TN2 Issue 10

Notes from underground

Michael Longley Vitalic Art and the state The Von Bondies The Japanese Popstars

Calendar of fun

tn2’s pick of the most exciting things to do in Dublin this coming fortnight

Tuesday

Wednesday

Thursday

Friday

Saturday

Sunday

Monday

21 Drone maestros Earth take to the stage on Wexford Street this evening.

Should prove punishing.

Whelans, 8 pm, €16

22 Dennis Kelly’s Love or Money started at the Project yesterday and runs until 9 May. The Project Arts Theatre, 8 pm, €16 concession

23 I Have Turtle DJs and Mark Lam are in charge of the choons at this week’s LeCirque (lecirquedublin. blogspot.com).

Spy, 11 pm, €5

24 Up-and-comers Heathers and Angel Pier play an IMRO Music Showcas – for a fiver you can’t go wrong.

Andrew’s Lane Theatre, 8 pm, €5

25 Squarepusher is in town tonight to provide glitchy electronica for all.

The Button Factory, 8 pm, €25

26 Today’s the last day of the Fear and Desire: The Cinema of Stanley Kubrick season at the IFI, so go get some Dr. Strangelove into ye.

Irish Film Institute

27 Rumour has it that Saxon are the original inspiration for Spinal Tap. Don’t expect: irony.

Do expect: extreme riffage.

The Academy, 7 pm, €30

28 Quote (www.quotemusic.net) play the Ruby Sessions tonight, along with The Guggenheim Grotto, The Brilliant Things and Stace Gill.

Doyles, 9 pm

29 Jeffrey Lewis takes his new backing band The Junkyard out for a spin tonight. If you haven’t seen him live before, you are missing out sorely, oh yes.

Crawdaddy, 8 pm, €14

30 If you’ve been bitten by the One City One Book buzz, then today’s your last chance to check out the John Barry Dracula Exhibition.

Pearse Street Library

1 Not to be confused with the newer, younger version, songwriting stalwart Pony Club plays Whelans tonight (and Emm Gryner’s upstairs).

Whelans, 7.30 pm, €12

2 Síbín Festival 09 kicks off the summer with 50 bands, incl. The Mighty Stef, the Hot Sprockets, Bats and Ugly Megan playing over 6 stages.

Man O War, Balbriggan, All day, €47.50

3 And So I Watch You From Afar are down from Belfast tonight. Any band with song titles like “Set Guitars to Kill” have got to be worth a listen.

Upstairs at Whelans, 8 pm

4 Welsh funnyman Ross Noble takes his “Things” tour to Dublin this evening.

Olympia Theatre, 7.30, €31.50

xkcd.com

Contents Aisling Deng talks to poet Michael Longley

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Big in Japan

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A few words with Vitalic

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Fergus Carson-Williams meets The Ambience Affair

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Bob Dylan and the oral tradition

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The Von Bondies’ Jason Stollsteimer on his band’s record label woes

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Dark Room Notes discuss their latest record

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Acclaimed Irish film-maker John T. Davis talks to Michael Armstrong

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A brief history of French fashion

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Tightening your belt?

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Current exhibitions at IMMA

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Art vs. the state

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Fan fiction

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Chick-lit or bin-it?

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October at The Olympia

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The Shawshank Redemption on stage

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Summer treats

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Issue

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Ah, memories… Here we are, dear readers, the final issue of tn2 for the year. And what an emotional rollercoaster of a year it has been. There have been ecstatic ups (like that time we got pizza and I found a euro under the table – yus!), there have been depressing downs (like that time I accidentally locked my jacket in the office and it was REALLY cold outside – brrr!) but, most of all, there have been countless hours in front of computer screens, silently laying out pages and cursing contributor’s use of single-apostrophe quotation marks. Those fools.

For the issue that was in it, we decided to put in an Herculean effort and produce a bumper tn2 with a whopping four extra pages.

That’s four extra pages of insightful cultural commentary, four extra pages of cut-throat, no holds barred interviewing, four extra pages of thought-provoking review, four extra pages of articles that we told people we’d publish but never quite got around to it and felt a bit bad. Get it into ye.

So, what exactly does lie within these crisp, unblemished pages, then? Well, for one, Aisling Deng headed over to visit Michael Longley in his on-campus residence last term and had a chat with the venerable poet about his life and work. Hilariously enough, Aisling lost my dictaphone in the process but then found it again, which was nice, because otherwise I would have messed her face up.

Michael Armstrong had a word with Irish director John T. Davis about his latest documentary Tailwind. In other Michael-related news, the young man won himself a Student Media Award a few weeks ago; brilliant news altogether because I don’t even give a shit that I wasn’t nominated for any of the writing categories – could not give a bollocks, oh no – congrats Michael!

Sticking with interviews, Fergus Carson-Williams not only followed The Japanese Popstars to Belfast to see them play and discuss their current popular ascent, but he also managed to convince them to do some promotional Trinity News posing. This man will go far.

Sticking with music, Catriona Gray talked to Jason Stollsteimer of The Von Bondies who, as it transpires, lives in Dublin for three months of the year. Did not know that. Although, his favourite pub is apparently Anseo, which suggests that he may be lying about living in the city. Poor Jason, though, the first thing that appears when you Google his name is an image of his messed-up face after Jack White brought the pain a few years back. Can we not move on from this?

That said, the bruises and puffy flesh is strangely mesmerising.

Emily Lawn got all historical with a look at French fashion through the centuries and Patrice Murphy insisted on dropping the r-bomb again and again in advising us on how to make the best of a tight budget when buying clothes in times of economic unpleasantness. It’s not happening, this recession business, OK? La la la...

In the Books section, we ran an article on fan fiction, and I would just like to state that we did not in fact steal the idea from the Record, who recently published a similar article. There is obviously some kind of mole in the organisation and let me say this to you, mole, you’d better watch your fucking back you moley little fucking shit.

In conclusion, then, thanks for reading tn2 this year, I hope it’s been as enjoyable to read as it has been to put together. Now, I’m going to go off and have a bit of a cry.

Yours ultimately,

Hugh Reviews

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25

21 April – 4 May, 2009

Editor tn2@trinitynews.ie

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The jovial hullabaloo Poet Michael Longley tells Aisling Deng about “troubles trash,” the importance of Classics, and smoking and drinking in Dublin

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ell one thing’s for sure love, you’ve got the wrong place” shrugs an apathetic passerby. Slightly bemused, he vaguely swings his arm, pointing backwards, sending me absent-mindedly to follow his directions blindly. Having already done a ring of circles around campus, I feel like an utter imbecile. As I count the precise minutes on my watch, checking my phone to reassure myself that I have at least five minutes left, I feverishly set off again, finetooth-combing every sign, back bent and eyes squinting. Profusely perspirating, pits don’t generally bode well, they’re the ultimate portent of things gone wrong; and true enough it’s already time and I’m not there.

Running a scrawl along the cobblestones, my brow lightens upwards. Thank you God, or rather, friendly fate. There, coolly leaning on the wall of the Rubrics is Michael Longely: Whitbread and T. S. Eliot prizewinner, now The Ireland Professor of Poetry. He looks at me with polite curiosity as I rush forward, stumbling in my awkward state. I now know what Harry felt like encountering Dumbledore for the first time. Gripped by his piercing blue eyes, they’re twinkling behind his glasses. I’m reminded of the phrase “Irish eyes are always smiling” and can’t help but smile to myself, how apt! Trying to recollect my wits (and marbles), I’m unsure of the date of the Rubrics (is it eighteenth century or…?) and instead of saying something interesting I splutter out tautological, unintelligible babble and apologise again.

We start talking about a desultory patchwork quilt of things; top on the list is where do we go for tea? Tea. “Now this is a subject you’re well versed in and can tackle easily, my friend,” I say to my brain, but he doesn’t seem to want to engage with me. Arts Block?

Too monotonous. Sheebeen Chic? Too far away. Bewley’s? Too busy. Café Sol? Too cold. Finally, my brain yawns a perky suggestion: Reader’s Café? Longley assents heartily, having never been there and up for trying something new, I heartily assure him it’s a place worth spending an hour or afternoon in. Pat on the back for you, Mr. Brain; though it’s the last I’ll hear from him for a very long while.

As we set off, I bounce off in unequal steps, shoe-gazing in the shame of my dirty converse and creased skirt, I notice how measured his are and slow down, calmingly to his pace. As we cross the busy Nassau Street, there is a respectful space between us. As I pick my way jaggedly, he stands his

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ground like a lissome boxer amongst the crowd, reminding me of what Paul Muldoon, the poet said of Longley: “Michael is a figure who represents the future of Northern Ireland. A future in which we try to make sense of each other and come to terms with each other and each other’s places. There is an imaginative domain in which we can all move forward and Michael is emblematic of that.” And without a shadow of a doubt, it’s hard for passers-by to be apathetic to his presence.

Making our way up the mauve carpeted steps, I’m feeling more comfortable, my steps bounce again but less sketchy. It’s hard to grapple with Longley’s legacy. It speaks measures for itself; his oeuvre is as broad as the poet’s breast, gravelly grounded by gravity as are his perfectly in-tempo strides; it also trips off the tongue with the most delicate, refreshing dolce touch when

chuckle. “Ah fate! It’s not meant to be,” he smiles genially, turning the leaves of his diary to pencil in alternate plans.

Through a hurly burly rash of mishaps, with the best intentions and worst timing, I feel like the prodigal son returning to his father as I arrive, days later, at the Rubrics.

Standing outside his door again in dismal drizzling weather, this is my second chance.

Of these he says: “There’s a poem in Gorse Fires about the brief mark an otter’s tail makes in wet sand. Those are the moments that move me. Poems give them a second chance.”

Smiling, he warmly takes a step back, letting me in with affable volubility. His air hangs in the balance with lofty ease. There’s a great sense of the loose hangings of freedom which nature affords, in his movements which are discerned in his distilled poetry.

Describing his style he says: “sometimes the

I remember when we were in our twenties, the poets of our generation used to sit in pubs in Belfast and Dublin, and we used to be heavy smokers and we’d be drinking far too much. And I remember saying when I was about twenty-seven, if any of us reach forty it’d be a miracle and God here we all are pushing seventy read. Never mind the tea and cakes; listening to this giant is simply a treat. Carefully pondering the array of pastries before us, he tells me he can’t have anything too sweet due to his diabetes. Later on when we talk about T.S. Eliot, I cite “A Dedication for my Wife” as my favourite love poem and he chuckles at my “sentimental and wet” selection and advises me to revisit it.

As I lift and drop a littered tray of delicacies around, Longley swiftly decides which one he fancies. He picks it up and plops in on a plate with time to spare to patiently wait for me. Armed with food and drink, we amble on through the interview with interludes of crumbs and sips when all of a sudde a string of beeps sound from the recorder.

My brows shade. Knitting them I try to compose myself. Sensing stormy weather, Longley stops and asks if everything’s OK. I explain, wincing in expectation of his reply but his lake still voice merely ripples with a

brevity is a kind of tact, the only way I have of dealing with momentous subject matter without being offensive or impertinent – a touch and no more.” Markedly he says of epic poems: “I’m not against ambition and reach, but if you can say it in four lines, why waste your time saying it in more? Challenge the world by all means, but it’s bad for your poetry to take steroids.”

Longley has always resisted being interpreted in any linear tradition. As Fran Brearton of Queen’s University comments: “He is obviously involved in an Irish tradition but he also builds on an English tradition, in fact he is the tradition of dealing with tensions between traditions.” Whereas his contemporaries such as Heaney and Mahon were more easily identifiable as a rural Irish Catholic and an urban Belfast poet respectively, Longley didn’t fit in a set mould, which made it harder for him to find a niche. He came into his own though through “Homer and

also very private things; looking at flora and fauna in the west of Ireland, remembering his father, which began to take on resonance about contemporary Northern Ireland”.

At a recent lecture which Longley gave on Classics in Trinity College, Professor Terence Brown introduced him as someone who wears his morals with marvelous style.

He believes in letting the subconscious look after things instead of casting back to old works and revising them ‘til “they buckle and dent what was originally forged at red-hot heat.” Looking at his powerfully restrained works you can see the startling honestly and intransigence, which is teamed up with a tactful elegance in execution. The morals by which he writes and lives are similarly applied. “You live your life and you write your poems. If you do one dishonestly, the other will suffer.” Speaking of this bond, he reflects upon his oeuvre in the same way.

His poems are far from being recondite, but more spiritual. “I’m not the kind of poet who arranges treasure-hunts to please the academics and keep them busy. Poetry should be surprising in deeper ways.” He hopes that at the end, his work will resemble four long poems; a love poem, war/death poem, nature poem and a poem on the art of poetry, “like a plant, I want the strands both to entwine with each other, but every now and again to emerge as separate.”

Longley aptly defines the difference between poetry and prose in one go: “Sir, if prose is a river, poetry is a fountain.” He remembers it with much fondness. “I came up with that when I was about your age whilst attending a lecture on Aristotle’s Poetics.

And really the fountain is both free-flowing and spontaneous yet shapely and that’s the best way I can describe poetry.”

He declared that Synge and Yeats were the “builders” of his soul. As both writers are, like Longley, well-known, canorous lyric writers, I wonder what core aspects of their work have influenced him as a poet and if music has a bearing upon his work? “Yeats is a central influence on my writing. He’s a great metrical artist and stanzaic artist that could breathe independent spirit as well. I think of myself as a lyrical poet, I believe in the singing line. The poetry that I love must have an element of melody in it. I listen to music everyday; listening to music and writing poetry are linked in some way which I don’t understand.”

For all artists, there’s an element of paying tribute to predecessors, Longley has himself been influenced structurally by 21 April – 4 May, 2009

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the likes of George Herbert. I ask him what the importance of this “apprenticeship” is.

“What I got from Herbert is structure and stanzaic shape, and if you look at his poems they’re very visually attractive on the page.

I think apprenticeship is very important, you’ve got to learn how to do things, and well I’m still an apprentice. I haven’t made my mind up about form or expression, I’m still learning I hope and I think that one of the ways to continue as a writer of lyrics is to keep ones ears open to the great masters of the past and young writers of today.”

As issues in the North slowly come to a resolute handshake and problems dissipate with time this will have an impact upon the younger generation of poets, who now face a new society in which they live and are effected by. “There was a danger at the height of the Troubles of poets becoming reporters. Poets are not reporters. There was some bad poetry written in direct response to the Troubles that my friends and I called ‘Troubles trash.’ The poet, the true artist, doesn’t hitch a ride on yesterday or today’s headlines. John Hume, the politician, referred to the politics of the latest atrocity, which is wrong. Likewise, a poem of the latest atrocity would be an abomination. So the poets of my generation responded to the Troubles in an oblique way; avoiding the impertinence of intruding on fellow citizens. Now that we have reached some kind of peace, I think that you’ll find the poets younger than I will be mentioning what we call the Troubles less frequently but I think that the tensions under the surface that produced these tensions are still there.”

It’s similar to the situation in China with Communism being masked by the incipient propaganda of the Olympics and the W.T.O. Many of the seismic decisions and events in the world happen behind close doors. “Nevertheless I think that if art or poetry doesn’t deal with these dark subjects, it’s lost, but of course poetry’s about everything; it’s about falling in love, enjoying the spring, the seasons, the wonders of the universe but it’s also about war and struggle and politics.

