Nick Kelly and American Music Club at Whelan's
Nick Kelly
Whelan's, Dublin
With echoes of Suzanne Vega's paper-thin fragility, and hovering somewhere around Beth Orton's magnetic vocal field, Nick Kelly's special guest, Ann Scott, brought a highly original repertoire to the cosy confines of the upstairs venue at Whelan's, where neither greasy tills nor noisy bar-stool conversations interfered with a gorgeously intimate night of music.
Scott's use of cello and violin, often jousting in defiant dissonance with her vocals and guitar, proved an ideal backdrop to Resurrection Song and Jealousy, where lust and caution in equal parts wrestled for control. This was a beguiling snapshot of a musician in thrall to her music but not her ego.
Nick Kelly inaugurated a five-night residency with an eclectic mix of "new songs", some of which (such as Arthur Ashe) he admitted had been in gestation for 15 years. His unabashed nervousness at showcasing such a welter of original material was endearing, and his abortive attempts to air "a happy song" were comical.
This was an evening when Kelly delivered some razor-sharp insights into life's more curious moments but occasionally veered way off course with a few muzzy ideas too.The peek he allowed us into his world was fascinating nonetheless.
Keeping Our Untidiness Alive (co-written with Beautiful South's Briana Corrigan) caught with pinprick precision the inherent messiness of relationships which rarely gets airtime in plastic pop. Kingfisher Blue started out with echoes of John Cale in its piano introduction, only to soar skywards as it gloried in the reflections that occur during the physical repetitions of a hobby, which in Kelly's world is running.
Kelly's darker side was never far from reach, and even a song with Happiness as its title couldn't help swinging between breezy pop and needling existentialism.
He aired a handful of songs from his alter ego, Alien Envoy, but ultimately it was Kelly's own voice that struck the most authentic notes. This was a compelling start to a residency that promises an entirely different set each night.
SIOBHÁN LONG
****
American Music Club
Whelan's, Dublin
Shedding the over-production that occasionally taints their records, in a live setting American Music Club are the perfect pub-rock band, with Mark Eitzel their bewitchingly flawed leader.
Still relatively unknown, yet critically admired, the second show on the five-piece band's European tour succeeded through the strength of the songs on display, even if the singer's fractured ego all too often tended to distract.
Going by the age profile among the mostly male fans, American Music Club have maintained a devoted cult following since the band's 1983 inception. Returning after a 10-year sabbatical in 2004, they have continued where they left off with two albums of supreme quality.
Eitzel, with his wonderful beer-soaked croon, was the star attraction. Attired in a trilby and torn jacket and - unusually - guitar-less, the band's linchpin resembled a more rotund Estragon. Indeed, the subject matter of his songs is quite Beckettian, as Eitzel is a songwriter who lives in his head. Hell-bent on repeating the same mistakes, he punishes himself by painstakingly analysing each and every one of them and candidly presents them to his audience through his writing.
Incessantly self-deprecating and surprisingly awkward, Eitzel consistently belittled the songs. Hence the star-crossed All My Love was reduced to a story about "gross narcissism and fear" and his self-description boiled down to "this fat old f**ker in a stupid hat".
If Eitzel's damaged personality is designed to alienate the crowd, in reality it only served to endear him further to them. It helps that the songs are so good. The country-influenced Gary's Song is a hilarious drinking anthem, but If I Had A Hammer oozes a sweet vulnerability.
The renditions of the achingly gorgeous Nightwatchman and the heartrending Home were masterful, with the band finally allowed to provide some weight to the sound.
Frustratingly, Eitzel appeared fixated with the length of the set: he was anxious to get finished, while the crowd wanted more. As it was, we got Windows on The World, a metaphorically rich treatment of post-9/11 America and a song that deserves to be heard by the widest possible audience. It won't be, of course, but his under-appreciated, underdog status is what Mark Eitzel will continue to thrive upon.
BRIAN KEANE
