The Irish Timeswriters review the latest in the world
Tom Waits
Ratcellar Theatre, Phoenix Park, Dublin
Tom Waits ambled on stage more than half-an-hour later than stipulated, but before he had uttered a syllable, he turned the rapturous reception into a standing ovation with the merest upward gesture of his hands, as if the crowd were an army of marionettes dangling on his deftly-controlled strings. This was an audience evidently determined to soak in Waits's renowned showmanship, and for €130 a ticket, who could blame them.
Much had been made of the unprecedented anti-touting measures on this Glitter and Doom tour, requiring ticketholders to come bearing their passports or driver's licences, but in the event the checks were random and most people sauntered past security with no more than cursory eye-contact.
The large tent, or so-called Ratcellar Theatre, was a fitting venue for a performer whose puckish onstage persona is equal parts circus ringmaster and fairground carny. With old public address speakers artfully arranged behind him, and a thick layer of dust on his raised platform that billowed with every dramatic stomp of his feet, the production design echoed the smoky, grizzled atmosphere of his songs.
His own well-worn suit and hat appeared to have aged in unison with his extraordinary voice, with its unmistakable, guttural timbre. It can be a monstrous growl, the stuff of children's nightmares, but while it is his greatest instrument, it is often hard to distinguish his lyrics from the gravelly affectations. Given that Waits is almost as much a storyteller as a songwriter, this is an unfortunate dilemma.
Waits and his excellent band, which includes two of his sons, delivered a generous set exceeding two-and-a-half hours, sprinkled with many of the sparkling classics from his 30-plus year career, particularly when he played his piano solo for a few trademark ballads, including Tom Traubert's Bluesand Innocent When You Dream. There were, however, undeniable longueurs, where the early energy dissipated and the audience's attention began to wander. This first performance was far from the triumphant trilogy that Leonard Cohen delivered in June, for instance, and also fell short of the standards promised by the rave reviews his Edinburgh concerts garnered. But as he stood in the spotlight at the end, with a mirrored top hat reflecting beams of light around the tent, it was possible to rejoice in the Glitter rather than wallow in the Doom.
DAVIN O'DWYER
Oman, RTÉCO/Brophy
NCH, Dublin
The featured singer at an RTÉ lunchtime concert has only a few minutes to create the desired impression, yet in five short numbers soprano Sandra Oman did so with skill.
Arditi's waltz Il bacio(The Kiss) sprang into action with a ready vocal agility that kept wisely within limits at the final cadenza.
Novello's We'll Gather Lilacs, despite a sometimes opaque accompaniment, was charming by dint of tasteful rubato, while the melodic contortions of Balfe's I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls seemed convincingly the work of some more eloquent tunesmith.
Two vignettes from Puccini were poised and affecting, though Oman's concentrated sophistication wasn't quite as well suited to the entreaties of Liù's Signore, ascolta (from Turandot) as it was to Musetta's provocative Quando m'en vo(from La bohème).
That said, for all her tonal brilliance and focused technique, the decisive factor was Oman's expressive and finely modulated manner of directing the performance right at her listeners.
Conductor David Brophy generated a keen atmosphere of tranquil tension in the Puccini items, which made also for a beautifully shaped account of the intermezzo from Leoncavallo's I pagliacci.
The playing wasn't as highly polished in two hoary dances, a brash and blustery España Waltz by Waldteufel, and the clumsily rustic Clog dance by Hérold.
Brophy, however, had staked all on a breakneck charge through Smetana's Bartered Bride Overture, and the risk reaped exciting rewards.
It was possible too, thanks to the flamboyant brogue of AJ Potter's Finnegan's Wake, to carry away the sense of having heard the RTÉ Concert Orchestra at their sparkling best.
ANDREW JOHNSTONE
Kluson, Collins, Panocha String Quartet
NCH, Dublin
Smetana Quartet No 2
Dvorak String Quintet in E flat Op 97. Piano Quintet in A Op 81
The last of the National Concert Hall's Summer Chamber Classics series, programmed by pianist Finghin Collins with each concert focussing on a particular city, visited Prague.
As with the other concerts, Collins allowed himself unusual latitude in choice of repertoire. The String Quintet in E flat by Dvorak, who was not actually a native of Prague, was written in Spillville, Ohio, and premièred at Carnegie Hall, New York.
But, never mind. The programme made complete sense as a selection of music representative of the two most celebrated composers who were based in Prague during the last two decades of the 19th century.
The Panocha Quartet opened with the second of Smetana's two quartets, a piece with has always languished in the shadow of the earlier and famously autobiographical quartet, From My Life.
The later quartet was written under difficult circumstances, against explicit medical advice at the very end of the composer's life, when Smetana, already deaf, chose to continue composing in spite of the obstacles of pain and weakened memory created by his ill-health.
The work has never really won the public's affection, in spite of its many memorable ideas and some forward-looking stylistic gestures. The Panocha's performance had an undemonstrative fluidity that, on this occasion, sounded strangely inconclusive.
They were in altogether finer form in the string quintet with two violas from Dvorak's American years, for which they were joined by viola-player Josef Kluson. There was a particularly strong appeal in their handling of the music-box eccentricity of the Scherzo.
Finghin Collins teamed up with the quartet for Dvorak's Piano Quintet in A, Op. 81, another work in which the composer displays an almost unbounded bonhomie. Collins's playing was a little stiffer and straighter than that of his Czech partners.
But the contrast in musical approach was more piquant than bothersome. The almost casual-seeming stylishness of the quartet's musical manner was a nice foil to Collins's brightness and sparkle.
MICHAEL DERVAN
