Mr Friday, we presume

Back when he fronted mascara-spattered rock "shockers" Virgin Prunes - a troupe of avant-garde pretenders whose plot to bring…

Back when he fronted mascara-spattered rock "shockers" Virgin Prunes - a troupe of avant-garde pretenders whose plot to bring wilting Catholic Ireland to its knees by prancing around the Baggot Inn in floral skirts never quite came together - gender flirt Gavin Friday was chiefly famous (well, some Hot Press readers knew who he was) for looking a bit like old school pal Bono tarted up in lipstick.

Since then, of course, Gav's gone and become all successful on us. He is much in demand as a soundtrack composer following his work on Peter Sheridan's In the Name of the Father. So it was heartening to see that the formerly bellicose art terrorist has retained a sense of perspective. Friday is the driving force behind the Artists for Kosovo fund-raising project unveiled at Temple Bar's Meeting House Square on Monday night.

The stark message that Kosovo's people continue to suffer was unflinchingly emphasised. A video projection of bleak artwork interlaced with schoolchildren's visual interpretations of the Balkan holocaust shifted uneasily atop a taut, edgy soundtrack scored by Friday and long-time musical conspirer Maurice Seezer. The rumbling clatter - think Massive Attack on one hell of a comedown - provided a tantalising, if not exactly breezy, teaser for the duo's forthcoming project.

Friday and Seezer were off to the studio the very next day to start on a new album, their first since critically lauded but commercially underwhelming Shag Tobacco. Legendary contemporary fiddle player Martin Hayes, hailing from Clare and resident in Seattle for years, is pencilled in as collaborator. This being a Temple Bar opening, a lurid glob of post-surrealist artwork was obligatory. Token genre-redefining eye candy for the night came in the shape of Muc, a hulking eight-foot winged piggy-bank grimly fashioned from wrought iron. Tipperary designer Laurent Mellet, responsible for Senitaph, the stacked tractor exhibit that graced the area earlier this year, was on hand, chinwagging with a coterie of admirers including graphic designer Peter Reddy, whose Redman AKA company produces those stunning fliers for the PoD and Kitchen nightclubs, and adult rock chinstroker John Kelly, kitted out in what could be termed a denim jumpsuit. Artists for Kosovo director Aileen Corkery was on hand to tell us about plans to send Muc the pig on tour. He's off the Slane next month. We wonder what professional cheekie chappy Robbie Williams will make of it.

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Loads of arts people trotted along. The Ark boss Clodagh O'Brien brought along 20 Kosovan children who were evacuated to Co Kildare. Dublin artist Clea Van der Grijn revealed plans to take some time out now that she's finished working on paintings for Hugh O'Regan's Morrison Hotel project, and join film-maker husband Paddy Jolley in New York where he is close to completing a new short, The Drowning Room. It's a sequel to Seven Days 'Til Sunday, which this year became the first Irish feature to premiere at Robert Redford's Sundance Film Festival. Photographer Perry Ogden was upbeat following the successful auctioning, at New York's swish Tony Shafrozi gallery, of pictures from his unsettling Pony Kids collection.

Also out for a natter was impresario Harry Crosbie, still intent on developing the Point Theatre into a docklands retail wonderland, and Gavin Friday's old Virgin Prune mucker, Guggi, who brought along wife Sitaylle and all 11 kids. Playwright Frank McGuinness showed his face - if he was suffering any last minute nerves ahead of the autumn debut of his new Abbey work, he didn't let on.

Being a Gavin Friday-tinged event, we all hoped some of the U2 lads might show up. Not to be, alas - we made do with Trevor Bowen from Paul McGuinness's Principle Management, and poor old Sebastian Clay- ton, a respected web page designer who suffered the ignominy of being referred to as "Adam's brother" all night but had the good grace to grin and bear our fleeting stares.