of arias ranged from Mozart up to the early 20th century, and the style of singing was strong rather than subtle. The Coach House does not seem to have an easy acoustic for operatic voices.
The two singers had no difficulty filling the small space with sound, but the venue seemed to harden their tone. Neither showed the precision of articulation, rhythm or intonation called for in the generous selection of Mozart arias, and both were altogether more at home in more romantic repertoire.
Seong was at his best in the warm depths of Avant de quitter ces lieuxfrom Gounod's Faust, while Buicke's heart-on-sleeve ardency shone most persuasively in Song to the Moonfrom Dvorák's Rusalkaand in Io son l'umile ancellafrom Cilea's Adriana Lecouvreur.
But, actually, the greatest sense of dramatic contrast and the most consistently resourceful shaping of lyrical line was not to be found in the singing. The musical delight of the evening was the always responsive, imaginative and finely polished piano-playing of Valeová. It was just one of those evenings where nothing was as you might have expected it to be.
• Tour ends tomorrow
100 Minutes 2008
Project Cube, Dublin
PETER CRAWLEY
Although the mercilessly exact title of Painted Filly's annual commitment to bite-sized examples of new writing never quite squares with your wristwatch, the point of 100 Minutesis more about the times than the timing. Staging 10 plays of 10 minutes' duration each (somehow the evening rarely comes in at under two hours), the chief requirement of its various writers is that they construct "plays about now".
Gauging the tenor of the moment is a tall order for any playwright, and funnelling the zeitgeist into dramas of such short form can be harder still.
There is an art in constructing a 10-minute piece which is more than a sketch or a snapshot, and though the work on offer here is often diverting and intriguing - largely veering between absurdist riffs, snorting satires, strident allegories and glimpses of social realism - most can only offer teasing morsels of a writer's ability.
Like M Wesley Sherman's vituperative (but hardly fresh) satire on reality television, which owes as much to Networkas to Big Brother, both Ross Dungan's Checking Timeand Meadhbh Haicéid's Wunderkindchoose to riff on a single idea. In Dungan's play, meaningful human contact comes with the engagement of a chess game rather than the clipboard inquiries of a social worker; while Haicéid uses a mother's love of her toddler's kindergarten portrait as a cunning send-up of the art market, where untainted genius is exalted and exhausted in the blink of an eye.
With plays written independently of each other, then shared out between five directors, it is hard to find cohesion among the shifting styles, something that proves a challenge also to the company of 10 young actors. For an audience, the abrupt changes make it hard to adjust from Caitlin Mitchell's "follow-that-cab" dialogue, In Pursuit, to the American absurdum of Daniel Kelley's Practical Origami, or for that matter from Fin Keegan's amusing Celtic folklore update, Sing, Hybernia, to Shawn Sturnick's gunpoint proposal, Marry Me.
Those pieces are self-contained, however, while Billie Traynor's Stacey, a scene from a hospital emergency ward following an attempted teen suicide, and Phil Kingston's The Ghost Train, in which a damaged family reunites around its incapacitated patriarch, are both strong, naturalistic vignettes that feel sundered from a larger work.
Jesse Weaver's involving Hydrophobiais more complete within its confines, a tensely atmospheric work in which an American mother slumps against her front door, with a shotgun, as a rabid dog bays outside. The symbolism of a hardening, imploding America at war registers deftly and without force, while Faela Stafford's absorbing performance concludes the evening with a slow shudder of realisation: that time is running out.
• Runs until March 15
Gary Numan
Tripod, Dublin
SORCHA HAMILTON
Electronic pop supremo Gary Numan is all about the synthesizer. Its eerie, sci-fi sound rings out as he took to the stage under flashing red-and-white retro striplights. Numan was dressed all in black, strutting around in knee-high boots and accompanied by an electrifyingly sombre five-strong band.
Turning 50 this week, Numan has certainly earned his status as the godfather of electronic music. Born in west London, Numan drew on the styles of David Bowie and Ultravox, mixing industrial metal and synth pop with an androgynous, gothy image. With more than 20 albums to his name, everyone from Nine Inch Nails, Nirvana and the Sugababes have sampled or done covers of his work. Basement Jaxx used his catchy baseline riff in their hit, Where's Your Head At?.
On stage, however, Numan looks more adolescent than godfather. Sometimes he flung himself around, almost balletically, his arms flaying, hands spread above his head like a butterfly. Gyrating and pointing into the crowd, he swung the mike-stand around with a solemn but energetic effortlessness. His performance is made up of small but crucial contrasts: his dark black eyeliner and the colourful lights; the blissful, dreamy synth and the thick, booming bass.
Numan played work from his 1979 hit album, Replicas,which was influenced by the work of sci-fi author Philip K Dick. Featuring songs such as Praying to the Aliensand When the Machines Rock, the album is famous for its dark, futuristic lyrics. Ditching his guitar, Numan tinkled with the synthesizer for We Have a Technical,while the drums built into a clattering frenzy.
His big hit, Are "Friends" Electric?,was undeniably one of the high points of the evening, the crowd singing along to almost every line of this gloomily poppy electro anthem. Numan was on top form throughout, returning for a feverish encore with his hit, Cars,and a final blast of real fat synth.
