Imagine Robert Wyatt’s phrasing and isolation in ‘Shipbuilding’ and you get some idea. The set ended with what he described as a bit of a shorter jam than usual because we’d been so polite as to listen to him. Essentially it imploded with apocalyptic de-tuned, atonal multi-pedal mayhem. The lyrics were moodily Gothic. ‘The End’ was an inevitable comparison. What his full band line-up get up to we await in trembling anticipation – 2011.

The Glee Club deserved its title on this bitter, early Winter’s, evening with a warm reception at the box office and even the doorman anxious to get us in out of the cold. The audience were likewise disposed, not reverential but certainly attuned to the ambience.

Paul Smith (yes, Maximo Park, that one) is a self-effacing performer, his song-writing is introspective, heart-on-sleeve candid, but not indulgent; reflective but never maudlin. (Though some album critics have claimed the latter, particularly with ‘Strange Friction’). Literary, with contemporary Pop subtle nuances and empathic sensibilities: melancholic and ambiguous? Perhaps. His is a craft that reminds this reviewer, at least, of those more innocent days of quintessentially English compositions from the likes of Martin Stephenson & The Daintees, Stephen Duffy’s Lilac Time and Prefab Sprout.

The performance drew principally on songs from Smith’s 2010 album, ‘Margins’ through out which his engagement with the audience was warm, effusive and inclusive. Likewise, they were affectionate in their forgiveness when he fluffed a couple of songs. Crafty stage ruse that, Paul, show your venerability and they cuddle you all up.

I’m bidden to say that his voice has echoes of, but with far less vibrato, early Brian Ferry (the North East lilt?) and drawing the comparison further, the intelligent use of counter-beat rhythmic arrangements and shifting time signatures together with the ethereal keyboard harmonies, had suggestions of Roxy Music. Some songs saw Smith really exposed, his breathing, pauses, sense of moment complimented and emphasised the fragile context of the song’s narrative, no more so that with ‘I Drew You Sleeping’. His talent is to distill the every day ephemera, the ebb and flow of relationships and expose the essence of the human condition: albeit cryptically at times.

But they could party though with the rice-wine heady, calypso swinging ‘This Heat’, or as Smith would have it, his Kiora rhythm song. Much more but too little space to elaborate. The encore broke with convention with Smith going solo. Well, he did the evocative ‘Pinballs’ with drummer/producer, Andy Hodson, on ukulele, and closed with a medley including ‘I Lost My Head/Apply Some Pressure’. A charming evening.

Stage set list: While,North Atlantic Dream, Crush, Improvement/Denouement, Alone, Strange Friction, I Wonder if, This Heat, A Little Lost, Drew You Sleeping, Tingles, Dare Not Drive, Our Lady Of Lourdes, Pinballs, Everybody Hurts. (improv medley).

Review – John Kennedy
Photos – Katja Ogrin

Jape is relatively unknown over here, yet back in Dublin he’s an award-winning star.  This does not come across in his humble shuffle onstage, but is there nonetheless in his confidence and humour.  With songs such as ‘Floating’ and ‘Graveyard’ infecting the packed crowd with their electro beats and dark humour (‘It’s such a short short distance from the nipple to the soil’!) he is a perfect warm-up for the delicious Lisa Hannigan.

I could end this review there – clearly I am deeply enamoured with the delicate singer-songwriter who once accompanied the great and vengeful Damien Rice.  Her vocals proved to be as clear, powerful and perfect as her recordings, and her presence on stage was like witnessing something miraculous and beautiful for the very first time.  If I were to end my review there, I might risk sounding like a psycho-stalker, so instead I shall expand a little more.

The stage was an intimate reproduction of her new album, ‘Sea Sew’, down to the hand-embroidered backdrop that refused to stay up, and the ornaments and fairy lights dotted about.  The set included most tracks from the new album which delicately layers craft references as metaphors for relationships (‘Ocean and a Rock’) alongside scientific charts (‘Venn Diagram’).  Interspersed were some ingenious covers, including a haunting rendition of ‘Playground Love’ (Air) and a gravelly dirty version of ‘Lady and the Tramp (Peggy Lee).  Rather interestingly, her encore also consisted of two covers, ‘Couldn’t Love You More’ – Lisa’s favourite John Martyn track, and finishing with a drawn out version of ‘Free Until They Cut Me Down’ by Iron and Wine.  Throughout, Lisa said little but smiled and responded to the crowd between songs. Her delicate politeness and gentle demeanour only amplified the quirkiness of her lyrics and melodies, and the intimacy of the show.  

Many were sad to see her split with Rice, but having experienced her solo show I only wish it had happened sooner.  Her songwriting is beautiful and her performances are superb.  It’s a loss for Rice, but definitely a win for the music industry overall.

Words: Adrienne Frances
Photos: Lee Allen

In live performance Emmy the Great (songwriter Emma Lee-Moss) fought her corner, albeit subtly, for anti-folk.  She has been tied to this movement since playing for legendary promoter Sgt Buzfuz as one half of duo Contraband in 2003, and on Wednesday night those associations were confirmed.

The Glee Club proved to be a perfect setting for her style, rows of chairs facing a small raised stage giving the (hippy youthful!) collective the chance to explore her lyrics, the highlight of the gig.  Sometimes described as wordy, she flitted over dramatic and personal themes, hiding the depression of break down and “almost having a baby” in between more jovial folk moments.  To a more careful listener, something the awe struck seated room allowed, her wordiness revealed a subversive dark humour, full of philosophy and references to over-sexed Charles Bukowski (amongst many others!)  

Her ensemble, a collaborative work comprising of Euan Hinshelwood of Younghusband, Tom Rogerson of Three Trapped Tigers, and Ric Hollingbery of Pengilly’s, sang solid “alleluia” fuelled harmonies throughout.  Such gospel undertones harked to Damien Rice, where the combination of Emmy’s pronounced vocals lying on top of the male backers reinforced the emotive qualities of her lyrics.  These lyrics are, in part, secretive, disarmed by her stage presence and her beauty, but they are also confessional, full of self-doubt.  Maybe this is the draw for the check adorned teen girls that filled the Glee club, sitting transfixed by lessons from Emmy’s memory.  For the male contingent, it was the orchestration rather than her diary entries that upheld the (e)motion of the gig.  Clever clashes of clavichord and violin, and well-programmed backing from Tom Rogerson proved to be a welcomed antidote; it also made sense to prove their collective talents in the wake of their debut album “First Love”.