There’s a marvelous thing that my friend Derek Mahon said of poetry: ‘A good poem should be a paradigm of good politics.’”

I mention the echoing struggles in developing countries, such as Nigeria, where there lies a divide similar to those seen in Northern Ireland in the past and how it spawned a generation of inspirational writers such as Chinua Achebe and Chimamanda Ngozie Adichie. “There’s a marvelous thing that I’ve admired for years, that the English critic Cyril Connolly said, that art is like a small gland in the body like the pituitary gland at the base of the skull. It seems small and unimportant but when it’s removed, the body dies and those regimes which have tried to remove it, to control the arts like Hitler’s Germany and Stalin’s Russia, eventually they die. So we need art and freedom in which the artist can express himself or herself.”

Having studied Classics in Trinity as an undergraduate, its multifarious influence on his poetry cannot be compartmentalized. Its ghost not only touches upon his subjects but also his form and style. When tn2

21 April – 4 May, 2009

Queens College, Belfast discontinued their Latin and Greek courses he ardently protested against such paucity to keep them alive. Both Queens and Trinity, like all other colleges, have many incongruous problems they must deal with which come from the development and changing of our times.

Longley agrees: “Well I think culturally we are 75% Greek or Roman if you think of medicine, science, architecture, drama, poetry. It’s the basis of our culture, you can’t remove the foundations, you have to respect them or if we do away with Latin and Greek then the building will eventually topple, it’ll cave in. But then I think the study of Latin and Greek, especially Latin, gives one an insight of structure of language and I feel that people are losing the knack of writing good, vital English.

“In losing touch with the classics, contemporary writing has lost its backbone.

So I feel that it’s a great loss. Even with the postgraduate students that I see. I read

their work and feel that a lot of my advice is remedial, I’m telling them things that I knew about in school, because I was taught these things through Latin and languages and so forth. What we’re losing is the general feeling for the structure of language and language is what it’s all about.”

The formal restraint of the stanza or, say, something like Dryden’s couplets helps to control self-indulgence. So much contemporary translation is self-indulged and reads like cut-up prose. For Longley, the form, the stanzaic shape, is an endorsement, proof that he is engaged with the Latin and Greek at an original level, that his versions are explorations. “Yeats said that he wrote in form because if he didn’t he wouldn’t know when to stop and Robert Frost said that writing free verse is like playing tennis without a net, i.e. rather boring. I’m not totally against free verse. D.H. Lawrence, for instance a poet that I revere and Walt Whitman both wrote a kind of free verse, but you have to

be extra specially good to write good free verse.” I ask if he thinks T.S. Eliot got away with it. Having been such a strenuously strict critic, I think he’d probably have had an aneurysm critiquing his own work. “Well what T.S. Eliot had was an innate sense of the line, he had a marvelous air; one of the best airs ever.”

Heralding back to Homer, a major influence on Longley’s work, the epic tradition he wrote in and James Joyce’s Ulysses, which has also been a notable influence, I’m curious about what kind of epic journeys jump at him casting his mind back to his youth – in what way did they impact on him? “I don’t think I’ve ever been on an epic journey. Just I remember when we were in our twenties, the poets of our generation, we used to sit in pubs in Belfast and Dublin, and we used to be heavy smokers and we’d be drinking far too much. And I remember saying when I was about twenty-seven, if any of us reach forty it’d be a miracle and, God, here we all are, pushing seventy. In my case, I stopped drinking and smoking. But just finding one’s way through the decades is an epic journey for everybody really; one falls in love, has children, one is bereaved, one tries to express this. I think of a poet as somebody for whom no experience is complete until he/she has written about it. So the biggest adventure of all is the inner adventure, the imaginative journey.

“When you’re writing a poem you’re going to places in your mind, where you haven’t been or visited before, it’s unknown territory, that’s the excitement. Yes, there’s the great journey from silence to expression, to all of a sudden you’re in your sixties or seventies when you bring out a book called Collected Poems and you’re not too sure how you got there. It’s all quite mysterious and enormously exciting but I can’t think of anything more exciting than writing a poem.

When I spoke to him, Longley had returned to his Alma Mater as Professor of Poetry for Ireland and delved into what the role involves and what he hoped to achieve during his term.

“Well the main thing I do as the Ireland Professor of Poetry is to deliver a lecture. I gave a lecture at Queens last year called “A Jovial Hullabaloo” which was about poetry and my life, which I gave again in UCD. I give two or three readings at the universities and I visit a few schools, I give readings around the countryside and I also meet students here. I believe that poetry is a normal human activity and I hope the way I go about things in the universities enforces this notion and that poetry is there for everyone to enjoy reading, it’s there as a challenge for those that think they might write it. So in a sense my role is in my title, I profess poetry don’t I?” While we’re on the topic of college life I ask him if he has any golden nuggets of wisdom for students.

“All I can say is do not to despair, keep writing, be true to yourself, ignore fashion and read a lot. Far more people write poetry than read it. Inhale poetry. Let it go to your head.” I don’t think anyone could have acumenly said it with as much clear-cut, glassringing resonance as Longley.

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Rising sons

Photo: Fergus Carson-Williams

Fergus Carson-Williams intrepidly tracked down The Japanese Popstars and talked to the Derry boys about their new found success.

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ll it took was a drunken encounter at a well known club in Dublin – a signed mandarin orange later and I had managed to secure an interview with The Japanese Popstars. Declan McLaughlin, Gary Curran and Gareth Donoghue, who make up the electro trio, agreed to meet me in Belfast for what was to be my first ever journalistic venture. With a slot at the Trinity Ball secured, two wins at the 2009 Irish Music Awards and several major music festivals under their belts, the band are clearly destined for greater things than making up the numbers in the international electronica community. The Popstars’ impressive list of accomplishments made the build up to the encounter somewhat daunting. Armed with and brand new dictaphone and a friend for security I waited in the lobby of a hotel to meet the hottest property in Irish dance music.

After reassurances that they would go easy on me, Declan and Gary from the band told me about the creation of the Derrybased Popstars. Drunk in a field at Oxegen about two years ago, the lads decided that they could blag their way into the festival the next year for free by creating a live act.

After producing “Rodney Trotter,” Declan and Gary were offered a full live show, but with only one song they were in hot water.

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Gary enlisted the help of Gareth, an acquaintance he had only met twice before, who was able to produce music in a live environment, and after a lot of hard work, the Popstars were born and ready to perform.

The name stemmed from Declan’s fascination with Japan. “I had always wanted to go there. I was passing a bar and the name just came to me, I called Gary on the spot and he immediately started laughing”. Gary burst in, “it was only because I was ginger, Irish and the furthest thing away from Japanese that I agreed! Now most people think we’re going to be Japanese when they meet us.”

Initially, the not-so-Japanese trio mobilised a large fan base by frequently gigging in Ireland and using online blogging sites, such as MySpace, to showcase their latest music productions. Evidence of the group’s success is clear from the number of uploaded videos available on the internet of the Popstars’ performances.

Declan’s captivation with Japan reached a new level in 2008 when the Popstars were signed to Beatink Japan (home of Aphex Twin, Diplo and Underworld) and offered a Japanese tour date with Justice and Basement Jaxx. When I asked Declan what it was like to tour with Justice he seemed more enthusiastic about Japan, which he claimed was “the best place in the world”, rather

than Justice, famous for their rock and roll approach to electronic music, who ironically “just sat about sleeping all day or else getting their hair done by their personal stylists.” Despite this, Declan and Gary were both star-struck whilst on a train with Basement Jaxx, Vitalic and Crookers. Gary laughed, “I kept them all back from getting home on the second night because I was late for the bus. We were always the last ones home. ‘Typical Irish,’ they’d say.” Declan revealed that the Popstars are planning another tour of Japan, in conjunction with the release of their second album Panic Stations in July, but left me in suspense as to with whom they would be touring.

For numerous fans of The Japanese Popstars, including myself, the most appealing aspect of the band is their hands-in-the-air vibe and raw energy whilst performing live; “we get very sweaty” Declan confirmed.

The Popstars do not use a conventional DJ set-up onstage. Instead, the group use synth keyboards, drum machines and laptops to produce music live in a way more akin to a typical instrumental band. “We‘ve got spoons, a triangle and a tambourine,” as Declan put it. Gary runs music production programs onstage continually adding to the tracks: “we‘re constantly chopping and changing our act according to the crowd, which makes each performance unique.”

However, when I put it to the lads that their live sets had been compared to arena dance acts like Chemical Brothers, Prodigy and Orbital they were more than humble. It was engaging to hear how Declan and Gary could be so modest when the band have achieved

so much in such a short space of time. “It makes us scared, we grew up with these people who have influenced us but at the same time it’s unnerving to be put in that league of producers,” said Declan.

Despite the modesty, the Popstars have been asked to do several collaborations which seem to highlight the high degree of their success and reputation. I asked Declan about their collaboration with Groove Armada on the track “Get Down.” “It started off that a guy from the Trinity Rooms got chatting to Groove Armada about our work.

The next thing we got a call from them asking if we could do a remix, we all said ‘of course!’

They liked it that much that they decided to give us a collaboration instead, which was brilliant.” Perhaps it was this collaboration which caught the attention of Beyonce’s producers who recently asked the Popstars to do a remix of her new singles “If I Was a Boy” and “Single Ladies.” “We don‘t get a choice on what we remix. What happened was ‘If I Was a Boy’ came out through our label. We sent across a chilled out version and a dance version and she liked both of them, so they asked us to do ‘Single Ladies’ as well.” The Popstars are currently working on more collaborations, but because of an exclusive contract with EMI they couldn’t tell me who they are working with.

Far from being overwhelming, spending time with two of my musical heroes reaffirmed my approbation for them. As the Japstars posed for pictures I was excited about seeing them perform alongside Digitalism later knowing I had discovered more about the Japanese hype. Roll on the Trinity Ball.

21 April – 4 May, 2009

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Vital signs Pascal Arbez, aka Vitalic, answered a few of Michael Shanley’s questions ahead of his much-anticipated Trinity Ball appearance What have you been up to of late?

I’ve finished my second LP, so I’m working on the artwork and the live show for that.

Also, I’m touring a bit, playing a selection of music in clubs or small venues.

It’s been a while since we’ve seen any new material from you under the Vitalic moniker – can we expect any soon?

Yes, the release date is 24 August. The record is finished but there was a kind of traffic jam for releases on Pias [Vitalic’s record label] before the summer.

How do you approach the song-writing process?

There is no recipe. It mostly depends on the kind of music I want to make. I’m always intersted in developing new techniques in addition to the skills I already have.

You’ve adopted a few different pseud-

onyms over the years (Dima, Hustler Pornstar) – is this in order to allow yourself to approach work in a new way?

Yes, most people don’t like too much changes from a musician but at the same time they don’t want to hear the same thing again.

Also expectations mean disappointment.

When I feel uncomfortable after a while with a pseudonym, I change it.

The switch to your current name certainly seemed to bring with it a huge amount of success. What does it mean to be ‘Vitalic’ now?

I think it means being lazy for long periods, then working a lot on new material. It means having loads of free time then having to work on the live show at 6 am before leaving to go to the airport.

You’re well-known for the amusingly fake background story [being a Ukraini-

an trubcka player and occasional gigolo from a family of sea otter fur traders] you used to tell. Do you think that some DJs take themselves too seriously?

The DJs I knew at that time knew that was a joke. But they would tell the story too. I think it was all about about getting people to think “this can be possible / this is too much to be real,” making them doubt their judgement. It was fun for about 6 months and then it became a bit boring.

A lot of very exciting things have happened in electronic music in France over the last few years. As a native, how would you evaluate its current place in European dance music?

I wouldn’t necessarily say that France is becoming the centre of European dance music. You still have minimal, Spanish and English progressive stuff, Italian dub step etc. Also, apart from Justice, there hasn’t

been a huge amount of commercial success as there was with French Touch 1.0 (Daft Punk, Cassius and others). As well as that, I have to say that French Touch 2.0 is starting to become as repetitive as it was in the 90s.

Things have changed in the right direction since the cheesy 80s French stuff, though.

There was a huge amount of disappointment last year, when you couldn’t play the Trinity Ball. Why did you have to pull out in the end?

I had an accident and I couldn’t walk properly for some time. I never cancel gigs unless I have a technical problem or a serious health problem.

What can people expect from your set this year at the Trinity Ball?

People can expect to have a broad view of the music I like, to dance, and to hear some new material in the set.

Photo: Neil Dorgan

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21 April – 4 May, 2009

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Affair deal Fergus Carson-Williams met with new twopiece band The Ambience Affair to discuss their self-released EP and the difficulties with signing a lucrative record deal.

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ormed in the summer of 2008, The Ambience Affair have wasted no time waiting for a record deal to come their way.

Instead, the Meath band decided to go it alone, with a little help from their friends, and release their debut EP, Fragile Things, within months of playing together. Drummer Marc Gallagher met guitarist/singer Jamie Clarke last year whilst working in a Dublin music store and within a week the concept of a band was realised. Jamie had been playing solo for two years prior to meeting Marc and was looking for a new sound. “I knew I wanted to play with a drummer to refine my sound and add some

we wouldn’t be doing it, but I have been told I sing like a male Sinead O’Connor… maybe it was a sarcastic remark.” Marc laughed, “Some guy once compared us to a cheesy mid-80s Australian rock band called Midnight Oil.” One thing definite about the band’s music is that it builds with a slow burning rhythmic intensity spurred by guitar loops and high speed drumming, reminiscent of established indie acts like Final Fantasy and Bright Eyes.

The Irish music industry can be a forbidding and discerning domain, and with so many new Irish bands, The Ambience Affair are yet be signed to a record label. That’s not to say that they haven’t been successful.

Their sheer ambition and desire to improve their music has been shared amongst many friends and associates who have contributed to the release of their EP, album art and to making a professionally cut music video. “In our naivety we didn‘t care to think how much stuff is involved in putting a record out without the financial and physical backing of a record label. We’re so grateful to the people who have contributed to our growth,” Jamie said. However, the band feel that their twopiece composition has worked against them at times. “There‘s a lot of negativity out there in the industry. Big record labels generally look for a three or four piece band who play more agreeable indie rock music, but we want to stay true to our style and wait for the right people to find us.” Marc continued, “in many ways being in a

I’d like to think we’re original, otherwise we wouldn’t be doing it, but I have been told I sing like a male Sinead O’Connor more creative input, so I invited Marc to one of my gigs after work and afterwards we decided to give the whole thing a go”. A clear friendship had been established between the two who joked about celebrating the bands one year anniversary in June and were able to list off each others musical influences, ranging from Bob Dylan and Tom Waits to Death Cab for Cutie.

When questioned, the band did not feel affiliated to a particular style of music, as Jamie put it: “Fleet Foxes are a good example; you can hear their influences but you can’t pin them down to any particular genre of music. We find it hard to be objective when people ask us that question. I’d like to think we’re original, otherwise

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two-piece band has worked really well for us. If I get ahead of myself and feel like we‘re doing great, Jamie is always there to keep me grounded and to tell me to wise up, and I do the same for him.”

