Reviews

Irish Times writers review Brad Mehldau at the NCH in Dublin and Tobar na Scéalta at Siamsa Tíre in Tralee.

Brad Mehldau

National Concert Hall, Dublin

Ray Comiskey

The word "jazz" had a low profile, at least visually, when Brad Mehldau played at the National Concert Hall on Monday. So it was particularly satisfying to see a near-capacity audience, few of whom seemed likely to go near anything described as jazz, demand three encores and give the pianist a standing ovation at the end.

He deserved it. In an impressive display of technique, rigorous intellectual application and emotional warmth he underlined just why he is regarded as one of the world's foremost jazz pianists, a field abundantly populated with brilliant performers.

What was also evident was his increasingly lyrical approach to solo performance, and, while marriage and fatherhood may have a part in that, it also seems simply evidence of the growing artistic maturity of an extraordinary musician.

He seems less inclined to dwell obsessively on some aspects of performance, for example, especially when dealing with material by artists such as Radiohead; on Night Out the use of a motif seemed less relentless and more inventive than in the past, and even though Paranoid Android, a piece he must have played hundreds of times, took him into denser textures (with a hint of autopilot) there was nothing like the almost 20-minute version on his recent Live In Tokyo CD.

That was one of four pieces from this new CD, and it was also notable that, as on this release, he seems to arrive more quickly at the core of the material's improvisational possibilities. The brief, delightful opener, Paul McCartney's Junk, was typical of this; even Thelonious Monk's Think Of One and Monk's Mood didn't tempt him into verbosity, nor did the juxtaposition of Jobim's Zingaro followed by his own Paris in a dazzling example of interplay between both hands.

Perhaps inevitably, it was the most familiar material that gave the greatest insight into his imaginative vocabulary and the economy with which he used it. A lovely On The Street Where You Live was a prelude to some breathtaking responses to standards later in the programme. Cole Porter is obviously a favourite; a dramatic reading of I Concentrate On You and a brilliantly orchestral From This Moment On - almost a miniature fantasia - showed his affinity with the composer's work.

But perhaps the finest examples of his sensitive insight into standards were two Gershwin pieces. An utterly beautiful, rigorous recasting of Someone To Watch Over Me, with an astonishing coda, was matched by his final encore, How Long Has This Been Going On? - just three choruses, with a hint of "I gets weary" in an oblique quote from Old Man River in the coda. Whether or not the audience got the joke, they loved it. As well they might. Mehldau provided what was expected: a night to remember and treasure.

Tobar Na Scéalta

Siamsa Tíre, Tralee

Patrick Lonergan

Tobar Na Scéalta, or The Well Of Stories, blends traditional and contemporary forms of Irish culture, creating a vigorous musical tribute to the Kerryman newspaper, which celebrates its centenary this year. The show takes stories from the paper's archives, using song, dance, video and storytelling to enact them. With 10 musicians and a company of more than 30 singers and dancers, this is an ambitious undertaking, particularly given that

only one person, Michael Scott, is responsible for script, music and direction.

The show considers the relationship between folk tradition and popular culture, convincingly mixing the two. Tableaux blend with photomontage, video recordings with naturalistic performances, traditional music with contemporary movement, Gaelic football with traditional dance. This encounter works most memorably in a lively scene set in the Kerryman's printing works: the clatter of typewriter keys becomes the tapping of a traditional dance step, while the bodies of dancers merge with the movements of a printing press. Less successful is the show's opener and encore, a performance of Ding Dong Didero played to a techno beat. It's an interesting combination, but the music is a derivative version of a style that was explored by bands such as The Prodigy and Orbital more than a decade ago; ironically, the contemporary element of this sequence sounds dated. That said, there is a delightful interplay here between traditional dancing and dance moves that are most likely to be seen on MTV.

The show works best as a celebration of Kerry life during the 20th century. From the pages of the Kerryman we learn about the arrest of Roger Casement and the passage of immigrants to and from the county. We witness many aspects of local life, from dressing for Mass to GAA finals and the Rose of Tralee festival. And we get an important scene about the Kerry babies case, which is handled with unflinching integrity. Tobar Na Scéalta illustrates the ability of the local press to act as a community's "well of stories" while, as drama, expanding the boundaries of folk theatre.

Run concluded