It's Colin MacIntyre's birthday, and the young Scotsman is celebrating with an exuberant reading of Barcode Bypass, the organic mini-epic from his band's debut album, Loss.
He's clearly having a good time, karate-chopping his guitar one minute, then nipping across the stage to twist some bendy, space-age notes out of his synthesizer. "Where's the best place in Dublin to get trashed?" he asks the crowd at the Temple Bar Music Centre, then laughs at the obvious answer: "Anywhere!"
Mull Historical Society are shaking off the cobwebs with a short jaunt around the British Isles, in support of their new album, Us, but judging by the somewhat select crowd not everyone in popland has caught the infectious joie de vivre which positively drips out of every song. Perhaps it's that the songs sound just a smidge too out of time and out of step, maybe it's their almost childlike openness, or maybe it's their slightly twitchy delivery, but Mull Historical Society remain a relatively small cottage industry, and watching them feels a bit like indulging in a far-too-innocent pleasure from the past, like digging out your old Bluebells records or involuntarily humming an ancient Christmas song.
Growing up on the isolated isle of Mull has plainly helped young MacIntyre avoid the overblown angst and studied cynicism of other Brit-rockers. It has also made him endearingly unselfconscious, able to grin, bare his soul and look the audience in the eye all at the same time. Sometimes he reminds you of Chris Martin's younger, even-more-excitable brother, but as he delivers such chiming, celebratory pop songs as The Final Arrears, Am I Wrong, Gravity, Animal Cannabus and The Supermarket Strikes Back, you wonder why there aren't 5,000 Coldplay fans singing along to MacIntyre's naïve melodies. - Kevin Courtney
The Tycho Brahe
Whelan's
Linking contemporary indie-pop to renaissance theories of planetary motion by way of 1970s heavy metal and the inspirational lessons of Rocky III, The Tycho Brahe make an intriguing live proposition.
Wily, unpredictable, fiercely talented and slightly skewed, the group's much-lauded début flitted from electronica-laced pop to instrumental études and clamouring hip-hop. So how would it work on the stage? The answer, perhaps unsurprisingly, was engagingly but often uneasily.
Singer Carol Keogh stands before a jam-packed attendance as a touching embodiment of the conflict.
Although assured in her spry, affecting vocals, Keogh's favoured stance is that of a reluctant pupil forced to address a classroom: hands clasped behind her back, studying her shoes between the lyrics.
A core trio augmented to a six-piece, the group are similarly cautious, but their blend of tolling guitars, blushing cello and wavering double bass never stumbles. Only a miscued CD player makes for an unreliable performer.
Metronomic guitars tick through the disenchanted Dublin city narrative of Spike and the Wheel. "This is not Sex and the City," sings Keogh airily, "It's just loneliness in high-heels", before her voice drifts woozily through The Internal Life of Animals.
An enthralling Listless wraps stealthy live percussion around heavily treated pre-recorded beats, before its wandering vocal melody is strafed by Diarmuid MacDiarmada's abusive guitar. The immediate salve, Tycho Brahe is soft and seductive, yet preserves the group's aloofness. It's a detachment which the audience - attentive and motionless - seem to share.
Keogh isn't joking when she notes that the biggest cheer greets the pummelling novelty of Eye of the Tiger. Closing with equally approved cover Don't Fear The Reaper, it's a shame that the mutual self-consciousness couldn't thaw earlier, allowing the eccentric Hooga Chaka or the simply beguiling Your House From Mine to receive the unfettered acclaim they really deserved. - Peter Crawley
Sanabras, Purcell Quartet
Coach House, Dublin Castle
Buy your tickets now. Music Network's tour by the Purcell Quartet offers a gem among concerts on historical instruments. And on voice too, for the Spanish singer Clara Sanabras persuades you that the music really did sound like this. The Purcell Quartet's two violinists, harpsichordist and string continuo player have been working together for around 20 years; and their experience shows.
In a well-designed programme of Spanish and Italian music composed between 1550 and 1730, the quartet captured a quality prized in those times, and difficult for 21st century musicians - an impression of inspired improvisation. They achieve this partly because their priorities are impeccable. Unanimity of gesture is more important than precision of ensemble, rhythmic flexibility more important than motoric drive, and music-making is shaped not by the printed score, but by a four-way discourse of discovery.
Although Clara Sanabras has a light voice with little vibrato, it is full of subtle, suggestive passion. It was perfect for the well-mannered intensity of Scarlatti's chamber cantata Correa nel seno amato and for the Hasse aria Per questo dolce amplesso, which was made famous by the castrato superstar Farinelli.
Listening to this music made one understand why contemporary audiences were so excited by it. A sonata by Dario Castello showed this early 17th century Italian revelling in the newly discovered possibilities of instrumental virtuosity, and Vivaldi's sonata La folia, in which the four players were joined by Clara Sanabras on guitar continuo, was an astonishing display of instrumental panache and compositional flair.
The Spanish music showed that although Italy was the dominant artistic nation, it had no monopoly. Arias composed around 1700 by Antonio de Literes turned out to be real treasures, with music perfectly designed for the pastoral poetry. And when Sanabras sings, poetry comes to life.
Tours to Derry tonight and Armagh tomorrow. For details tel: 01 671 9429 - Martin Adams