As for the future, things seem decidedly bright for The Ambience Affair. Marc and Jamie’s enthusiasm for their music has seen the band develop a sharp and refined sound without help from a record producer. “You see bands out there making a living out of what they love.

I‘d like to be able to use music to pay for rent and food. I guess that’s my main goal. It’s not very optimistic but I want to be able to have enough success so that I can continue making music because it’s what I love,” said Jamie. I asked Marc what he hoped to achieve from the band. “There are so many Irish bands out there that seem to go nowhere, but every now and then people get excited about one, so I hope we can be a part of that one day. I think it would be great to be successful in other countries as well.”

Jamie added, “maybe I’d like to have a butler one day too.” It seemed fitting to ask Marc and Jamie if they had any advice for any aspiring student bands in Trinity and they seemed to firmly advocate the DIY approach. “Do it yourself”, Marc said, “Don‘t wait around for someone to come to you. Show people what you’re about and that you’re committed”.

Jamie continued, “do whatever it takes, but obviously don’t take out a fucking stupid forty grand loan or anything. If your genuine then people will respond to it and help you put your music out there. But remember, we‘re still aspiring ourselves.”

21 April – 4 May, 2009

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Bob Dylan and the emergence of the oral tradition into postmodernity Tom Helm on how Bob Dylan revolutionised the folk song

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olk is a bunch of fat people. I have to think of all this as traditional music … Everybody knows I’m not a folk singer’ – Bob Dylan The oral tradition has not diminished with its coming of age into postmodernity.

Bob Dylan is just one of many who have utilized a whole range of modern telecommunications: tapes, gramophone records, radio and television. The record did for the song what the printing press did for the novel. No longer the wondering minstrel, it is the industrialized idol that speaks out to this generation of song lovers. Therefore, the traditional association between folk art and a communal, anonymous activity must be re-evaluated.

A common perception of Dylan’s tradition inhabits a romantic consciousness of what constitutes oral culture. According to romantic thought, the oral tradition is true literature because it grew up of itself without conscious deliberation or individual volition. This idea is clarified by the German romantic philosopher Schlegel, who, in opposing mechanical form – external and accidental – supports innate organic form which “unfolds itself from within.” Thus in the fine arts, just as the province of nature – the supreme artist – all genuine forms are organic. This notion has filtered right through into the twentieth century. Hence the controversy when Dylan turned electric – the famous cry of “Judas” by a disgruntled fan during a concert he gave in Manchester – as he appeared to forsake traditional, organic forms in favour of industry and mechanism.

Furthermore, Dylan’s non-subscription to poetic theory can be paradoxically associated with Romantic theory on the role of spontaneity. ‘There’s no logical way you can arrive at lyrics like that,” he says during the famous Playboy interview. “I don’t know how it was done… it just came through me.”

In typical Dylan fashion, he does not want to be pinned down to one particular creative role. Instead, he endorses spontaneity in the creative process, resonating with Wordsworth’s famous dictum that poetry is “the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings.” Poetry, for Dylan, is thus natural and instinctive.

However, there are of course significant differences between Dylan and the Wordsworth and Coleridge collective. It is fair to say that when Wordsworth and Coleridge claimed they were writing in traditional forms (along with their various other poetitn2

21 April – 4 May, 2009

Photo: Dane Mac

cal experiments) in order to test the masses for poetic pleasure, they were, in fact, attempting to render into form a set of ideals of which they thought poetry should embody. Dylan, however, claims he is not a folk singer, then goes ahead and writes in ballad forms anyway and invigorates the masses all the more for it. The difference between the two approaches is that the former produces poetry that the poets want the masses to want, and the latter provides them with songs they actually listen to.

Dylan enacts his spontaneity through careful poetic technique, as parallelism is a regular feature of his poetry. Parallelism, on a simple level, consists of a type of repetition (usually a binary pattern) in which one element is changed, the other – usually the syntactical frame itself – remaining constant. In Dylan’s ballad “A Hard Rain’s Going to Fall,” a single syntactical frame is kept almost the whole way through each stanza, as he says, “I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it, I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it, I saw…” Here the repetition of “I saw” at the beginning of each line generates a framework of rhythm in which Dylan can set in motion his vibrant

images of nuclear devastation. Parallelism, is, therefore, in this context, a vehicle in which the unconscious can deliver its message without precipitating what Oscar Wilde would call “bad poetry” springing from “genuine feeling.”

Not that Dylan does, in any way, write bad poetry, but that he is, even if he denies it, writing in oral formula that has been practised for centuries in cultures the world over. Here, for example is an old Jaffna riddle from Tamil in Sri Lanka: nal eluttil vitukatai onr dkum anta nil eluttil murpati tavir enz am an nal eluttil pirpdti caritam ikum navil munrum ontum urin ceyyul im an nal eluttil munru irantu vitame-y akum Without even knowing what this riddle means we can appreciate the syntactical similarities to Dylan’s songs. The point is to illustrate the universality of the parallelism within the oral tradition. If, as Ezra Pound said, “rhythm has meaning,” the meaning of Dylan’s rhythm is his association with the oral tradition.

But sadly we’re living in a world postsixties. Gone are the days when happy LSD chewing retro-bates would filter through

society like fragments of one mass, colourful plague. Gone are even, as it would seem, the individual idols. In their place, robots and size zero models – see them weeping on the front covers of celebrity magazines and breakfast cereal commercials. These are the days of electronic networks, of fragmentation, when the voice of the individual is hidden within a crowd of many, when being top of pop means conformity to a monopolized record deal system. If Dylan was born again, could he even lift his voice high enough for anybody to hear? One would hope so.

On this note, I like to think of Dylan’s song ‘Sad-eyed Lady of the Lowlands” as an allegory for the oral tradition. For those of you unfamiliar to the song the opening lines go: With your mercury mouth in the missionary times And your eyes like smoke and your prayers like rhymes And your silver cross, and your voice like chimes Oh, who among them do they think could bury you?’

Indeed, who can and who will bury the oral tradition?

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Love, hate and pillows

Jason Stollsteimer of The Von Bondies talked pet dogs, strange sleeping patterns and Dublin drinking holes with Catriona Gray

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fter a five year break, a new record deal and another dramatic lineup change, the Von Bondies are back, with the album Love, Hate and Then There’s You. Jason Stollsteimer, lead singer and driving force behind the band spends quite a bit of time in Ireland, since he’s going out with Donna McCabe from the former Dublin band The Dagger Lees, which explains why the Von Bondies are playing seven dates here and only four in the UK. Stollsteimer, who spends three months a year in Dublin and is a regular at Anseo on Camden St, is full of praise for the Irish music scene, citing Fight Like Apes, Ham Sandwich, Republic of Loose and The Frames as his favourite Irish bands. The band are probably best known for their hit “C’mon, C’mon” (of the Lifestyle Sports ad fame), while Stollsteimer’s biggest personal moment in the media spotlight was when he was involved in the now-infamous punchup with Jack White outside a Detroit club, which culminated in pictures of his battered face appearing all over the Internet and ended in the White Stripes frontman having to attend anger management classes.

Strangely enough, neither the altercation or “C’mon C’mon” were mentioned in the interview, since I walked in on a particularly animated conversation between Stollsteimer and the publicist about the eccentric habits of a dog that he and his ex-wife rescued.

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“He used to crawl on top of me, and he was a big 65, 70 pound dog, and would sit on top of me and lick me while I was sleeping, and I’d wake up happy because I’d think it wasn’t a dog. But the dog would hug me like a human being. It had been so badly abused that it was obsessed with being close. It always spooned. It never curled up in a dog position. He had separation anxiety… My ex took him. That’s the only thing I miss about my ex-marriage, the only thing… About two years ago I got a divorce, but I started dating her when I was about 16 so I dated her for 13 years on and off. I’m not a very good rock star. I never really hoed around or any of that shit.”

When asked if he’d ever been attracted to any of the girls in the band – and the girls do change around suspiciously frequently – Stollsteimer replied: “No, I’d never touch those. Out of nine girls that have been in the band, no. I’m probably more attracted to my drummer [Don Blum]. After being on tour with girls, there’s no difference. I think girls are actually messier than guys, on tour.

At home they might be cleaner. Some girls.

But some are just nasty. The girls now are clean… they know not to mess up mine or Don’s bedroom. We all share beds, that’s true, we all do share beds.”

Stollsteimer’s not afraid to elaborate on the Von Bondie’s slightly unusual sleeping habits: “Don, um, I think he runs in his

sleep. I put pillows between us. He does too – I don’t want to misquote – he puts pillows between us too because I sit up with my eyes open when I sleep sometimes and that’s scary. And I talk out loud, like really full, fluent sentences. They don’t make any sense, but they’re like ‘Man, I don’t think so. Man, I really don’t think so.’ And my eyes will be open and I’ll be totally asleep. I’ve a lot of issues.”

Issues or not, he seems to have a supportive family: “My grandma comes to my shows. My grandma’s eighty. My grandma and grandpa come to every show in Michigan. They just came to one two weeks ago. I think they’re deaf. At least, I think I’ve made them deaf. I always point them out to the audience. At our last show in Detroit, our bass player was signing this really big boned guy, huge guy, like Buddha, and she signed his left breast and I signed the right one, and my grandma was standing there, my eighty year old grandma whose probably only seen my grandpa naked in her entire life and she signed his belly with a really large “Barb”.

Can you picture your grandma being at a concert at one in the morning doing that?”

One of the most interesting things about the Von Bondies is the calibre of their support acts. The band seem to have a knack of identifying new bands on the brink of global success: “We took Kasabian on their first tour, The Kills, The Datsuns on their first tour, Franz Ferdinand on theirs… it was the NME tour, it was us and The Rapture who were headlining and Franz Ferdinand was the first of four. And by the end of the tour they were the biggest band. We all knew they were going to be. It was obvious they were going to be… Even Kasabian, we took them

on their first month of touring. They’d never played live in front of audiences outside of their home town. We have open-minded fans and a lot of press come to see us because we put on a good live show, but our opening bands always end up being huge. I don’t know what that says about us. That we have good taste? That’s the only nice thing I can think of that would relate to that. But Fight Like Apes were the most fun to hang out with, because they were like kids. Like little monkeys on stage.”

Stollsteimer also mentions the problems with his former record label, which caused the five year delay to the album. The breaking point came when it was suggested that the band work with one of Paris Hilton’s songwriters, an idea which predictably proved distasteful to Stollsteimer: “Nobody will ever hear any of those songs. Every song on the record we wrote. I never physically finished a recording of one of those songs.

It’s bad.… Like David Gray or some shit.

Seriously, that’s what it sounds like. David Gray writes good songs, it’s just not what I do. Nothing wrong with what David Gray does, my mom likes that kind of stuff… And I was going through a divorce so I couldn’t fight. I was so tired from fighting in the divorce that I didn’t want to fight with the label. So eventually I just told the label ‘Fuck you, I won’t back my record.’ I feel so good right now, though, it’s like I got rid of everything at once. I’ve no credit debt, no nothing. I can go anywhere I want and I have nothing to prove to anybody because I pay for everything, so I don’t care what anybody else thinks.”

The Von Bondies play The Academy on 6 May. 21 April – 4 May, 2009

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Dark shines

Hugh McCafferty chatted to Dublin-based synth-rockers Dark Room Notes about their debut LP We Love You Dark Matter

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fter an aborted attempt to meet him in The Odessa Club (who would’ve thought they’d be closed on a Monday?), I bumped into Darragh “Camera” Shanahan, drummer in Dublin-based four-piece Dark Room Notes outside and we decided to stall it over to The Stag’s Head. We weren’t waiting long before frontman Ronnie Gaughan appeared at the door and made his way over to our table. For those of you unfamiliar with the band, Dark Room Notes have been knocking around since 2004 when Gaughan and keyboardist/vocalist Ruairí Ferrie got together with former drummer Ruairí Cavanagh in their native Galway. A change of location to Dublin, a new keyboardist (Arran Murphy), a replaced drummer and five years later, and Dark Room Notes have just released their debut LP, We Love You Dark Matter on Gonzo.

Before their current project, though, Ferrie and Gaughan had been in a number of bands together, as Gaughan explained.

“It’s kind of a strange one, me and Ferrie, we’ve always been in the same band; it’s just kind of evolved, y’know, it started off as this horrible grunge band when we were fifteen.” “Called Obskure, wasn’t it?” Shanahan interjected with a sly smile, “With a ‘k’?” “Yeah,” Gaughan returned with a selfeffacing grin, “the two of us have been constantly writing music, so it’s just developed from then to now.”

Shanahan had worked as a session drummer before joining the band in 2006. “I played everything from punk to glam rock to folky, jazzy bluesy things. It was just session work all over the place, cutting my teeth and learning off people. It was a great way to explore music and not get that committed to it. You’re just a flirt when you’re a session musician, you’re always winging it. But this band, this sound, brought something out.

So this is like my first proper commitment to a musical project.”

Before getting stuck into discussing the new record properly, the urge to ask Shanahan about his nickname/band moniker Camera was just too great. “Well, I get into character-based projects a lot. It was a Google thing, really, if you search for ‘Darragh Shanahan,’ you get directed to all my school projects and work that I had done when I was in DIT. It was an effort to keep those two aspects, photography and music separate, I suppose, which I probably shouldn’t have even bothered doing, but I did. I just decided that I would call my musical stuff ‘Camera’ and my camera stuff ‘Darragh.’ Don’t ask me why, I’ve got lots of names, they change. Also, I was always the one taking photographs of the band and I wasn’t actually in them because I was on camera, so the presence of ‘Camera’ is in title only. It’s just an esoteric little thing, really.”

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towards the end of last summer in London with Ciarán Bradshaw in charge of production duties. The band had a helping hand from legendary producer Flood (The Smashing Pumpkins, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, Nine Inch Nails, PJ Harvey) too. “He helped us out with getting equipment and the studio. He’s kind of like a guardian angel, constantly giving us little bits of advice

hour days and when we finished in the evenings, we didn’t just go back to our house, we kind of stayed in that same ‘band world’ for the entire time and it was intense and a bit crazy but good. It was really hot there as well and that kind of added to it because we were all a bit delirious in the studio.” “We brought out bicycles over as well,” Shanahan continued, “so that was kind of cool

The only thing we would get off bands like New Order or Depeche Mode, is that they spend time in the rehearsal space creating just for themselves and then they work with a producer and that gets interpreted into something that becomes sonic. But once that gets recorded you move on – I mean, we’ve already changed from this album we’ve just made. We’re already looking towards the next record and help and he’s up for remixing as well but we don’t have the million pounds to pay him on a daily rate so he does it when he can – we’ll see what comes out of it,” Shanahan explained.

The album sessions were an immensely rewarding experience, although a little insane at times, as Gaughan recalled. “We were there for fourteen days, doing twelve

cycling to the studio every day; we felt like the famous five, y’know. Really, the whole thing was an adventure and I think a lot of that is captured in the studio takes. Then, of course, it’s tiring and emotional and I think it brought us to a new level in our ‘bandness’ if you know what I mean. I think it’s all put us on the same page.”

What is the record all about, though?

