Before 1959 the Trinity Ball was a hotel-bound affair, happening simultaneously in the likes of the old Hibernian, on Dawson Street and Jury's on Dame Street. Veteran secretary of the Trinity Ball Committee, Joseph O'Gorman describes it as a "Hooray Henry type of affair organised by the athletics people". It is questionable how much the event's personality has changed since it was housed inside the college grounds but the format has changed radically. One of O'Gorman's best Ball memories is from his own tenure on the Ball Committee in 1989, when his night followed the traditional template of "pre-drinks in rooms, the ball itself, a champagne breakfast, Bewley's, getting kicked out of The Bailey at eleven thirty in the morning for singing Locuseste, lunch in The Stag's Head; returning to college to watch a cricket match from The Pavilion and on to a club that Saturday night". In his 15 years' experience, the "build-up and the acts on the night are important", but he adds philosophically that "most of the people who talked about what acts they intended seeing generally spent the evening doing something altogether different".
Catriona Ward is also a former member of a Ball Committee. For her, the ball was always "work, hassle and insurance". Her evening would begin with the traditional Ball Committee dinner in Nico's on Dame Street. This was followed by the Chairman's Reception, where she looked after the invited guests. While the committee always had a base in college - this was the mid-1980s and mobile phones hadn't filtered down to student level - communication was through "huge walkie talkies which looked primitive and felt like bricks". Her particular memories include the night when rappers Public Enemy took to the stage in full combat dress, wielding guns and completely misinterpreting the crowd's view of the Northern political situation. Dave McWilliams, presenter of TV3's Agenda, also recalls Public Enemy doing their "fight the power thing". He recalls trying to empathise "for about 20 seconds, before looking around at the well-heeled, middle-class graduates and wondering `are we not the power?' "
Hugh Murray was ENTs officer in 1992 and 1993. When organising the ball he would make the initial approaches to agents in October, to find out what acts would be touring in May. The "real work starts post Christmas, when you'd get your budget, which was never enough," he says. "I came in after the 400th anniversary - an absolute headache, it was far too big." He always saw the Trinity Ball as a ball rather than a gig. "I didn't look for bands that appealed to a minority in Trinity - a ball is meant to be a lot of fun. We put Bad Manners on, they were perfect."
As well as jazz stages and an Irish-act stage, Murray sought out a DJ collective, who built a visual side into their performance, to play the Campanile - this meant revellers were greeted with an audio-visual show as they entered the grounds. He even organised entertainment, in the form of a 30-piece percussion band, to raise spirits among ball-goers queueing in the rain to gain entrance. Gatecrashing, stamina and sex are three major components of the Trinity Ball. While they give the Ball a certain colour, there are some moments ENTs officers would prefer to forget. In 1997 two gatecrashers came in through a window from the Provost's Garden and landed on top of singer-songwriter David Gray, who was so disgusted by their intrusion that he joined the security guards in their attempt to apprehend the offenders. One got away to bore drinkers with the story for the rest of his life. There were other glitches - in Murray's time the band Dodgy pulled out of the event the week before. Ian Wilson, now a 2FM producer, had the nightmare scenario of "all the visiting bands cancelling because of the bombs in Dublin in 1974". Last year, someone spent the night in a skip and was on the verge of being dumped out during clean-up. Some years ago a couple were spotted having sex on the Henry Moore sculpture - taking the Kama Sutra to new levels. Nowadays, and as a result of the economic boom, Murray believes there is "more choice outside the gates of Trinity". Despite this, he still sees it as "a big event".
"The great thing about when I was in college was that the ball was booked by students - that students professionally ran a large gig and dealt with agents without any outside involvement." It was his first experience of dealing with the music industry. After college he promoted the Mean Fiddler before joining Sony Music as an A&R man.
The Trinity Ball has had a chequered history in recent times, cancelled in both 1995 and 1996 - many say due to a lack of interest. As a result of rising insurance costs the event has been consolidated - there are only four arenas this year. The Arts Block is now closed on the night. Restrictions on college residents have been tightened also. The event now costs almost £250,000 to stage and the organisers will break even only if they sell out. It has to compete for acts with other events such as last weekend's Heineken Green Energy Festival and Homelands, Creamfields and Witnness. Primal Scream and Leftfield, who played Homelands, would have been on current ENTs officer Declan Forde's original list of requests. This year sees Tindersticks headline with the Wannadies, Elastica and JJ72 all playing the main tent. Trevor Nelson of MTV's The Lick heads up the dance tent. Other acts include Stevie G of Brown Sugar, Bass Odyssey, Nitin Sawnhey and To Rococco Rot. Forde believes he is rebuilding the brand-name that was the Ball 10 years ago, when it had a reputation. While many acts dislike playing student events - a "fear of apathy" as Forde puts it - the Trinity Ball is the exception to that rule and has built up quite a reputation in band lore.
"The Trinity Ball can showcase a lot of talent. People coming to the Ball may not have heard of all the acts but can reminisce in years to come" - the Dandelion Market School of Recall - whether it be Les Rythmes Digitales or David Gray in 1999 or previous main players such as The Clash, The Smiths, The Cure, The Prodigy or Laurent Garnier's earlier "live" sets.
Because of the endurance aspect of the event, it was always considered savvy not to get too dressed up. Catriona Ward recalls a Betsey Johnson tutu she wore in 1985, the year her whole gang went, in their ballgowns, straight from the Trinity to the RDS for Self Aid. Dave McWilliams's recollections may be "a sea of cleavage and profiteroles" but the general perception is that in the past five years, the dress code had relaxed. Last year, according to Forde, it was "quite strict, but people who turned up in jeans and trainers did get in". This year, the dress code is strictly black-tie although Forde recommends wearing an old pair of shoes you won't mind losing, and bringing trainers in a bag. He expects most of the girls will make an effort and wear ballgowns. The gates open at 10 p.m. The entertainment finishes at 5 a.m. with an hour to kill before the early houses open. This time is best spent making new friends.
It is then customary to line the stomach with a feed in Bewley's followed by a visit to either The Windjammer or Fusion where the race is on to see who can sustain the pace the longest.
The Trinity Ball is on Friday. Tickets are £40 each and are available to Trinity students and graduates: they can be purchased from the Student's Union office in Trinity College
