Following the briefest of stints as the new kids on the boyband block, thanks to a gaggle of number ones and a promotional schedule that the Spice Girls would have balked at, Westlife quickly established themselves as the biggest thing in pop music (outside of the US, anyway). Back in Dublin touring their latest album, World of Our Own, they have since become an international pop institution, as familiar as an itch and as ubiquitous as gossip.
Westlife
Point, Dublin
So, in the intervening years, have they become pop automatons, with rough edges hewn away and polished till they squeak? Well, yes and no. The term stage managed, so often applied to the boyband phenomenon, couldn't but describe tonight's performance. Timing is everything, as they say, and if any of the fab five missed their cues, they were in danger of failing to vault from beneath the stage or alternatively, drop through trapdoors into its bowels for yet another costume change.
The set is professional - fair dues, though, they were always good singers - even if the songs tread that fine line between crooning blandness and downright soporific. Up-tempos are at a premium for Westlife, probably the reason for a medley of covers including Elvis, Queen, Michael Jackson and, somewhat bizarrely, Van Morrison. Not that it really mattered, though, as the crowd reacted not so much to the songs as to the gestures - pivot, point, turn, etc .
But what took the show beyond its mundane choreography was, well, not quite charisma, but definitely a semblance of personality. All five are affable enough, and were confident in their performances. Mildly-scandalous-but-still-cuddly Brian McFaddon played the loose cannon throughout, veering from the script with asides to the crowd and unchoreographed horseplay It may be just hijinks, but there also seems to be a recognition on the part of all five of the absurdity of the entire phenomenon that is Westlife -and a resistance to it; they comfortably rise above the performing seal tag that so readily applies to so many of their peers. - John Lane
Mundy
Vicar St
He might be a country boy from Birr, Co Offaly, but on Thursday night in Vicar St, Edmund Enright was king of the city. Mundy has worked hard to cultivate his crowd, and they repaid him by packing out the venue for his big Dublin gig. Mundy's music is a plain, unpretentious blend of down-home folk wisdom and wanton rock 'n' roll - we really shouldn't like this sort of thing, but it's just too damn catchy to ignore.
Wearing a cowboy hat and turned-up jeans, Mundy started his set with Rainbow, the opening track on his current album, 24 Star Hotel. If ever an album was made for summer, this one's it. Anchor The Sun, The Last Time and Rescue Remedy were designed for those long, sunny afternoons and warm, balmy nights we can only dream of in rainy old Dublin. Drive may be a bit too redolent of Chris Rea, but Mayday saves the day with driving flair.
In the heat of all these breezy tunes, we'd almost forgotten about Mundy's 1996 debut, Jelly Legs, until he jogged our collective memory with The Stone and Life's A Cinch. Making it easy were guitarist Colm Quearney, bassist Keith Farrell, keyboard player Ger Eaton and drummer Binzer. Welsh-Breton singer Katell Keineg joined in for Healthy and Linchpin, but really, the Birr lad didn't need any vocal assistance. July was the highlight, a simple, almost naive melody magically transformed by a clever acoustic guitar loop.
It may sound suspiciously like a busker's anthem, but this reviewer sang along with the rest of the crowd, happily losing his cool in the warm glow of the chorus. July is the next single, and it's going to bring a blinding ray of sunshine into our dull, trendy lives.
After that, it was just a matter of tidying up with Gin & Tonic Sky and To You I Bestow, the song from the Romeo + Juliet soundtrack. Tomorrow, I'll get back to covering all the earnest, arty rock bands, but tonight I think I'll just smile and be glad to be alive.- Kevin Courtney