“Sonically, there’s definitely a theme,” Darragh explained, “we’re creating landscapes with it. Then lyrically, that’s Ronnie’s department and he’s got stories going on there that are a secret to us.” The drummer nodded to the vocalist, who picked up the prompt and continued, “I suppose there is a general theme to the lyrics but I think it’s more like sometimes the sound of words and lines make you think of something, so it’s not a straightforward story or song, it just kind of hints at what might be there.”

On first listening to the record, the influences, musically, at least, are incredibly obvious – massive dollops of Depeche Mode with a spot of New Order and Talking Heads sprinkled on for good measure. In fairness to the four-piece, though, they make the synthpop sound their own with some striking hooks (such as the slightly discordant keyboards on first track “Each and Every One of Us”) and they keep the pace up throughout with some of the best tracks emerging towards the end of the album (“Shake Shake My Ceiling,” “Let’s Light Fires”). Funnily enough, the band members don’t listen to a huge amount of synthy music. “We don’t listen exclusively to these bands that people compare us to. I wouldn’t have too many of their albums,” Gaughan told me. “Yeah, they’d never listened to New Order until I joined,” Shanahan added. “We did know of them obviously,” Gaughan went on, “but I just wasn’t a huge fan.”

“The only thing we would get off bands like New Order or Depeche Mode,” Shanahan took over, “is that they spend time in the rehearsal space creating just for themselves and then they work with a producer and that gets interpreted into something that becomes sonic. But once that gets recorded you move on – I mean, we’ve already changed from this album we’ve just made.

We’re already looking towards the next record.”

So with an album in the bag, a solid fanbase (their recent album launch at The Academy sold out) and considerable critical praise, I wondered what was next for the band. “Festivals,” Shanahan began, “getting to collaborate with more people. We’re releasing ‘Shake My Ceiling’ in America to college radio; I think that’s happening next month. We’ve got some people who are fans over there and who are excited about the new record. We have been invited over, but there’s nothing definite dates-wise. There’s interest in Canada as well, people seem to be big into our sound there, like the cover star on the front of our album is actually a fan from Canada; she’s been our sort of town-crier over there.”

All things considered, then, the future looks bright for Dark Room Notes.

Dark Room Notes play the very acesounding Sibín Festival in Balbriggan on 2 May. We Love You Dark Matter is out now on Gonzo Records.

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Living Memory At a special IFI screening of his new documentary Tailwind, Michael Armstrong spoke to acclaimed Irish director John T. Davis about his life and work

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ohn T. Davis leans back, looks at me with eyes full of wise mischief, and smiles. “Film? Film is the most unwieldy and expensive form of expression there is going.” It’s not exactly the kind of thing you expect to hear from a man who has made a career out of documentary filmmaking, but then again he has the rebellious air of a silver-haired Keith Richards, with the same ramshackle yet lyrical way of speaking, albeit with a Belfast accent.

Lately, Mr. Davis has had proper cause to be a little frustrated. His latest work, Tailwind, a “meandering slow burner” produced

by Michael Beattie Media, documents the

A boy was writing to his mother, just writing by hand, and when they found the letter, it stopped with just a scrawl across the page, where the plane had gone into the mountain. It’s very sad. They’re all over the place, those wrecks experiences of the many different nationalities that were stationed in Northern Ireland during the Second World War. Despite the wealth of information provided

by Gary McFarland, an aviation historian who has had a lifelong interest in the subject, the film suffered from funding difficulties throughout its four-year development process. Davis was told by the BBC in 2002 (the 60th Anniversary of the American engagement in WW2) that the subject was too much of minority interest, and even when a new commissioning editor supported the project, he was forced to cut the 86 minute running time to under an hour for a television version that lacks much of the depth

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and structure of the complete film. Worst of all, five of those interviewed died before the film was completed, and so never got to see their stories in the finished documentary.

While clearly annoyed by the consequences of the delays, Davis appreciated the opportunity: “It’s soon going to be that old phrase ‘beyond living memory’, and I feel very privileged to have been allowed into these folks’ lives.”

It is a credit to Davis that these stories are the focus of the film, rather than any garish attempts to make the filmmaker the focus of attention, a common tactic in many recent and successful documentaries. The story of Ian Ross and Pat Rebbec, a romance typical of the era, provides the narrative thrust of the documentary: “Just like my Mum and my Dad, this is a great story about two people who met at the outbreak of the war and fell in love. He was sent to the South Pacific, flew spitfires and all other sorts of fighter planes. While he was away, his lady friend married somebody else, but he took a picture, and he carried that picture in his log book all around the world, it was in every theatre of the war.” The two later rekindled their romance, and are still together today, but not every story had such a happy ending. Marcus “Paddy” Graham, a veteran of the battle of the Atlantic, recounts a letter he had been forwarded by the RAF, from the mother of the captain of a U-boat that he had bombed. In the letter, she asked whether it was possible that her son had survived the attack and had made it ashore, possibly losing his memory in the process. Graham replied that there was no chance of his survival, but that he wouldn’t have suffered given the abrupt nature of the attack. What was startling was the response of the mother, who displayed a dignity and willingness to forgive typical of that generation, thank-

21 April – 4 May, 2009

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Left: Ian Ross’s First Tiger Moth flight in 50 years as documented in Tailwind Above and previous page: John T. Davis himself

If you stand alone, on a Sunday evening down there, you can hear the fighter planes and the B-17s, and you’re aware of the people that died. It was quite an emotional journey finding out what did go on there, I’ve so many questions I’d like to ask my father about that time ing him for the information, and expressing a wish that the world would never go so mad again.

Many other stories did not make it into the film, such as the tale of the B-17 bomber that crashed into the Cave Hill in Belfast, killing ten young men. A ring recovered from the crash site inspired Richard Attenborough’s 2007 film Closing the Ring, but for Davis, a letter found was much more poignant. “A boy was writing to his mother, just writing by hand, and when they found the letter, it stopped with just a scrawl across the page, where the plane had gone into the mountain. This kid was in communication, spiritual communication with his Mum when it happened, it’s very sad. They’re all over the place, those wrecks.”

But as sad as some of the stories are, the

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film also explores the excitement of wartime Ireland. While Ulstermen were fighting overseas, the huge variety of nationalities stationed in the country left local ladies spoilt for choice. Pat Rebbec remembers being warned off dating some men with the phrase “they’ve had experience!” while the efforts of displaced Polish airmen, and their wild reputations, are given particular attention. Hollywood films often seem to suggest that the Americans almost won the war on their own, but Tailwind makes clear the sacrifices borne by those who came from all over the world, and the people in Ireland, both in the divided north and the neutral south. Davis commented on one problem with forgetting such sacrifices: the story of Polish Tail Gunner Paul Wojciechowicz.

“The place where he lives is about a mile

from Ballyhalbert airfield and with no home back in Poland he settled here. But to this day he is hassled by the locals on grounds of religion, and I got so annoyed about it, this man who’d fought for these people, and they were harassing him; it’s just awful. You get the sense that because there was a war on those things fell into the background.

But nowadays, no one knows these people fought for them.” Given the unique aspects of Northern Irish society, the divisions that would later lead to violence were never far from the surface, though remained relatively harmless. “You heard some stories about locals trying to rip off the British. There would be truckloads of concrete coming in, time after time, and they would drive through the airfield, out the other side, and back in again to get paid twice for the

same concrete.” Such mischief might make Ireland seem like a backwater in the European conflict, but due to its strategic location, shielded geographically by the neutral south and the landmass of Great Britain, the north became a safe haven for allied training camps, and a vital launching pad for the battle of the Atlantic.

It was this relatively unpublicised role that attracted Davis to the project, who became aware of the history through his lifelong interest in aircraft and several visits to Ballyhalbert airfield. A key location in the film, he spoke of the “ghosts” that the abandoned station holds. “If you stand alone, on a Sunday evening down there, you can hear the fighter planes and the B-17s, and you’re aware of the people that died. It was quite an emotional journey finding out what did 21 April – 4 May, 2009

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go on there, I’ve so many questions I’d like to ask my father about that time.” Indeed, while his own connection to the period is never made explicit in the film, his formative years as a “war child” of a father from Plymouth and a mother from County Down gave him a passionate interest in that time, and his own life story is only possible due to the freedoms the previous generation fought to preserve.

While he has early memories of the last years of rationing at the end of the forties, Davis was of the generation that was perfectly placed to experience all the latter half of the 20th century had to offer, especially what he refers to as “the whole rise and fall of rock and roll.” He remembered going to parties in the 50s with Elvis and Buddy Holly songs playing for the first time, but came tn2

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of age in the ultimate decade of rebellion: the 1960s.

“I was lucky, in the right place at the right time. It was a kind of dream I wanted to live.

At that stage I saw D.A. Pennebaker [director of the documentary Don’t Look Back], quite by accident with Bob Dylan on the streets of Belfast in 1966. It was a magical time.”

Despite happening upon the recording of one most celebrated pop-culture relics of the time, Davis’ early interests did not lie in celluloid. “I didn’t start off life wanting to be a filmmaker, I always had an interest in music and an interest in art. Eventually I ended up in Belfast Art College, where I studied painting. Life rolled on, and I became a teacher for a few years, it almost drove me crazy, teaching art. So I got a job in the civil

service as a graphic designer. During that time, my uncle, the man I made the film The Uncle Jack about, died in 1974 and one of the things he left me was an 8mm film camera.

I felt a sort of guilt that I’d been left this so I started to use it, and within a year I was obsessed with it. I’d found what I wanted to do, and a lot of that was because you could have moving pictures, but with sound, music, anything you wanted in there.”

“A lot of filmmaking is down to yourself, your drive and dedication. Back in the 70s, the television industry was run by unions, and you couldn’t do anything until you’d served your time and to get in your membership had to be proposed and seconded. And I was blocked, not literally, well that too, but blocked from doing anything. I never worked my way up, I just did my own thing after deciding I wanted to be a filmmaker.

Just out of art college, I was very influenced

by Andy Warhol and I thought the only way to do it was just to do it. Make my own mistakes, talk to as many people as possible, and be inventive.”

It was at this stage of the interview that some further prodding on my part led to the previously mentioned comment about the more negative aspects of filmmaking, but Davis kept on working as a filmmaker, and eventually found his perfect subject a few years later. “In 1978, punk rock was happening in Belfast, you had the Undertones and the Stiff Little Fingers. That was music and I loved it, and for me and anyone involved in the scene it was a speck of hope and enlightenment with the kids in the darkness of the Troubles. I was there and I just started to document it, talk to the kids in the Harp bar.

And that film became Shellshock Rock, and it got banned on its first outing at the Cork film festival. They didn’t like what it was about, they didn’t like that these kids were more interested in being punks than being attached to the traditional values. They didn’t understand it as the texture of the film was in keeping with the texture of the music, in other words it was very rough and ready. But it had a vibrancy and an honesty, a very simple little film. They banned it, so

then everybody wanted to see it; it became an overnight success. I sent it to New York and it won a Silver award in the New York Film and Television festival.”

From there Davis moved to New York, befriending Pennebaker and the poet Allen Ginsberg, before a mugging while walking home from his job at the Peppermint Lounge gave him a desire to escape the city and return to Ireland. A lifelong fascination with America soon took him back over the Atlantic however, to make two documentaries about the American underclass: Hobo and Route ’66.

“I find going to America inspires me.

It’s very hard to know, I mean sure there’s problems with foreign policy: Iraq, Afghanistan, Vietnam, Korea. But I still love it, and I would have loved to have experienced America after WW2, with the economy and everything, all you can do is imagine that golden age.”

But like any good historian, Davis is aware of his own place in history, and thankful for it. “I’m glad I was born when I was born. I’d hate to be a child or a teenager now. There was an optimism then, despite everything.”

On the professional side of things, he feels that the difficulties he faced through his career in getting films made honed his skills as a filmmaker, and one of the risks of the digital age is a decline in quality control.

“It’s much easier to do it today but I don’t know if anyone has the discipline that is needed. It requires a different mental attitude to shoot film [rather than digital], you have to be much more precise in your ideas, and what you choose to actually run the camera on.”

While any brief sojourn through youtube could support much of his criticisms, if one thinks of the positive changes that occurred during his lifetime, what future filmmakers choose to document about our era will hopefully be from the standpoint of progressive nostalgia, rather than a tragic sense of missed opportunities. In any case, as far as John T. Davis is concerned, the point is not how we feel about our shared history, but simply that we never forget it.

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A conflict of style

In times of strife and hardship, surely fashion would be first to go? Not so, says Emily Lawn, as she takes a brief look at French fashion through the ages

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onflict and fashion; not two words you would generally believe to have much in common. I have found, however, that the opposite is true – the two concepts are, in fact, inextricably linked. In the same way that you can chart the history of society through the various conflicts which have taken place through the ages, the very same can be done with fashion. Many people would believe that in times of conflict, people have too much on their plates to allow such a frivolous phenomenon as fashion to distract them. I have found that the reality is quite the contrary; during times of terror, uncertainty and hardship, the wheel of fashion begins to turn at an even more ferocious pace.

Take Queen Marie-Antoinette for instance, who is perhaps better known these days for her infamous remark concerning cake (although it is highly unlikely that she uttered that mindless remark). The young Queen was married off to the King of France so as to create a link between her homeland of Austria and France as the two countries had been suffering from “relationship difficulties,” and Marie Antoinette found herself alone at a very young age, in a foreign country where many people felt hostile towards her. The whole point of the marriage was for the King and Queen to have children together to cement the bond between the two countries, but unfortunately Louis suffered from, as some history books ever so politely phrase it “sexual reticence.” Today, we might say he just didn’t have it in him, but in any case, he took years to get around to “doing the deed.” Not having been kept amused in the usual manner of newlyweds, Marie Antoinette was reportedly fairly bored during these first years, and realised that her position in France was very vulnerable and she needed to somehow assert her political power. So, like any girl worth her salt, she recognised the power of fashion and initiated the fashion for le pouf; those ludicrously high hairstyles adorned with yachts, flowers, clocks and many other ridiculous items, images of which typify the era. These zany hairstyles acquired an eager following and Marie-Antoinette became the style icon of her day. Rather like an eighteenth century Kate Moss, anything she wore was immediately copied by both the wealthy and the not so wealthy classes, regardless of whether they could pull it off with such aplomb as the beautiful Queen.

Young Marie began to work her powerful womanly charm on her wimpy husband and persuaded him to introduce inoculation to France, a procedure which had been in place in Austria for quite some time, but which was deemed highly suspect in France. Louis

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went against the advice of his people and advisors and got inoculated himself on his wife’s advice, something which had previously been unheard of within a royal couple.

Marie Antoinette commissioned the pouf à l’inoculation which featured syringes artfully set within a creative hairpiece which she smugly wore around the palace as a warning to those who tried to cross her path!

In considering fashion today and fashion during World War I, one name always springs to mind – the one and only Coco Chanel. This colourful, strong-willed and ultra chic character epitomises that era of fashion, having recognised that women were being called up to the workforce and, in working in traditionally male dominated professions, they needed clothing which was both comfortable and practical, yet still wanted something fashionable. Remember that at this time clothing was being rationed due to shortage of materials, and we can understand the challenged that faced Chanel.

She, as enterprising as ever, bought a large quantity of jersey from a local tailor; a fabric which was traditionally only used for male undergarments, but since all the men were away fighting, there was far too much fabric for the underwear needs of the men left behind, the tailor could do nothing with it.

