Irish Timeswriters review a selection of events.
MSG
JJ Smyth's, Dublin
Ray Comiskey
MSG - Rudresh Mahanthappa (alto), Chander Sardjoe (drums) and Ronan Guilfoyle (electric bass) - arrived here at the end of a tour and it showed. This is a trio whose compatibility and understanding was little short of astonishing, and in Mahanthappa it has someone already acclaimed as a major new voice.
Imagine a combination of the souk, the bazaar, the circus and the ashram, and add a mathematician's concern for precision, and the sensual detail of Indian dance. Overlay it all with something of Bird's headlong, virtuosic imagination and a touch of Ornette's open, permeable approach to structure, and the result suggests an approximation of Mahanthappa's - and the group's - particular chemistry.
In Sardjoe, who treats the drums as an orchestra of colour and rhythm ranging from almost demonic intensity to the greatest delicacy, it has another virtuoso. And Guilfoyle provides a combination of dialoguist, fulcrum and mutable solid ground while the trio weaves its magic.
Clearly energised by the context, he has seldom played better, while his tone has acquired new warmth, clarity and fullness.
As a group, it has the ability to read not only what one assumes are mutually recognised and agreed cues, but also to sense, without such signposts, when a change of direction is imminent and to do so with turn-on-a-dime facility.
It was epitomised on Installation, the closing performance of the first set. In a stunning mix of solo and group interaction, it morphed into several other unidentified pieces, playing with time, tempo, line and structure with unhesitating brilliance.
They continued to do so throughout, from the opening Blackjack - combined with The Shape of Things - to a closing, beautiful ballad, completely spontaneously created, which in turn became an old piece of Guilfoyle's called Tenski.
But the most striking characteristic of this group remains its impressive balance between head and heart, intellect and emotion, for which, one suspects, much thanks are due to Mahanthappa. While he may not be everyone's cup of tea, he is a unique and gifted player.
A debut CD for MSG is out next year, but the way to experience this trio at its best is live, rather than via any studio.
Interpol
RDS, Dublin
Brian Keane
For a band that were frequntly dismissed as Joy Division knock-offs when they emerged onto a scene rife with brooding male groups five years ago, Interpol have now spawned their own legion of imitators (yes, that includes Editors) and it's a testament to their dark indie anthems and filler-free albums that they have reached this juncture looking stronger than ever.
There has been ne'er a whisper of an image change, although for this show bassist Carlos Dengler replaced his black waistcoat with a cosier cardigan, and while the overall sound remains the same since their inception the hooks and melodies on this year's Our Love to Admire album are far more grand and inclusive.
Their unstoppable rise can be measured in direct relation to the venues they've played on each of their headlining shows in Dublin since 2003: The Village, the Olympia and now the RDS.
Greeted like returning heroes as they take to the stage, it's only five months since their Oxegen-conquering slot, and sporting unshakeable detached stares the four-piece, accompanied by a touring keyboardist, prefer to let their music do the talking.
From set opener Pioneer to the Falls through to customary show-closer PDA it is apparent that the band's rigorous touring schedule has made them an ultra-tight ensemble. Over 90 minutes they deliver faithful reproductions of their recorded material, although the challenges of The Lighthouse are met spectacularly and a rare airing of Untitled is an added bonus.
The rhythm section of Dengler and drummer Sam Fogarino provide the backbone to the songs, pushing the likes of Mammoth to blistering heights. Paul Banks, bringing frontman nonchalance to new levels, specialises in oblique, narrative-free lyrics so it's surreal to hear an entire audience sing along to Evil and The Heinrich Maneuver with such intense feeling.
What separates Interpol from their contemporaries is an ability to raise songs to a higher plane at will, the exultant chorus of Narc or Daniel Kessler's signature crystal-clear guitar lines in the mesmerising Not Even Jail being prime examples.
Judging by the reaction to this performance an even larger venue will be required next time they visit.
Rihanna
RDS Simmonscourt, Dublin
Peter Crawley
If the summer of 2007 had been an uninterrupted season of sunshine, and not the Old Testament deluge we remember, would Rihanna's inescapable hit Umbrella have held the No 1 spot for quite so many weeks? Or could it be that the 19-year-old Barbados singer is so persuasively good that even the elements follow her command? Rihanna certainly has everything we require from today's pop stars: the voice of a soul singer, the body of a goddess, the wardrobe of a leather fetishist, the moves of a pole-dancer and the personality of a rather charming robot. Her legs, incidentally, have been insured for $1 million (€680,000), which may explain the lingering attention they received from the RDS jumbo screens: less an act of dumbstruck gawping than actuarial scrutiny.
Not that her most loyal and ear-splittingly vocal fans shared the cameraman's interest. The tots and pre-teens who formed the core of the audience duly screamed their appreciation for every song, although one wonders how directly they related to the emotional heft of the material: the scorned-woman revenge fantasies (Breakin' Dishes, Good Girl Gone Bad), or a tortured ballad about cuckolding a lover (Unfaithful).
Then again, you could say the same thing about Rihanna, who is generally only as good as the material her songwriters provide. But, although her brief patter with the audience was straight from the ingratiation handbook - "This is my favourite city in the whole world" etc - Rihanna at least gave the impression that she knew what she was singing about.
There was genuine eye-popping drama to Rehab, her mournful ballad of lost love, and a thrilling edge to Breakin' Dishes, her significantly less mournful take on the same subject. She also invested the Tainted Love-sampling SOS and the revving Shut Up and Drive with an element of danger, partly accentuated by her swishing use of a cat-o'-nine-tails.
It was the more consoling Umbrella that people wanted to hear, of course, and Rihanna played her trump card last. Ten weeks of chart ubiquity can tarnish any song, but the tune still pours with soft laments and stirring singing.
Umbrellas popped open throughout the RDS, which might have seemed like overkill in a roofed venue. But with Rihanna's proven ability with a rain dance, you can never be too careful.
