Reviews

Peter Crawley reviews Elton John at the RDS in Dublin. Tony Clayton-Lea reviews Martha Wainwright at The Village, Dublin. Andrew Johnstone reviews O'Sullivan, Summers, RTÉ NSO/Anissimov at NCH and David Russell at the Bank of Ireland Arts Centre, both in Dublin.

Elton John,

RDS, Dublin

"It's great to be here. It's been quite a day so far," announces Sir Elton John, a man who had earlier stormed through a three-song appearance at Live 8 in Hyde Park and then - boom! - just five hours later is crashing through the chords and scudding beats of Pinball Wizard in the RDS.

OK, it may not be up there with Phil Collins's transatlantic hop from Wembley to Philadelphia 20 years ago, but, hey, all drama is appreciated.

His reputation for flamboyance and general outrageousness may precede him, but this time Sir Elton leaves most theatrics to his lapidary back catalogue. A single, punched piano chord and you know where you are; his fingers dancing over the staccato theme of Bennie and the Jets.

There's barely any let-up in a tumble of classics: Daniel, Rocket Man, I Guess That's Why they Call it the Blues and a lilting Sacrifice mine such a rich seam in sing-along melancholy.

Though suffused by the mandatory gravitas of the day, Sir Elton could never wallow in sad songs (certainly not in a sprightly Sad Songs), sonorously performing the anthemic Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me before a giant pixelated sunset, then detonating I'm Still Standing and The Bitch is Back in glitzy bursts.

Anyone whose set list can comfortably ignore the biggest selling single of all time (Candle in the Wind) and this week's number one (an admittedly trickier collaboration with Tupac Shakur) has a place in the annals of pop that just seems unfair.

But hearing Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting, Crocodile Rock and Your Song back to back can send an electricity storm through your brain.

Martha Wainwright

The Village, Dublin

You would have thought that we'd be fed up with the Wainwright clan by now, seeing as most of them have paid us a visit over the past few months. Loudon Wainwright III has fathered not only Rufus - whose grandiose, literate and sublime pop music has rightly made him into something of a star - but also Martha.

If you were expecting Martha to be Dorothy Parker to her brother's Cole Porter, then you would be disappointed. Rather, Martha is whiskey to Rufus's Brandy Alexander; she is down to earth, downright ballsy, likeable and about as sweet as a chilli.

Backed for the most part by a band, and enhanced on a few occasions by backing vocals from support act Johnathan Rice and brother Rufus - in town for a special guest slot at the Elton John gig the following day at the RDS - Martha played songs from her recently released self-titled debut album and some covers. The latter included Leonard Cohen's Tower of Song, and Warren Zevon's I Was in the House When the House Burned Down and good and all though they were it was the original material that made more of an impact.

Her voice lends an air of damaged goods to the material; its occasional strident nature spoiled at least three songs.

When it takes a left turn out of Screechsville, however, the voice is quite amazing; it transports songs such as Far Away, Factory, Ball and Chain and - quite likely the show's highlight - Bloody Mother F****** A******, which despite its deliberately crude title is actually one of the most poignant songs you'll hear this year.

A little bit brassy, bold, and not one to countenance idle chit-chat whilst she's singing, Martha doesn't need her father or brother to help her along the way to becoming a force to be reckoned with.

O'Sullivan, Summers, RTÉ NSO/Anissimov

NCH, Dublin

Though last Friday's concert at the NCH was entitled "A Night at the Opera", it resembled one in name only. At the real opera, you don't get highlights, you experience a whole, rounded drama.

There were thus only glimpses of Verdi's consummate dramaturgy in a first half that dipped into no fewer than seven of his stage works. In a second half that sampled the verismo school, however, the music seemed to survive the transplant from theatre to concert-hall better than his gritty soliloquies and last-minute overtures had done.

Soprano Cara O'Sullivan has lost none of the competitive edge for which she was made RTÉ Musician of the Future 15 years ago. With Verdi she put her astonishing range and power on show with almost off-putting insistency.

Happily, she revealed a gentler, poetic side in O mio babbino caro from Puccini's Gianni Schicchi. And in an encore item, Là ci darem la mano from Mozart's Don Giovanni, she proved an effective partner for Australian baritone Jonathan Summers.

Without plot, scenery or costume, Summers brought true and much-needed stage artistry to the concert platform. In Verdi's Credo in un Dio crudel (from Otello), he characterised Iago superbly, while in Giordano's Nemico della patria? (from Andrea Chénier), his use of a sheet of A4 paper as a simple prop made all the difference.

A symphony orchestra has less time than a theatre orchestra to rehearse the many stops-and-starts and gives-and-takes that opera demands.

The RTÉ NSO faced the task cheerfully, and there was expressive freedom in their playing - particularly among the woodwinds. Yet conductor Alexander Anissimov's informal and often loose gestures meant there were some untidy moments, and had the general effect of scattering rhythmic energy rather than directing it.

David Russell (guitar)

Bank of Ireland Arts Centre, Dublin

The classical strand of Waltons Guitar Festival of Ireland continued on Saturday evening with a recital by David Russell.

It seemed as if he was trying to achieve the impossible when he picked his way through the complex counterpoint of Bach's Wachet auf and Jesu, joy of Man's desiring. Neither the walking bass-lines nor the chorale melodies themselves survived translation to the guitar intact.

But he achieved a much more satisfactory layering of melody and accompaniment in some original compositions by 20th century guitarists Regino Sainz de la Maza, Emilio Pujol and Sergio Assad.

Chords shimmered, snarled, or just bloomed, while a single note could be anything from a muffled chime to a comb-and-paper buzz or a metallic twang.

In Assad's Eli's Portrait particularly, Russell graded these tonal variations with such subtlety that the effect was kaleidoscopic. Appropriately, contrasts were more defined in an eight movement suite by the 17th-century French composer Jacques de Saint-Luc. Here Russell restricted himself to chaste lute tones and delicate ornamentation.

The most effective transcriptions of the evening were Arne Brattland's of seven Lyric Pieces by Grieg - piano poetry that comes off as well on the guitar as any by Albéniz or Granados does. And by playing such northern music on such a southern instrument, Russell was able to fuse the varied instincts of his Scottish birth and Minorcan upbringing.