Chanel snapped up the offer and began producing her signature look of slouchy cardigans, boating neck lines and knee length skirts all topped off with a string of pearls – the same classic Chanel style which girls still drool over today, sixty years later! The style is and was simple, elegant, timeless and practical; exactly what women are today and were then looking for, and the style was embraced with gusto.

World War II however was Christian Dior’s time to shine. France was occupied by the Germans who implemented another rationing system, and an extremely strict one at that. Skirts became shorter due to shortage of materials but also due to the

fact that people were cycling everywhere as public transport was very limited. On the whole, fashion during the war was not very inspiring. Colours were muted and drab, suits were boxy and masculine, and shoes were hideous, clunky, wooden contraptions due to lack of rubber and leather. Then, on 12 February, 1947, Dior unveiled his ‘new look’ collection which is recognisable the world over even today. The audience fell silent as the models strode out arrogantly swirling their skirts as they walked and knocking over the ashtray stands, there was an intake of breath; this was completely different to what people had been used to. The shoulders were soft and rounded, the waist was tiny and cinched in, the skirts were very full and long and the shoes were dainty and pointed. Like Coco Chanel before him, Dior’s ability to sense what women wanted at that time led to his success. Women were sick of the depressing, drab atmosphere of war time, of the greyness and masculinity of the “fashions”; they wanted to feel feminine again, to create a rustle with their skirts as they walked by, to show off hourglass figures. The irony of the ‘new-look’ is that a very intricate bodice was required to be worn underneath to pad the shoulders, bust and hips and to cinch in the waist – but that didn’t matter, women had caught a glimpse of the fairy-tale land that Dior created with this styles and they never looked back. The “new-look” was initially met with criticism from people who believed it to be a disgusting show of luxury and excess at a time when rationing was still in place in some parts of the world; an argument we might understand today.

The diorama dress, the centre-piece of the collection, used 40m of fabric for the skirt alone, an unfathomable amount even by today’s standards. The first fashion shoot for the line was held at the street markets in Montmartre, but didn’t last very long as abuse was hurled at the models and they were soon chased away. On a separate occasion one woman even had her “new-look” dress literally torn from her back by angry citizens as she walked down the street.

A snapshot this may be, but it is evidence that fashion is highly significant in the history of all nations of the world. It allows us to track the social, economic and political happenings of a society in a way which is, in my opinion, massively more exciting than reading about it in a history book. Who knows, maybe this recession that everyone keeps harping on about will force us to be more creative with our clothing choices and we will come out of it with creatively enriched minds and unique and beautiful new styles.

A girl’s got to look for some silver, silken, embroidered lining in sight!

21 April – 4 May, 2009

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The essential wardrobe for a fashionable recession Patrice Murphy tightens her belt for the upcoming summer season

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ternatively having duvet days ignoring the world and then facing everything with a wholly unrealistic happy, positive attitude, I’ve tried to bury my head in the sand. But this can’t go on; I’m going to have to recognise that we are in a recession, and it’s going to affect our wardrobes and, gasp, shopping habits. That’s why it’s time to take a deep breath, delve into your wardrobe for a spring clean and yes, go shopping to stock up on the essentials. Every girl in Ireland today needs a multipurpose wardrobe – firstly, it has to look good; we have moved on from Wildflower Girl and damn it we will not go back. Unfortunately Irish weather hasn’t changed, so layering is always a practical option, and keep in mind you’ll be needing a bag big enough to carry an umbrella amongst your other necessities. In this economic climate, a lot of us will probably be looking for jobs, so you’ll want something not too casual, but not too adult – and you’ll want it to double

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21 April – 4 May, 2009

up as everyday-or-night wear, because then it’s worth splashing out the cash on; much easier to justify to yourself and others (read: parents). With this in mind I’ve compiled an inventory of what every girl needs to see her through these difficult times – well, in her wardrobe anyway.

Let’s start with the basics of jeans; the staple of any self-respecting student and a great many people otherwise, and hard to believe they were, up until just a few years ago, horrifically badly-cut, dyed and worn.

Nowadays there are so many options out there that there’s just no excuse to resemble yer one from Saved By the Bell or even Kate Moss in Calvin Kleins. If you, like me, are seen more with denim covering your legs than anything else, invest in them – it’s that simple. True Religion, Seven and Rock and Republic are the brand names to be seen in, and can be found in Brown Thomas and various high-end boutiques in Ireland. Still a splurge, but one you needn’t feel so guilty about is the traditional brands of Levi’s, Lee and Wrangler – all available on the highstreet and with various washes and cuts, and of course high-street giants Topshop and River Island carry traditional styles, bootcut, boyfriend, the trendy skinny and only for true fashion-followers, highwaisted, cropped leg or even peg-leg denims. Bargain hunters might find gold at Penneys (remember to try before you buy, and note that their denims rarely have stretch, but that their current coloured skinnys are absolute musthaves!) or at H&M – a few Euros more, but infinitely worth it for cut, colour and comfort. For something a bit quirky, try Cheeky Monkey jeans available at Urban Outfitters. Remember that this season’s catwalks were all about pale and bleached denim and often very distressed, but that dark blues are more flattering and black skinnys will look more professional than other jeans, and can be dressed up much easier. In my opinion, get black skinnys at Pennys (by the time they’re worn out they’ll be washed out anyway, so just throw away and go get more), invest in an everyday slimming bootcut in

dark blue, go high-street for bleach and distressed (wear them all summer to get your money’s worth, because you’ll never wear them again), and find a comfy pair of boyfriend in a mid-wash for everyday casual and cool.

For those days when jeans just won’t do, a skirt is the way to go. Tulip styles, which are generally high-waisted and poof out into a full skirt then in tight around the legs again, are surprisingly easy to wear everyday with tights and pumps or bare all at night with leg-lengthening heels. They can be found not only on The Saturdays, but all over the high-street right now, in gorgeous bright colours for summer – and are best worn with some type of strappy top to balance out your figure, perhaps with cardigan for day. If that doesn’t sound like your thing, you could look at River Island for bondage dresses to rival Herve Leger, or hit Topshop, Oasis, H&M, Warehouse – anywhere you can think of really, for those laid-back slouchy dresses which will still look great this summer worn over leggings – although colours like turquoise, pink, purple and blue are the new black.

An all-time love of mine and current obsession is T-shirts – logo, slogan, kitsch or band; available in all colours, shapes, styles and sizes. Play rockchick for a day with a heavy metal band and lots of eyeliner, go preppy the next with a girlie colour and matching skirt or slouchy cool with a denim mini and oversized tee. Don’t forget many variations, including long-sleeve t-shirts available in not-quite-but-almost neons in Awear and River Island, the neon bright long racer-backs in Pennys, and every scoopneck, v-neck, every colour imaginable and also available in vests from H&M – pick out matching or contrasting colours and layer them up for cool daywear which screams effortless class.

Could we have survived this winter without cardigans over t-shirts and under coats?

And the cardi is still going strong, with long fitted muted colours, particularly grey, being a hit of the season, whilst greens, browns and blues look fabulous when thrown on big and slouchy – the perfect student look.

Another student favourite, the hoodie, has been taken over by Avril Lavinge emo-teenybopper kids, with their intense eyeliners and hair over one eye – the toss up seems to be this look or that of D4, though of course it

has to be Abercrombie, Hollister or maybe American Eagle, and only teamed with sweatpants from the above, perfectly backcombed hair and lashings of St. Tropez. Either way, you’ll need a hoodie of some description in your wardrobe for that summer evening chill which seems prevalent throughout the day in Dublin. In the wake of 90210 and mass job-hunts, the blazer is back on the catwalk, adding deliciously structured contrast to baggy harem pants. Black is commonplace, but navy is stealing the show this season by bringing an essential touch of nautical style to every outfit.

As far as accessories go, pearls are still here to stay for summer, and with Pennys having many styles on offer, there’s no need to steal your mother’s antiques. If you’re already over pearls, try rocking chunky bracelets stacked high on one or both arms – mix and match styles and colours for true catwalk style, and check out Topshop, Accessorize and newly-opened Funky Monkey on Nassau Street for these as well as large statement earrings – you can’t go wrong as long as they’re not claddagh. Lightweight scarves seem to be prevalent on the highstreet if not the catwalks, and of course ballet pumps are going nowhere fast – so invest in these if it takes your fancy or do as I do and buy Penneys, wear ‘til they’re done and buy more. Girls will always need high heels and students have more nights out than most – so I say that high heels should be an investment as not only will they make jeans and a top into an outfit, but you’ll need quality to have any hope of sticking it out ‘til 3am; so Office, Schuh and Faith are the places to go, and platform skyscrapers are the ones to buy. Courts have made a comeback as the surprise shoe of the season, but it’s hard to tell if they’ll stand the test of time in the same way as flats. That being said, Penneys’ cream courts, matching bag and creamflowery gold jewellery from H&M may not be essentials, but they’re on my summer wishlist... Hey, a girl can dream, right?

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Looking as IMMAculate as ever Carolyn Kelly on some current exhibitions in Kilmainham

Photo: David Martos

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hen the Irish Museum of Modern Art closed its doors for several weeks at the beginning of this year, it did not cause quite the interruption rumor suggested. It was in fact a scheduled closure to allow for the update of the museum’s electronics. However the site was far from abandoned; the old stables were not affected by the work and so initiatives like the Artists’ Residency Program continued. Other projects were not so lucky, resuming only when IMMA re-opened, though the only exhibitions to be really affected were those from the museum’s own collection, and therefore no artist’s show was interrupted. Both the Reading and Writing: Elizabeth Peyton and Calder Jewellery exhibitions opened April 1st, and demonstrate the unique and essential place IMMA’s exhibitions hold in the Irish art world.

Peyton is an American artist who, after studying at the School of Visual Arts in New York, rose to fame in the mid-nineties. She is a figurative artist whose work expresses a preoccupation with the depiction of youthful, romantic, intimate moments; in this instance, they also circulate around a literary theme.

Her body of work includes portraits of friends, historical figures and contemporary celebrities. Her figures are slender, elegant beings, with elongated limbs and an air of the androgynous to them. Her influences range from the likes of Andy Warhol and David Hockney, to nineteenth century French artists Eduard Manet and Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres. The twenty or so pieces are small in size, which suit the private nature of her subject matter. The scale and hanging of the pieces (some over fireplaces, others framed between windows), also fit easily into the somewhat domestic setting of the East Wing Ground Galleries.

As one moves from piece to piece, one is struck by how the delicacy of her style reflects the notion of a private moment.

Whether she is working in pencil, pastel or paint, her lines are fluid and expressionistic, while her detailing is delicate and respectful.

“Oscar and Bosie,” 1998, depicts a couple in a perfectly relaxed, self-consumed pose.

She rests her head on her arms, his head on her back, while he absentmindedly strokes her arm. Their eyes gaze out of the frame at something the viewer can’t see. One wonders if they are really seeing anything, or merely wrapped up in thoughts of each other.

The two-coloured lithograph uses both a plum colour and a darker brown. The

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warmth of the colours adds to the appeal of the moment. The colours are not as harsh as black, and the instances where the paint has been left to drip, or where the strokes are so quick and light as to allow the paper to shine through, suggest a spontaneous capturing of a moment the artist did not want to disturb. The pencil drawing of “Constance Wilde and Her Son,” 1996, is also indicative

all depict literary figures, or readers relaxed and engrossed with a book. The viewer will also be impressed by the variety of materials on show in the small collection and the artist’s various approaches to her subject matter.

The exhibition of Calder Jewellery in the New Galleries is something of a change for IMMA, and a venture into what many call

“Oscar and Bosie,” 1998, depicts a couple in a perfectly relaxed, self-consumed pose.

She rests her head on her arms, his head on her back, while he absent-mindedly strokes her arm. Their eyes gaze out of the frame at something the viewer can’t see. One wonders if they are really seeing anything, or merely wrapped up in thoughts of each other of the collection as a whole. The swift, flying lines suggest bodies, as if the artist is sitting before her subject in a parlour, scrambling to catch the beauty of the young mother and her child.

Despite this, great attention is given to the expressive elements of the face. The eyes of the mother gleam with love as she cradles the child in her arms. He stares directly at the viewer brimming with a youthful curiosity which arrests your own gaze. The images

“plastic art.” Calder is an artist we are all familiar with, though many of you may not know it, as he is the author of our very own “Cactus” in Fellows’ Square. Calder created pieces of jewellery for family and friends from found materials which include broken porcelain, remnants from his own work and various types of glass and wire. His designs consist of the arrangement of various shapes and symbols. Instantly recognizable is the Celtic spiral, a motif he uses repeat-

edly – in a set of spectacles, and numerous necklaces, brooches and bracelets. His jewelry has featured on the cover of high-fashion magazines, worn by Angelica Houston and Brooke Shields. Their pictures hang beside the pieces they wore, as do images of Peggy Guggenheim, and of course the artist’s own wife, for whom most of the pieces were created.

Perhaps it is this deeply personal element which truly makes the exhibition fascinating. The pieces were all created with owners in mind. Several of the first pieces that he made for his family and the family of Joan Miro are on show. For example, included is a bracelet spelling “Medusa”, of whom the artist was reminded by his wife’s hair blowing on board the deck of a ship. “Harps and Heart Necklace,” 1937, and the intricacy of its interlocking brass flutes, could only have been created by a sculptor. The fluid movement, the brass pouring over the shoulders and cascading across the chest to the heart is almost hypnotic. Your eyes, without realizing, trace the running turns and loops.

It is a truly unique exhibition, and the first time Calder’s jewellery has been displayed in Ireland. Many may be shocked to discover that this is the same man who created “Cactus,” with its harsh points and contrasting luscious curves and lobes. Others however, having seen the exhibition, will be overwhelmed by the carryover into this new art, however inconspicuous at first, of the artist’s distinctive style.

Both exhibitions run until 21 June.

21 April – 4 May, 2009

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This is a call In the wake of the recent “Cowengate” debacle, Caroline O’Leary calls for a separation of art and the state

Our glorious leader (below) and some recent artistic interpretations of his iconic mug. Credits clockwise from top left: www.jazzbiscuit.com, Conor Casby’s effort that recently got him in trouble with the law, Will Saint Leger (www.willsaint.com)

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21 April – 4 May, 2009

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rt always seems to be topical but rarely newsworthy. It is unusual for art news to reach the mainstream outside art sections and when it does, focus tends to be on record amounts paid for works or sometimes the controversy over outrageous methods such as blood sculpture or animal parts.

Yet not since the grim days of rioting over caricatures of the Prophet Muhammad has artistic expression come under such public scrutiny. The recent pantomime that has played out in government, the national press and the art world over “Picturegate” or “Cowengate” has been nothing short of mind boggling and seriously causes one to wonder just how much of a mess is this country really in at the moment?

For those not sure of the full story, on the 7th of March a man walked into the portrait section of the National Gallery of Ireland and affixed a painting to a free space before leaving without the notice of security. The satirical painting depicted Taoiseach Brian Cowen naked on a toilet clutching a roll of toilet paper, while the caption mounted alongside included Cowen’s name, career information and the line “Balancing a public image that ranges from fantastically intelligent analytical thinker to Big Ignorant Fucker from Offaly, the Taoiseach proves to be a challenging subject to represent.” The painting apparently hung for 20 minutes before it was noticed and the Gardaí were called. The next day another nude Cowen painting, this time holding a pair of blue and white Y-fronts, was hung in the portrait room of the Royal Hibernian Gallery and was only noticed and removed when a visitor inquired about it.

