Reviews

Irish Times critics give their verdicts.

John O'Conor (piano), National Concert Hall, Dublin

Beethoven - Sonatas Op 13 in C minor, Op 14 No 1 in E, Op 14 No 2 in G, Op 49 No 1 in G minor, Op 49 No 2 in G, Op 22 in B flat

It is increasingly unfashionable to describe Beethoven's music in terms of early, middle and late periods, and with good reason. But, listening to John O'Conor during the third recital in his series devoted to Beethoven's piano sonatas, it was difficult to resist the impression that at least two of the "early" works on the programme include new and startlingly original things.

The composer was 30 when he completed the Sonata in B flat Op 22. It does not challenge the formal concepts of sonata, as the two works in Op 27 (including the Moonlight) were to do a year later. It stretches possibilities, however, as in the last movement, which, although in the rondo-grazioso style, includes astonishing touches that rub against the grain of the style's decorative origins.

O'Conor's playing of that movement embraced gracefulness and forcefulness. After the elegant, impeccably melodic main theme he pitched into the fugal writing of one of the episodes with a vigour that highlighted the startling purpose behind this contrast of texture and technique.

That connected approach to contrast was a constant component in his long-line view of these sonatas. In this work and the other mould-breaker, the Sonata in C minor Op 13 (Pathétique), the drama of the moment was evident, yet it was as a contributor to the big picture. That concentration on wholeness was combined with some striking flexibility with tempos, as in the last movement of the Sonata in E Op 14 No 1, and with a grip on the character of each movement. It said much about this recital that, in the Sonata in G Op 14 No 2, a profound kind of teasing with time produced a burst of applause at the end of the quiet middle movement. - Martin Adams

Series continues on January 31st

Jack And The Beanstalk, Grand Opera House, Belfast

There is a shift of tone, treatment and content about this year's jaunty Grand Opera House production. Out goes the high camp of past times - the star names, the end-of-the-pier turns, the cheesy smiles and the glitzy sets and costumes - and in comes a somewhat more brisk but traditional retelling of the old folk tale.

Erstwhile Royal Shakespeare Company director Jonathan Best has crafted a nicely rounded piece of entertainment, mercifully free of needless gimmickry and distractions. Some of the staging, though subject to a few technical hitches on the third night of the run, is outstanding, not least a hair-raising car dash through the streets and shops of Belfast and a surreal encounter between tiny humans and the outsized monster in his leafy lair.

The clash of good and evil is personified by Aly McInnes's glossy Fairy Daffodil, who does battle with the sadistic Fleshcreep of Wayne Fitzsimmons. Mayhem cleverly aimed at adults and children alike is delivered by the daft trio of Paddy Jenkins's sprightly King Crumble, William Caulfield's overgrown schoolboy Simon and May McFettridge's salty-tongued, black-toothed Dame May Trot.

Sadly, a throat infection severely hampered the full extent of local girl Charlotte McCurry's beautiful voice in the role of Princess Apricot, for which she beat off the challenge of hundreds of other hopefuls. But the star attraction is the former Neighbours swoon Dan Paris as an affable, tongue-in-cheek Jack, who more than makes up for what he lacks in the singing and dancing departments with a few flashes of the pecs and a nicely roguish grin. - Jane Coyle

Runs until January 22nd

Sons & Daughters, Whelan's, Dublin

Joey Ramone and Patti Smith went on a vacation in Scotland with Johnny Cash and Loretta Lynn, and Sons & Daughters are the result. A countrified punk quartet with a folk leaning and a hard-core edge, S&D's gigs are blitzed-out barn dances. With their two-boy-two-girl line-up they could be My Bloody Valentine down from the mountains, but this Glasgow gang eschews the droning, shoe-gazing sound for a raucous, stiletto-stomping, sexually-charged rumble.

Sons & Daughters hail from the capital of post-rock, but they've moved on to further frontiers, passing Nick Cave's murder ballads and The Jayhawks' country jive along the way.

Singer Adele Bethel moves from a whisper to a screech with supple ease, letting her body twirl snakelike around the stage; singer-guitarist Scott Paterson, on the other hand, stands coiled like a cobra, staring intently ahead while chopping out the guitar riffs and throaty vocals. Neither has a remarkable voice, but when they bounce them off each other there's a sparkle.

Sons and Daughters? Doctors and Nurses, more like. They might sound like kids playing prairie games right now, but S&D could well mature into true rock 'n' roll mavericks. - Kevin Courtney.