A selection of  classical and contemporary musical events are reviewed by Irish Times writers.

RTÉ Philharmonic Choir RTÉ NSO/Markson NCH, Dublin

Michael Dungan

Stravinsky - Pulcinella Suite Tchaikovsky - Francesca da Rimini

Liszt - Dante Symphony

Two different musical responses to the drama of Dante's Divine Comedy formed the core of a bold and rewarding concert programme given by the RTÉ National Symphony Orchestra and principal conductor Gerhard Markson on Friday night.

Neither Liszt's Dante Symphony nor even Tchaikovsky's Inferno-based tone poem Francesca da Rimini is often performed here. Hearing them together - even though both are full-blown romantic works for huge forces - pointed up interesting differences of approach by the two composers.

Tchaikovsky, who had considered an operatic setting of Dante's tale about the infernal price of adultery, sounds operatic. Markson took the depiction of hell at face value, unleashing a kind of dramatic terror - arresting even if stagey - not really present in the Liszt.

An operatic feel continues in the sad, contrasting central section that represents Francesca's reflections on human frailty, with aria-like passages featuring Deborah Clifford's sensitive solos on cor anglais.

Liszt's approach seems more like a personal response, his version of hell sounding deeper and crueler, somehow more disturbingly credible.

The second movement's representation of Purgatorio, although comforting after the Inferno, provides more than mere musical contrast. It is a tantalising stream of interwoven ideas, all carefully presented by Markson and his players; but tantalising, because what exactly Liszt means is never obvious.

The women of the RTÉ Philharmonic Choir summoned a celestial sweetness for the short Magnificat that closes the symphony.

The orchestra continued its season-long exploration of Stravinsky with the suite from his 1920 ballet Pulcinella. Coming just seven years after the earthiness and notoriety of The Rite of Spring, Pulcinella signalled a new departure for the composer who tinkered affectionately with music by Pergolesi and other baroque composers to produce his neo-18th-century score. Markson scaled back his string section to around 20 players and drew an intimate, detailed performance well suited to the peculiar emotional warmth that makes this little suite a real gem.

Rooster Temple Bar Music Centre

Peter Crawley

Last week, the Year of the Rooster began. You just can't buy that kind of publicity. But then this London rock band are already familiar with good fortune: Just days before the release of their eponymous debut album, Rooster's guitar-slinging rivals, Busted, split up dramatically - clearing a path to the hearts and minds of teenage girls.

Rooster, however, want to be taken seriously. "It's Saturday night!" bellows Nick Atkinson, with that age-old rock 'n' roll attitude that suggests things are going to get very rowdy.

But, despite his best efforts, the concert feels more like Saturday morning television.

While the bar is restricted to minerals only, an inexplicably peppy (but explicably shrill) audience edge so easily towards screaming hysteria, one might blame it on a collective sugar buzz.

Rooster stoke this excitement with a mixture of crunch and syrup; cranking out the young, dumb, Aerosmith and Lenny Kravitz-derived riffs of On the Road, Joy Ride and Come Get Some over Atkinson's lovelorn lyrics: "That look is in your eyes, you blew his mind, his heart is breaking but he won't let you know. . ." It's the sound of a chainsaw shredding through a Valentine's card.

"Does anyone here know Cream?" asks Atkinson after one ill-advised cover of Sunshine of Your Love, and two hands actually shoot up, as though this is history class in the school of rock. And in a way it is. Rooster, a defiantly "proper" band who write their own songs, play their own instruments and indulge in mild swearing, valiantly place themselves within rock's rebellious procession. But unless they distinguish themselves from their influences, Rooster may simply remain a starter's kit for rock's early risers - one that will be quickly outgrown.