What happened next verged on the ridiculous. An RTE news report on 24 March featured the pranks, joking commenting that “The Taoiseach was not thought to have posed for the portraits” and having the works valued at zero euro, though they did reveal that an offer had been made on the second work if the artist wished to come forward to sell it. The report featured on the 9 o’clock news but mysteriously disappeared from further news broadcasts until the next evening when, after apparent pressure from the Taoiseach’s office, news presenter Eileen Dunne issued a full apology for the feature stating that “RTE news would like to apologise for any personal offence caused to Mr Cowen or his family or for any disrespect shown to the office of Taoiseach by our broadcast.”

Then all PR hell seemed to break loose.

Gardaí arrived at the headquarters of Today FM, where producer Will Hanifan had been in contact with the artist, requesting all source information at the instruction of “pressure from on high... the powers that be wanted it investigated”. Hanifan refused.

Stories of the paintings spread from RTE and the Irish national press to the BBC, the London Times, The Guardian, and even the American online Huffington Post. Speculation as to the artist’s identity and the possibility of legal action and jail time for offences to decency, incitement to hatred and criminal damage were rife. Politicians tripped over each other to express their opinions on the ethics of the both the work and the news reporting, with much of Fi-

anna Fail coming out against RTE’s report.

On the other side, Fine Gael’s Enda Kenny and Labour’s Liz McManus criticized the blatant curtailing of freedom of expression and media censorship.

The artist was eventually revealed as Conor Casby, a reserved secondary school teacher in his 30’s who was mortified at the attention the works had caused. Casby voluntarily spent 6 hours at Pearce Street Garda Station answering questions and turned over 5 more political portraits. Though a file is being prepared for the DPP, it seems that charges will not be brought against him.

The witch-hunt seems to have abated as quickly as it began, though it is hard to discern what is the most shocking part of this whole fiasco. Certainly the lack of journalistic backbone shown by RTE is worrying, as is our politicians’ ability to be sucked into such a ridiculous debate. From an artistic perspective, most disturbing is this barely concealed attempt at regulation and censorship. These concepts are not strange to the art world, the works of the Manet were refused entry into the Paris Salon for his depictions of nude women while Picasso’s famous “Les Demoiselles d’Avignon” was considered obscene at it’s first viewing. Expression and subversion are cornerstones of creation, and to condemn an artist for such innocently playful and satirical works is verging on censorship of Big Brother proportions.

Granted, the paintings are not flattering.

Cowen is depicted with a belly of pregnancy proportions, what can only be described as “man boobs” and a ruddy red face highlighting a prodigious chin and bug eyes. Yet they are not much more derogatory than the caricatures of him that feature weekly in newspapers. He is not depicted as a Stalin-esque despot or a dribbling idiot, but as a normal human being. Casby’s caption explains his intentions; to paint a picture that encompassed all sides of the man’s persona.

I can’t help but think that six months ago, when everyone was more optimistic about the country’s future, these actions would have been seen as the light-hearted, satirical pranks they were intended to be. The recent spate of redundancies and looming economic disaster has put people on edge, causing them to concede to a government perceived as the only way out of a declining situation. It is gratifying to see that most public opinion has been in support of Casby’s harmless actions, with much shock and disgust for the actions of the government and RTE. Casby has now indicated that he will sell the portraits for charity and hopes to leave the whole situation behind. We will probably never hear of him artistically again as he is marked by this stigma. This reaction to a harmless artist’s actions is truly ghastly, as is its reflection on Ireland. Art is frequently a reflection of its society and an illustration of national identity. What must the other countries reading these reports think of the actions of our government and national media? What future does any artistic sense of imagination and fun have in such a climate?

I for one am in support of reviving the ageold tradition of Irish emigration. At least in England Bansky can poke fun at the government without fear of governmental arrest.

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Fan-tastic!

Rebecca Long conducts a little bit of research into the strange phenomenon of online fan fiction

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hen you think of fan fiction what exactly pops into your mind? Spotty teenage boys with hygiene issues obsessing over Lord of the Rings and Star Wars, challenging each other to trivia ‘battles’ and composing epic odes to the third Steward of Gondor? Me too. However a little bit of research and a whole lot of incredulity has forced me to change my mind. Kind of.

So what exactly are fan fictions? Fanfictions are stories about famous characters written by fans of the original work – although to be fair the term ‘fan’ might be slightly misleading. I’ve found the phrase ‘obsessive fanatic’ tends to work much better. Not surprisingly, works of fan fiction are rarely commissioned by the original author, so fan fiction is defined by being connected to the fictional universe of its subject while at the same time existing on the periphery of that universe… or sometimes in a different one altogether.

A brief history then of the term (excuse me if I begin to sound progressively more and more geekish - I didn’t realise the extensive research involved would prove to be hazardous to my social image). Before 1965 or so ‘fan fiction’ was a phrase used in science fiction fandom to describe original, amateur works of science fiction published in fanzines as opposed to works published by professional authors. The modern trend of fan fiction as an expression of fandom and sometimes as a means of pointing out perceived deficiencies in an author’s work in a none too subtle fashion - was popularized by the Star Trek fanzines published in the 1960s. The first Star Trek fanzine ‘Spockanalia’ - no seriously - was published in 1967 and the trend rapidly evolved from there.

Strangely enough in 1970 83% of fanfic authors were female. I know, right? You were expecting those aforementioned spotty teenage boys with hygiene issues? Me too!

As of 2005 teenagers born between 1985 and 1992 make up the majority of fan fiction authors. That at least is no surprise. In 1980 ‘Listproc’ and ‘Usenet’ were invented allowing fans to gather on a public internet basis. As the decade progressed the internet would become the most widely used method of publication of fan fiction. No surprises there then.

So how do authors react to fan fiction

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- to people appropriating characters they have painstakingly created and placing them in situations that are just downright unbelievable not to mention often sexually improper? If you are J.K. Rowling you react very well! She has said in interviews that she is flattered by the interest these budding internet authors take in her characters and has given them full licence to do with them what they will, imaginatively speaking of course. Poor Harry and co.

On the other hand we have writers such as Anne Rice who has consistently and even aggressively prevented fan fiction based on any of her characters. Touchy much?

George Lucas seems to be of the same persuasion, although not quite so hard core as Ms. Rice. In 1981 Lucasfilms Ltd asserted its copyright over all Star Wars characters and insisted that no fanzine could publish any intergalactic pornography, something I’m sure Han Solo wasn’t too happy about. To be fair though, Lucas was and is only trying to protect the integrity of the characters he

has created: surely that is an author’s creative prerogative? You can quote all manner of clever critics on the idea of the death of the author and how the intent of that author - living or dead - becomes meaningless once the book is published. You might even end up sounding clever. But surely these authors have a right to police what happens to their characters? Especially if some fan fictions such as one I found about Harry Potter becoming pregnant after a torturing session with a squad of Death Eaters are the norm?

I mean surely after all he’s been through, the last thing Harry needs is a teenage pregnancy.

Fanfics come in all shapes and sizes. Most are of the short story variety but some have been known to stretch to novel length and even beyond. There are drabbles, oneshots, twoshots, possibly even threeshots for all I know: authors utilise them all in order to get their own particular view of a particular literary universe across. They are peopled by characters known as ‘Mary Sues’ and ‘Marty Stus’. They have their own publishing etiquette. They even have editors known as ‘beta readers’ who volunteer to edit all this escapist fantasy … stuff. It’s a whole world based around forums, communities and message boards. When I crossed the threshold of that world in the midst of all that ex-

tensive research I found many weird and wonderful things. One of the warnings that greeted me went something like this: “Welcome to this website (which I probably can’t name for legal reasons) in order to proceed you must be at least 18 and legally permitted to view Adult Content in your area. Are you legally permitted to view Adult Content in your area? Do you even know what your area is?” My friend, you were in the same boat as me.

On my travels I found people called Moronic-Muffin and HairsprayHeart. There were people obsessed with The Animals of Farthing Wood and the world of the Baby-Sitters Club which, up until now, I had mistakenly thought was quite small. I was wrong.

I even found a fanfic based on Beowulf! Just one. Apparently even fanfic authors have their limits. There are even a few on the Bible. Frighteningly there are more based on Darby O’Gill and the Little People and what might happen if King Brian fell in love with Katie then there are about the Good Book.

In this place two of the most miserable characters in literature can have a natter as the worlds of Harry Potter and Winnie the Pooh collide when Severus Snape meets an old grey donkey and “life is gloomy as usual.” Snape gets more than he bargained for when he mistakenly Apparates to the Hundred Acre Wood and comes face to face with a donkey even grumpier than him. You couldn’t make this stuff up! Although apparently you can.

The answers to many questions can be found in this world. For instance, for those of you who reside in an Enid Blyton universe what do you think would happen if Malory Towers and St Clare’s met in a lacrosse match? Chaos apparently. Or what might happen if an extremely intelligent FBI agent with a penchant for cracking security codes was sent back to Middle Earth after an encounter with a terrorist? Your guess is as good as mine.

So it is writing but it’s not really. It’s original but then again it’s not. It’s entertaining sure, but really what is the point of fan fiction? In many ways it becomes another type of literature. Maybe it comes somewhere in-between postmodernism and electronic fiction.

It gets kids writing, it allows obsessive stalker types to challenge all that nervous energy into something productive and it lets people have a giggle. In a way it allows the reader to write back, to gain a kind of control over literature that was previously only in the hands of authors; and if Snape meets Eeyore along the way, surely that can only be counted as a bonus.

21 April – 4 May, 2009

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Photo: David Martos

Jean Morley reviews some contemporary women’s fiction, otherwise known as “chick-lit”

Chick-lit or bin-it?

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nybody who has ever worked in a bookshop is aware of the divisive issue that is “women’s fiction”; books written for women by women. I remember asking the manager of the shop where I worked why books by women had to be displayed in their own separate section. Cordoned off, as if their radioactive content would marr other ‘real literature’, the women’s books were the guilty secret the shop tried to hide. Of course, chick lit was also the shop’s best source of income, which also might have accounted for the location of the stand near the door. But does “chick lit”, fiction “marketed directly to single, working women in their twenties and thirties” (thank you, Wikipedia), have any literary merit of its own? I review four bestsellers in an attempt to find out.

Confessions of a Shopaholic Sophie Kinsella (Delta, 2000) Some books are badly let down by their title and, thankfully, Confessions of a Shopaholic is one of them. If the name sends an involuntary post-feminist shiver down the spine, the book defies its own limitations. Sophie Kinsella manages to take a recent stockcharacter; the girl who shops ‘til she drops, creating a three-dimensional and original story from her woes.

Rebecca Bloomwood is a financial journalist who counters the boredom of stocks and shares with shopping, and an addiction to shopping with… more shopping. It seems that even underneath a plethora of shopping bags and perfume testers, there is room for an I.Q. Never will Rebecca be fooled into taking Press Conferences seriously; they are merely an excuse for wine and biscuit-stealing, the Financial Times is always a fashion accessory and never, ever should a desire for stability and status allow one to turn to the world of investment banking.

Perhaps it’s a bit of a leap to see Confessions as a commentary on twenty-first century consumerism, it exalts far too much in Prada handbags for that, but many of the funniest moments in the book are when Rebecca subscribes to not-so-special oftn2

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fers and bargains. There is also something quite believable about a woman using evasion-tactics to handle her debt, shoving unopened bank statements into nearby builder’s skips and dating her cheques with the year 2200.

However, it is most enjoyable to watch Rebecca forsake her paltry money-making attempts, from signing up for mail-order jobs, to investing in ludicrously expensive cookbooks in lieu of turning upon the financial institutions themselves. Watching Rebecca puncture a hole in the shiny veneer that is Banking PR is particularly satisfying in current times.

Lucy Sullivan is Getting Married Marian Keyes (Penguin, 1997) Marian Keyes is the patron saint of Irish chick-lit, a permanent fixture on airport shelves and bestseller lists at Tesco. But twelve years after its initial publication, Lucy Sullivan has yet to be upstaged as chicklit novel de nos jours. The book has all the features now considered standard in women’s literature: the menial job, an abhorrent boss, unhinged parents and the mandatory camp best friend. The novel has a backbone behind all the fluff, delving into alcoholism, family difficulties and depression as it describes Lucy’s mishaps.

Lucy Sullivan is a young woman of Irish descent, working a nine-to-five office job in London. Agreeing, somewhat unwillingly, to visit a fortune teller with the girls at work, she gets her fair share of strange predictions from “Madame Nolan”. However it is when she starts believing what is forecast for her romantic life that the trouble really starts.

Often in books of this type descriptions of the heroine’s embarrassments can get a tad tiring; there are only so many lipstickon-teeth moments that the reader can endure before irritation sets in. But somehow Keyes gets the balance right; the dialogue is always witty and sharp, my own favourite parts being the exchanges between the girls at the office and the descriptions of Gus, Lucy’s stage-Irish lover.

The conclusion of the book is some-

what expected, to say the least; we can spot Lucy’s Prince Charming approaching well before the final chapter. But never has predictability marred our enjoyment of chicklit, it makes it all the more funny to watch Lucy tussle with a lorry-load of frogs along the way.

Altar Ego Kathy Lette (Picador, 1998) I should have been warned by the recommendation on the front cover, when a notorious British newspaper tells you “bad girls will love this book” it is probably somewhat justifiable not to read any further. Three hundred and fifty pages later it is certain that I’m not “funny, loud and uninhibited” enough for a book by Kathy Lette. Then again, I’m not sure I know anybody who is.

Altar Ego does what it says on the proverbial tin. It’s about a woman whose inflated ego will not allow her to exchange vows on the altar. Although as early as the first chapter we’re told that Becky has met her soulmate, a human-rights lawyer with “buttery blonde hair, caramel toffee eyebrows, burning blue gas-flame eyes” (which frankly, sound a bit scary), we’re also expected to have sympathy when the same girl escapes out the window of a church, leaving him sweating at the altar.

Now, commitmentphobe storylines are quite de rigueur in chick lit and it isn’t her wariness to wed that readers will have a problem with. However, when the heroine herself reveals that “I should have hightailed it back to the church and married him there” straight after the ugly abandonment; one is forced to wonder what’s left for the proceeding three hundred and forty-nine pages.

A verbal sparring match between Becky’s best friends early in the novel suggests the pages will be tinged with some semblance of humour. It seems Kate, a chairperson of “at least ten pressure groups”, who hopes to be the youngest female prime minister ever, does not have very much in common with Anouska, a socialite who has only ever joined the lobby for twenty-four hour open-

ing of Harvey Nichols. But when things become predictably catty and fur begins to fly, the reader might do well to find refuge in the pages of another book.

Further Under the Duvet Marian Keyes (Penguin, 2005) “So put the kettle on and grab that Kit Kat chunky –everything else will wait”. I didn’t dare disobey the exacting directions on the fly leaf of Marian Keyes newest non-fiction collection. Three Kit-Kats and innumerable cups of tea later, I can safely say this is a very good book.

