A look at what is happening in the world of the arts.
Bob Dylan at the Point
On a weekend when the world recalled in sadness the genius of one Sixties icon, it was interesting to contrast how another has managed to navigate the choppy waters of hero worship.
Many years ago Bob Dylan realised that he was condemned to revisit his glorious past every night of his Never-Ending tour.
Just like those grainy images of George Best weaving his way into legend have run and run, Dylan was fated to relive Like A Rolling Stone, Blowin' in the Wind and any other number of his classic back pages. But typical of the man he opted to do it on his own terms.
Saturday night in the Point, the first of two sold-out shows there that mark the end of his current European tour, was typical of how Dylan controls the dials on nostalgia and maintains his mystery and allure - even in a year of major documentaries and memoirs, he has never had a higher profile.
To paraphrase one of his great lyrics, he knows what the audience wants but he gives them what they need, just about. As such, many of the classic songs were there, albeit cloaked in new and obscure arrangements.
Maggie's Farm opened proceedings shortly after 8pm - the 64-year-old is obviously keeping more civilised hours these days - with his excellent five-piece band, expertly marshalled as ever by bassist Tony Garnier, giving it a thorough going-over.
Dylan can never be accused of being humourless as he and his band looked very dapper with the star in his exotic Mexicana costume and the band in fawn suits.
Another notable aspect was the fact that Dylan stood playing keyboards throughout the 100- minute show, though what they sounded like was anybody's guess so far were they down in the mix.
He also offered a number of harmonica blasts which predictably ignited an emotional charge in the audience.
The set-list featured songs mainly from the classic back catalogue. Watching the River Flow, Lay Lady Lay, Shelter From the Storm, a storming Highway 61 Revisited and You Go Your Way and an oblique version of Memphis Blues Again.
The styles employed stretched across a wide canvas including lounge, western swing, blues, even jazz, but predominantly the band rocks.
And with an elegant and fluent lead guitarist such as Stu Kimball, they brew up a very impressive sound.
It was one of those nights when after an initial blast, the music settled down to an interesting if average show, really only coming alive for the audience at the end with a blistering Like A Rolling Stone and All Along the Watchtower, Dylan's croak of a voice spitting out the lyrics with vintage venom.
Then they stood together onstage with the frail star offering an unlikely two thumbs up to the thunderous applause. So ended another night in another town on the Never-Ending tour. Joe Breen
Opera Gala at the National Concert Hall
What is there left to say about Paolo Gavanelli? The Italian baritone, whose appearance on Friday was his fourth here in 3½ years, was every bit as impressive as the three previous occasions.
As before, he proved himself to be a master of vocal colouring, dynamic control, linear consciousness, well-articulated turns, imaginative phrasing and spot-on intonation.
He is one of those artists who can assume the personality of the character portrayed in short bursts and without benefit of costume or make-up.
In a programme of mainly Verdi excerpts we were given convincing miniature portraits of the lust of Luna, the rage and pathos of Rigoletto, the dignity of the dying Posa, the insidious villainy of Iago and so on.
We also got suave accounts of arias from Donizetti's Roberto Devereux and Bellini's Puritani as well as a delightful almost-in- English encore of Wallace's In happy moments.
David Rendall is another singer with a good sense of line, phrasing and vocal colouration.
His once lyrical voice has now developed into an impressive spinto, but the English tenor, who was standing in at short notice for the originally announced artist, suffered throughout from a losing battle with intonation.
In arias and duets from Aida, Simon Boccanegra, Forza del destino, Otello and Tosca, his lusty high As and Bs rang out splendidly in tune, but elsewhere he sang frequently under the note.
Colman Pearce and the Pro Arte Orchestra supported the singers admirably. They also performed three purely orchestral pieces: a bouncy pot- pourri from La belle Hélène, a moving Traviata prelude and a well-paced William Tell overture. John Allen
The Irish Consort at Ardee Castle, Co Louth
The second evening concert of the three-day festival Ardee Baroque was given by The Irish Consort.
Its members are Siobhán Armstrong, an authority and player on historical harps; John Elwes, tenor; bass viol player Reiko Ichise, and sean-nós singer Róisín Elsaferty.
One of this concert's strengths was that it showed how close differing musical traditions can be in reality.
One revelation was listening to Elwes singing early Irish sacred songs accompanied by wire- strung harp, and to Elsaferty's agile and profoundly expressive singing of sean-nós songs.
This was my first and startling experience of Elsaferty - a real artist whose voice brims with alluring, dusky sensuousness.
Another strength was the blend of seriousness and humour.
The traditional Irish Cailín ó Chois tSiúire Mé became popular in 16th-century England as Callino Casturamé. Sounds exotic, Italian even.
When Byrd's variations on it were played on bass viol and the continental type of chromatic harp, the arpa doppia, the players showed equal relish for the attractiveness of the tune and for the virtuosity of Byrd's figuration.
Speaking of virtuosity, Reiko Ichise played Simpson's division piece, A ground in e, with a flair that brought the house down.
There were several instrumental works that, originating as traditional Irish tunes, found their way into Playford's publication The Dancing Master.
From England there were songs of the kind that would have travelled to Ireland with musicians who had been to London.
Sung with declamatory passion by Elwes, with continuo support from harp and bass viol, these included Lawes's famous setting of Gather Ye Rosebuds and Lanier's perfect little gem No More Shall Meads.
All this music might be old, but sung and played with such vividness and such alertness to the poetry, it sounded startlingly up-to-date. Martin Adams
The Bravery at the Ambassador, Dublin
Pop music is cruel. As the restless cycle of hype and backlash spins ever quicker, few groups have experienced its sting more sharply than The Bravery, a group that began the year as tomorrow's sensations and may end it as yesterday's news.
Encouragingly, though, their rousing performance in the Ambassador suggests that New York's new wave revivalists are not going down without a fight.
Charging across each other, in the way the crew of Star Trek used to do when under attack, singer Sam Endicott, guitarist Michael Zakarin and bassist Mike H might be re-enacting the turbulence of their year.
The high-energy attack pays off and Swollen Summer sets an engaging and defiant pace. Critics of the group may still hear the bouncing bass of No Breaks or sheeny synth of Out of Line and complain that The Bravery mercilessly steal from Duran Duran.
This is short-sighted, however, overlooking how much they mercilessly steal from The Cure and New Order.
The pick 'n' mix 1980s combinations feel more natural on Public Service Announcement, which makes a bounding disco chorus ("Stop, drop and roll") from an American pre-school safety instruction.
"I suppose we have a lot of burning kids in America," muses Endicott.
Having recently shorn off his trademark quiff - further ammunition for those who question The Bravery's stylistic commitment - the square- framed Endicott shows signs of a steelier resolve.
Their best song and biggest hit, An Honest Mistake, comes halfway through the set, all elastic rhythm, histrionic vocals and disco strut.
It's a risky move, leaving them to prove that there's still gas in the tank.
They almost succeed. Rites of Spring, Unconditional and Fearless sound more assuredand urgent than on record, but the chorus of Angelina, a new song, resonates clearer: "The only thing I've ever known is nothing here is set in stone."
That sounds like pop all right. And for The Bravery that admission takes guts. Peter Crawley