Titles like ‘I Shop Therefore I Am’ and “The Nicest Thing That Ever Happened to Me” might sound like the kind of uninspired tripe one would expect from a Leaving Cert English exam paper. But Marian Keyes moves past the bounds of a robotic personal essay to create an imaginative reverie over her life to date. Keyes is just as self-deprecating as her most beloved characters and it is wonderfully refreshing to hear a blockbusting author roar with laughter at the French film adaptation of one her books, or to discuss the sensitive issue of her own battle with alcoholism.

Even better is the second half of the book, in which Keyes decides to dabble in the short story form. “The thing is that I find it really hard to write short stories” Keyes admits in the introduction but, luckily, she’s just being modest again.

A few short pages is enough for Keyes to create unexpectedly funny situations: an angel being sent to Hollywood to learn about the seven deadly sins; the quintessential Irish mother, Mammy Walsh, giving her tuppence worth of life advice, “I’m sick to my craw of feminists. They’re nothing but shouty, bad-tempered termagants who try to make women feel guilty about everything.” Perhaps the nicest feature of the book is that all proceeds go to the charity, “To Russia with Love” giving the reader the chance to indulge in easy, not necessarily PC women’s fiction without feeling one twinge of guilt. Unfortunately the same can’t be said for the chocolate bars.

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An Olympian effort Barbara Alice McCarthy took a trip down to the Olympia for a play – and got a bit confused that there wasn’t a gig on

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onfession time: I only went to see October because my Mum (who has an allergic reaction to online booking-charges) sent me down to the box office to buy tickets and in a reward for ‘beating the system’, she said she’d bring me along too. I had never been to the Olympia to see a play- it was definitely more of a live-music sort of venue for me- so I was really quite intrigued to see what it could offer as a theatre space. It was bizarre. I was used to taking my comfortable seat in the Abbey or the Gate while listening to tinkling piano and discussing the set and ambience knowingly with a fellow drama student.

Here I was squashed into (let’s be honest) a terribly painful seat in the Olympia while ushers were selling ice-cream and advertisements were being projected onto the fire safety curtain.

In truth however, I really enjoyed the show. True, it was a bit rough-around-theedges and lacked poetry in the words, and at times seemed a bit too much like your mother wrote it but that’s what I liked. It lacked pretence. I felt like it was the first piece of theatre I’d seen in a while that was an actual slice of life today, it felt like reality.

Now, that’s not to say that reality on stage is what I look for as an audience member, but

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I felt that October tackled real problems that hit real people in Ireland today.

October makes use of modern technology too, which I love to see in the theatre.

For example, our main set (designed by Joe Vanek) is a kitchen and the back garden.

There is a 21st birthday party in the house, and rather than employ twenty extra ac-

One of the things that really drew me to see October was the fact that it was a new work, written by a female playwright, Fiona Looney. In my small academic theatre world, we are constantly questioning why there are so few recognised female playwrights in Ireland. Not once have I heard Looney’s name in an academic context.

This may have to do with the fact that October is only her second piece of dramatic work. However, I wonder whether it’s because October seems to be commercial. Because of Looney’s success as a writer previous to her dive in playwriting, she did not need to start out in smaller and experi-

I had never been to the Olympia to see a play – it was definitely more of a live-music sort of venue for me – so I was really quite intrigued to see what it could offer as a theatre space tors to give the illusion of a packed house, a projection of the party going on in the rest of the house was shown on the kitchen wall.

This theatrical trick worked very well and as an explosion of plastic cups and paper plates fell from the gantries, we really got the atmosphere of a trashed house post-party.

October not only takes modern Ireland and places it on stage (let’s not forget the array of recession jokes), it is also contemporary in its theatricality.

mental theatre spaces such as The Project Arts Centre and work her way up as so many Irish playwrights do, her name was enough to sell-out a large space like the Olympia with tickets at forty euro a pop. So, if success measured in premiering in our National Theatre, does it matter if the show is in a less prestigious space but sells more seats?

Does the theatre world frown on Looney’s career as a journalist, do we see her as someone who has bought her way into theatre-

making or is she a legitimate playwright no matter where she is produced, or how it is marketed?

October is certainly no masterpiece. Our protagonist Noirin (Pauline McLynn) is sarcastic, and very heavy on the one-liners. Her quick-wit often misses, and the constant hit of sarcastic jabs does get old very quickly.

The play is long, and could do with a good edit.

The language is simple and unpoetic, but I do think that this is to the play’s advantage; it is very accessible, which is perhaps one reason why it is in the Olympia and not the Gate. October will also date very quickly; I don’t see it having a long life with its references pop culture today.

I think what has surprised me most about this whole Olympia experience is that October is not even measured in theatre circles today. I was very entertained and challenged the night I went to see October, and it was a packed house. I found it so bizarre that people are not even discussing it as it raises so many questions about carers in Ireland and the responsibilities of family when a family member becomes sick with a debilitating disease.

Even researching October online, there are so few reviews. Was the play so much of a non-event that it wasn’t even worth talking about? Or, if it had been produced in the Project or the Peacock would it be a different story? From this experience I would certainly consider the Olympia as a reputable theatre space...well...when they change their seats and lower their ticket prices!

21 April – 4 May, 2009

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Peter Sheridan redeems himself Frances Beatty had a few words with director Peter Sheridan in advance of the stage production of The Shawshank Redemption

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ublin is hosting a world premiere!

And it’s not the latest offering from Marina Carr (hooray!) but something a little more Hollywood... A stage production of The Shawshank Redemption is opening at The Gaiety 19th May. In other exciting, showbiz news I got to have a chat with the director, Peter Sheridan.

The film version continues to be hailed by audiences and critics as one of the greatest films of all time, fifteen years after its initial release; it ranks number one on the Internet Movie Database of the top 250 films (below classics such as Citizen Kane and Casablanca). The pressure to emulate such success, and live up to an audience’s preconceptions, must be crippling but Sheridan is quietly confident that by going back to the original 1982 novella by Stephen King, Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption, the play can offer a different experience.

Sheridan won’t reveal the details but there are going to be aspects to the play that don’t feature in the film. I have my suspicions... Red’s (now indistinguishable from Morgan Freeman) fate is left open in the novella, which ends with him travelling to Zihuatanejo, Mexico, hoping to find Andy. In

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contrast, the film ends with Red and Andy meeting on the beach. Fingers-crossed Sheridan will reinstate the original ending which fits far better with the central theme of hope. After all, the novella’s subtitle is ‘Hope Springs Eternal’ and Red’s poignant concluding line is ‘I hope’.

Hope is not confined to the parameters of Red’s narration. Stephen King wrote the character of Red as a middle-aged Irishman with greying red hair (hence the joke when Freeman’s Red is asked how he got his nickname and his answer is ‘I’m Irish!’) but Frank Darabont’s casting of Morgan Freeman – in favour of Paul Newman and Robert Redford, both of whom were considered for the part - brought echoes of Nelson Mandela’s recent release after twenty-seven years in prison on Robben Island, as well as an excellent pun. Mandela’s campaigning for an end to the apartheid is paralleled in Red’s ability to reach out and unite the multi-racial population of Shawshank State Prison.

Rather than exploit Red’s Irish connections Sheridan, like Darabont, has chosen to foreground the theme of hope, with reference to 2009 politics. Shawshank is a metaphor for a punitive American system.

Sheridan’s casting of actor Reg Cathey, best

known for his role as Norman Wilson in The Wire, as Red deliberately seeks to echo the hope offered to this corrupt system under the leadership of the first black president.

The story may lend itself to political analogies but does it lend itself to the stage?

Sheridan believes that in terms of unity of space and action the theatre is the where the story belongs. Who’s going to argue with Aristotle? Nevertheless, this certainly makes sense. Claustrophobia is the most important dynamic to the prison setting. I can envision no artistic realisation in which the intensity of this location could be better conveyed than within the physical limitations of the stage.

No wonder Sheridan is un-phased. By now he must be something of an expert in prison dramas. He has done The Shawshank Redemption in reverse with Borstal Boy, which he transferred from stage to screen.

Being familiar with the strengths of both mediums he is quick to spot the disadvantage to Shawshank’s theatrical incarnation.

This is the difficulty in getting actors to age on stage. Brad Pitt managed the ageing process particularly well in The Curious Case of Benjamin Button through a combination of modern prosthetics and ground-breaking computer techniques but Sheridan and his crew’s only resource is old-fashioned makeup. Admittedly, they have only to manage the crow’s feet and frown lines of twenty years, as opposed to Pitt’s crippling eighty, but Sheridan acknowledges that it’s a hurdle that has yet to be overcome.

‘Technical difficulties’ aside, the tone of The Shawshank Redemption would seem to have a lot more scope for Sheridan to unleash his flair for sentimentality. The overriding criticism of Sheridan’s film adaption of Borstal Boy was his penchant for putting a poignant, nostalgic spin on what is essentially a hard-hitting story about a teenage hell-raiser. I agree. But I for one would feel cheated if The Shawshank Redemption didn’t allow for a few tear-jerking moments.

I don’t think those who bring their tissues along will be disappointed. Music is a sure-fire way to heighten the emotional impact and Sheridan will not be passing over any opportunities to indulge in one of his greatest enthusiasms. The scene in the film in which Andy Dufresne plays Mozart’s ‘The Marriage of Figaro’ over the prison’s loudspeaker system is one of the most memorable but unfortunately it is copyrighted to the film. However, Sheridan’s highly inventive twist on this is, in itself, a reason to go and see the play. Some of the prisoners form a band and the music that fills the penitentiary will be do it yourself, made on domestic items such as washboards and brooms.

The stage adaption of The Shawshank Redemption really does promise to have something for everyone. If theatre, film or music is your thing there is no reason not to enjoy a little pre or post exam treat. For those who find laughing best relieves the tension, there may even by a few jokes from the scriptwriters and part time stand-up comics Owen O’Neill and Dave Johns.

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Summer treats As the weather starts to improve, Melanie O’Reilly offers some summer survival suggestions to all the gourmands out there

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hat time of year is here again, our final issue of the year. The student body begins to work into a frenzy of uncertainty. How will they get through a whole five months without the wit and sarcasm of Trinity News? Well, fear not. Put the Kleenex down, and allow me to suggest a few Food and Drink Summer Survival outings.

My first ‘must go to’ outing is the Taste of Dublin festival June 11th to 14th. This hugely popular festival is held in The Iveagh Gardens and is always a day of worship for the gourmands and savvy cooks. What some people may not know is that there are Taste Festivals around the world. Sadly, we have missed out on Dubai, Sydney and Capetown. But, since our student body is known for jetting off in the summer months, I felt it might be a good idea to mention the other Taste festivals. So, here are a few mini-break ideas that are well within the means of a financially limited foodie.

Taste of Edinburgh takes over the city on the 29th - 31st of May in Inverleith Park. Edinburgh is always a fun place to be at night, and you never know, you might just enjoy a good ceile! Taste of London runs from 18th - 21st of June in Regents Park. I think we can all appreciate the lure of a mini-break to London to enjoy not only the festival, but its night time delights too. Also worth remembering are the daily treats of culture and shopping.

I continue to love the sterling exchange rate! The somewhat forgotten city of Birmingham also holds a Taste Festival from the 9th - 12th of July in Cannon Hill Park. Birmingham’s claim to fame is its rather young population. Nightlife, needless to say is varied to say the least. Birmingham will have a lot to offer not only the foodie, but the rest of the group, too, on this break.

Now, for the financially flush foodie there is the exquisite Taste of Melbourne festival held in the Royal Exhibition Centre in Carlton 27th - 30th August. You may be out in Australia to bag a surfer, or ride the waves, but I’ve been told the Taste Festival is worth leaving your board behind for a day. If you want to find out more about the chefs, restaurants and exhibitioners in any of the festivals, check out www.tastefestivals.ie.

In typical Food and Drink fashion, I feel the need to promote the sumptuous vacation experiences that France, Italy and Spain have to offer the gourmands of Trinity. Of course, it is next to impossible to list every culinary highlight of these renowned gastronomic countries. But, I shall mention a few ‘must tastes‘! Bear in mind these are totally biased opinions, but nonetheless I can think we can agree that I have not led you astray just yet!

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Italy. It’s not just the home of olive oil, pizza and pasta, although these are three very good reasons to visit. One must remember that some of the best Italian wines can only be sampled in, you guessed it, Italy.

The claim is that Italian wines do not tend to travel well, however, I like to think the Italians like to keep the best for themselves!

Head to Asti for a day and sample the famous Asti Spumante, Moscato or enjoy a glass of Grappa al Miele. The choices are infinite, and you are guaranteed to find a new favourite wine if you befriend locals in any part of the country. Wine lovers should head to the Chianti region on the 2nd of June for ‘Radda in the Glass’. An easy way to get there is by travelling by bus from Siena. Whilst in Siena take advantage of your time there and sample its Panforte.

As for food, Italy has a lot to offer. True pesto originates in Genoa, and if you want to taste real pesto then this is the place to go!

The only balsamic vinegar worth mentioning is from Modena, and you will be amazed at the surprising amount of vintages and folklore surrounding the home of balsamic vinegar! Tropea’s sweet cipolle rosse are famous worldwide. Whilst in Tropea you can sample the Vecchio Amaro del Capo liqueur, and the local cuisine which incorporates the sweet red onions and the spicy cheeses of the region. If you are travelling around Italy always remember to try the specialities. The seafood can be exquisite. It can even make a fish finger fanatic change his tune about eating tuna steaks or squid!

Spain and its islands are always a popular and relatively cheap holiday destination. But, also rich in culinary delights. Valencia, with its great nightlife and plentiful attractions, is also rich in regional cuisine.

Valencia is home to Paella, so if you are lucky enough to be in Valencia make sure to

between. These are but a few of the culinary experiences that await your arrival in Spain.

Needless to say, Spain also has a lot of fine wines to sample with the specialities, as you work your way through a gastronomic vacation a la española.

France. An impossible task to put into so few words the endless regional speciali-

Rhônes-Alpes and their Raclette, Fondue Savoyarde, and Gratin Dauphinois. Lorraine and its Quiche and Pâté. Alsace with its Germanic influences of Choucroute garnie, Baba au Rhum , and Bredela. Normandy and its Matelote sample the speciality. Valencia, Andalusia and Catalonia have great seafood dishes of shrimp, mackerel, squid, and flatfish. Catalonia is also home to the Crema Catalana which is similar to a Crème Brûlée. Andalusia’s specialities range from Gazpachos, the Sherries of Jerez, to the Yemas of the Convento San Leandro, with many more in

ties, and the history of creation, behind one of the most highly regarded cuisines in the world. Rhônes-Alpes and their Raclette, Fondue Savoyarde, and Gratin Dauphinois. Lorraine and its Quiche and Pâté.

Alsace with its Germanic influences of Choucroute(sauerkraut) garnie, Baba au Rhum(Rum Baba), and Bredela(Christmas

biscuits). Normandy and its Matelote(fish stewed in cider), Brittany and its Crêpes, Burgundy and its Boeuf Bourguignon(beef stewed in a red wine sauce), Escargots de Bourgogne(snails), and Gougère(cheese in choux pastry). Toulouse and its Cassoulet, Provence and Côte D’Azur and its Bouillabaisse, Ratatouille, and Salade Niçoise.

These are but a few of the regional specialities.

I am a terribly biased gourmande. I have lived in France and thoroughly appreciate the passion for food that is still alive and thriving. It has such a vast and rich history of Cuisine, that has invaded homes around the world. Coq au Vin(chicken stewed in red wine with lardons, mushrooms, garlic and a bouquet garni) was one of my favourite childhood dishes, and the ultimate Sunday comfort meal, and very easily prepared in Ireland. If you spend any amount of time in France over the coming Summer months, I think you will agree that French Cuisineis one of the reasons why people return there time and again. There is always more to see and taste.

I wish you well on your Summer of Gourmandise!

21 April – 4 May, 2009

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Restaurant reviews

Caslte Way, Golden Lane, City Centre South

phone

01 4759616

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s tion Offce na

Having never sampled Argentine food, I set off for Ireland’s ‘first and only Argentine restaurant’ eager to soak up some atmosphere and learn more about the traditional cuisine.

My friend and I arrived at 6.30. Not only were we the only customers, but the entire staff were gathered by the door, at a total loss. An uncomfortable entrance; not a good start.

The dining area was spacious, airy, and just saved from being too minimalist by some splashes of red paint and fancy potted plants. The tables, set with white linen and expensive-looking silverware, were undoubtedly classy. The fact that the place was totally dead did nothing to help the rather strained atmosphere.

This strain was further emphasised by the strange synthesised music playing in the background.

My friend and I opted for the pre-theatre menu, served Monday-Thursday, 5-7pm. It offers a starter, main course and a dessert for the reasonable price of €23. There wasn’t a huge choice. The main courses were very limited – just grilled chicken, steak, shrimp, salmon or pasta of the day. As a greedy carnivore, I wasn’t too bothered by this, but not so good for the vegetarian customer. We were particularly confused by the fact that the menu made no mention of any side dishes or sauces.

We both started with the empanadas, traditional Argentine pasties. Breaking open the puff-pastry casing, we were somewhat underwhelmed to discover nothing more than dry, crumbly mince

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The Cedar Tree

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11a St. Andrew Street, Dublin 2

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01 6772121

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meat, under-spiced and with no sauce.

Things did not improve when we got our main course. I had the grilled salmon, which turned out to be served with rice, a white wine creamy sauce and a selection of vegetables. I came for authentic Argentine food. What I got was Irish salmon, Asian rice, a French sauce, and a bizarre bowl of roasted Mediterranean vegetables mixed with steamed broccoli and cauliflower. My friend did not fare much better, with over-cooked chicken, under-cooked dauphinoises, and the same boring salad that had accompanied her starter.

The menu boasted three desserts. I chose the ‘Chocolate Lava’, while my friend plumped for the ice-cream. As for mine, if you must name a chocolate fondant in honour of molten liquid rock, at least have the decency to make sure that the centre isn’t stone cold.

My friend and I had every intention of leaving a tip, but were robbed of the choice – and our bus fare home – when the waitress did not bring us the change from our €50, which I felt was rather presumptuous.

If a restaurant is producing such careless and uninspiring food when the place is empty, and they have the time to devote their full attention to the few customers, one can only wonder what happens when there is a full house. Obviously the recession has not made certain restaurants raise their standards in a bid to win over the public. A sad, but common problem in our fair city. Clare Aldworth

They say the early bird catches the worm, but in Dublin these days, cash-strapped students can enjoy much better dining options than chowing down on Earthworm Jim, provided they know where, and when, to go. My only regret after visiting The Cedar Tree, a charming and stylishly authentic Lebanese restaurant situated just a few minutes from Trinity, is that my dining partner and I were a little too late to take advantage of their generous offer of a three course meal for only €19.95.

It could have been the unnecessary diversion we took to get into and out of college on a Sunday (it always pays to check the arts block is open), or the general feeling of displacement caused on the day the clocks go forward, but in any case, we arrived just ten minutes late to sample an early bird menu that runs from 5.30 to 7.30 every day.

The early bird selection condenses the best elements of the main menu, focusing on delicious rice dishes, falafel and a range of marinated meat dishes and Kafta skewers. Given the generous portions, it really is a great deal, but the only problem with the smaller menu is that the vegetarian range is seriously cut down from four specialist options to just one main course: an aubergines and chickpeas casserole that may not be to everyone’s taste.

For our part, we bit the bullet in terms of prices, made all manner of excuses for why we should treat ourselves, and chose to sample the vine leaves stuffed with tomatoes, rice and parsley to start

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with, followed by the Kafta Kishkash and home made Beef Shawarma. Those looking for bland flavours should perhaps stick to Captain America’s, as many of the tastes of Lebanese food and wine are strong to the point of overpowering.

But if you’re looking to sample something a little more exotic, The Cedar Tree is the perfect venue: friendly staff, wonderful food, and an atmosphere that manages to avoid either the pretentious sterility or ill-advised kitsch décor that can ruin many restaurants.

My spicy sliced beef dish, in terms of both presentation and flavour, was miles away from the standard late-night kebab many of us are acquainted with, while the Kafta Kishkash came complete with a dish of walnuts that made the perfect after-dinner snack.

As often happens when living in Dublin, however, problems only arose with the bill, and while it was most definitely a problem of our own making, the relatively short period of time in which you can avail of the early bird option, and the steep hike in prices after 7.30 could present all manner of problems in terms of romantic dates or meals with friends.

Not for the first time, the entire experience left me looking forward to the day when a student’s budget will be a thing of the past, but one need not let the opportunity to try this restaurant pass you by.

Just be sure to have your watch set at the right time, or do the decent thing and ‘treat’ your parents to a nice meal next time they visit. Michael Armstrong

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Film reviews

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Let The Right One In is Tomas Alfredson’s adaptation of a novel of the same name by John Ajvide Lindqvist. Previously an unremarkable comedy director in his native Sweden, this genre-defying picture has brought Alfredson his first taste of international acclaim, with numerous awards and mass critical praise coming from all angles.

On one level the film tells a story that may seem familiar. Our principal protagonist is Oskar (Kåre Hedebrant), a twelve-year-old boy from a Stockholm suburb who is an outcast in society, dreaming of revenge on a world that shuns him. He is bullied by his peers, completely friendless, and caught between the homes of his emotionally remote mother and his alcoholic father.

Then we meet Eli (Lina Leandersson), an equally disaffected but hauntingly beautiful twelve-year-old girl, who has recently moved into the apartment next door to Oskar and his mother. From there, a tentative friendship blossoms into a captivating romance and the alienation that is rooted within both characters is slowly dispelled through the course of their relationship. This coming-of-age drama has been done before. As it turns out however, Eli is actually a vampire and, as you can imagine, this deviation from the beaten track complicates things.

Aesthetically, Let The Right One In is often striking. Black night skies contrast with the enveloping white of the snow to create a wonderfully tragic moodiness,

echoing Ingmar Bergman’s expressionist tendencies, and it is this environment that hosts Oskar and Eli’s first meeting.

Long takes and distant or skewed camera angles maintain a detachment from the action that allows a greater objective engagement with the film. The more violent scenes are also treated with the same detachment and the camera is never seduced by the potential “pleasures” of the film’s gore value, with all violence handled artfully, as exemplified by the final sequences.

Despite these achievements, Let The Right One In does have one problem.

Considering all the praise it has received as an emotional and human story, narrative and character development are somewhat lacking, relying on the vampire element for impetus. This kind of fault is mostly hidden behind wonderful images but is present nonetheless.

The unfortunate compulsion of many to force films into specific holes and genres before engaging with the content may be thwarted by Let The Right One In. Does the unusual merging of horror and young romance result in a different kind of drama, or maybe a fresh take on the vampire film? This distinction is made depending on what you go to the cinema for: art house sensibilities, or tension and scares. The benefit of this is that it does appeal to art house cinema audiences, while also catering for those who simply want to see a vampire film. At any rate, both audiences will be happy to pay the admission price. Cathal Wogan

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John Hamburg

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Paul Rudd, Rashida Jones, Jason Segel

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105 min

I Love You, Man is the most recent off shoot of the Judd Apatow school of comedy (Anchorman, Knocked Up, 40Year Old Virgin). While Apatow is not actually involved in this film, if you like his repertoire, you will like this. The concept is simple: Peter Klaven (Paul Rudd) is an L.A. real estate agent who is about to get married, but realizes he has no male friends and, with the help of his brother (Andy Samberg), embarks on a journey to find a new best friend. After a few disastrous ‘man-dates’ Peter finds Sydney (Jason Segel), and they hit it off.

Of course, having such a simple concept is not such a bad thing when you have actors who are capable of making you laugh regardless of snappy punch lines and great writing; and that is exactly what this film has in Paul Rudd and Jason Segel. Rudd carries off the awkward sensitive ‘relationship guy’ with style, although is sometimes a little too reminiscent of the awkward blabbering of The Office’s Steve Carrell, without being as ridiculously oblivious. Segel coolly captures what it is to be a guy’s guy who likes to just hang out in his self-styled ‘man-cave’ with built in jerk-off station, multiple televisions, and rock stage.

The essence of the comedy in this film lies in the dynamic of Rudd and Segel’s relationship. Peter (Rudd) is just simply jaw-droppingly bad at being a typical guy. While Sydney (Segel) is completely at ease throwing out nicknames (Pistol Pete), going nuts, and rocking out, Peter’s attempts to join in are embarrass-

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ingly weak and he knows it. His nickname attempts range from ‘Toats magoats’ to ‘Jobin’, each of which he openly admits make no sense. Peter is too sweetly sincere, and too in touch with his sensitive side to indulge in the gloriously insensitive modes of male bonding: the reckless sex chatter and sports talk, the need to be a guy. However, through their mutual love of the band Rush, Peter manages to throw off the shackles of sensitivity and become a man’s man.

John Hamburg, who co-wrote and directed the film, fills out the cast with a myriad of other great comic performances, including J.K. Simmons as Peter’s father, Jane Curtin as his mother, and Andy Samberg as his gay brother.

Interestingly, it seems that Peter would make a better fit as the gay son, while Samberg is actually a pretty cool dude who works at a gym, who just happens to like men. Even their all-American Dad calls Andy his best buddy and gets an honorary membership of the gay community. Jon Favreau and Jaime Pressley add some further dysfunction as a married couple from hell.

Overall, there are some genuine funny moments in this film. It slows a little towards the end where it meanders into the typical last-minute wedding climax, followed by the heartfelt speech of love and brotherhood, all while the minister and guests look on. However, by this time, you will have laughed enough to make the film well worth your time. Rob Grant

21 April – 4 May, 2009

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Film reviews

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Apparently, Bill Maher was doing stand-up in America all throughout the 1980s and 1990s, but if you, like me, have never heard of this guy, he is worth checking out.

Let’s decode Religulous, which could be either “religious + ridiculous”, or “religious + gullible + credulous”.

Both of these ciphers encapsulate exactly the types that we encounter when our hero sets out on an extended tour of America, Europe and the Near East, seeking to chat to devout religious adherents and discover more about their beliefs.

The premise of the film is that since the ancient days, when the Jewish and Christian scriptures were written, man has grown in power to be capable of destroying the world. Armageddon is no longer a possibility resting exclusively in God’s hands.

The resulting film is a caustic documentary showing these fully convinced followers (Christian, Jewish, Muslim and other) being interviewed everywhere from garish sights like the Holy Land theme park, the trucker’s chapel and the Creationist museum, to the shrines of the Vatican and Jerusalem.

There are too many incidents and highlights to attempt a plot synopsis.

Better then to talk about the experience that is Religulous, which is a slightly more intellectual version of a Michael Moore film.

There is no better drama than the absurdity of real life, particularly one that

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Charles and Thomas Guard

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Emily Browning, Elizabeth Banks, David Srathairn

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87 min

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is colourful and extreme in any aspect.

Such intensity is here doubled through “insane” editing, that follows the rule of pun and literalism. Images from outdated biblical epics of the 40s and 50s abound, mixed with footage of bomb explosions, clever special-effect commentaries, and nauseating camera angles and cuts.

In spite of these jarring techniques, Religulous makes several interesting points. It is not for nothing that the majority of action is on the American soil; and that the religious lunacy targeted is a concoction of the great three monotheisms, plus their cult deviations. Former President Bush features in the film as well, as do all ranks of religious and political leaders. And when, between their corrupt and dubious talk, the subject changes to ordinary Joes or the mass population, it is clear that the film seeks to demonstrate the pernicious manipulation of gullible and credulous folk by the politically powerful.

The experience of this film must be much like having been hit over the head.

Be prepared to take it. While it can be turned into a platform for further discussion, the film itself leaves too many issues unresolved; perhaps due to sheer volume of things to cover. It may be preaching to the converted, but please don’t think Religulous has done the thinking for you. It is explosive because it asks us all, to question our beliefs and assumptions about the politics of religion. Eglé Zinkuté

The Uninvited, directed by the Charles and Thomas Guard, is a remake of a Korean film called A Tale of Two Sisters, directed by Kim Ji-Woon. Having seen the original and knowing its plot and characterisation, which is largely retained (though drained of effect, tone and meaning) in the remake, one can anticipate the clumsiness of execution and vacuity of the endeavor from its very title. Aside from the ugliness and vague portentousness of the word itself, the title is something of a red herring; it refers to a portion of the narrative rendered redundant by a twist in the story.

In the original, as far as I can remember, this twist was at once bewildering and satisfying; here it is, while not satisfying, enjoyably hokey but basically pointless.

One of the benefits of bad remakes such as these is that it encourages viewers intrigued by some of the ideas to return to the original, and while A Tale of Two Sisters remains well worth seeking out, the surprise is somewhat ruined. Any arbitrary twist would have served the film just as well, and it’s a shame that it stuck this close to the original.

The Uninvited concerns Anna (Emily Browning), a teenager traumatized by the death of her sick mother in a fire, returning to her family after a spell in a mental institution. Her widowed father Steven (David Staithairn) has married the woman who nursed his wife, and it becomes evident that this woman is a malevolent presence in their beautiful home. One of the better points of

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the film is the palatial waterside house where most of the events take place, which is well shot and very pretty. The entire cast is similarly photogenic, but the performances, aside perhaps from the protagonist’s sister, are uniformly uninspired. The plot itself unfolds routinely. As the girl’s stepmother becomes increasingly sinister and the girls themselves increasingly suspicious and enterprising, there is much opportunity for entertainingly over-the-top acting, however it is far too unoriginal to be enjoyable. It’s not that the film takes itself too seriously, but just that much of the cast passes up opportunities to have any fun with the material. The film did make me jump rather embarrassingly at one point, and the setting and affluence of the characters is quite easy to take in. The film’s numerous shots of creepy doors and unsettling lighting are quite effective but should have taken place within a more interesting narrative. The film also evinces a weird proclivity for graphic depictions of spinal and muscular trauma which a number of other recent horror films share, and apart from this, the shocks are generally tame. I mentioned that there is little to be recommended in the performances, however the idea of spooky things happening in an interesting building is always enjoyable. Overall however, the film is not good; the tension is completely transparent and almost everything is derivative, even that which doesn’t appear in the original film. Eoin Rafferty

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