Self-professed purveyors of bass, blips, beeps and beatsNoatakcomprise of three men, some guitars and an arsenal of synthetic sounds. This four track EP is the first release from the trio, and while showing promise feels just that bit too brief to become fully immersive in the trip the band are attempting to bring the listener on. Rounds kicks things off to a bassy trip-hop start, where siren tones wail, Thom Yorke style vocals intone, and electric guitar slashes and glitchy noises all compete.
In the main it’s a dark soundscape that typifies the EP. Vocals and shimmery effects begin Abomination until drums and harsher effects take over at the midway point. Fear, meanwhile, is darker again, gradually becoming an outright bass drum-driven dance track. The airy vocals are a counterpoint to the darkness in the music throughout, and final track Sea Light is lighter in tone than the preceding three. From a nice, simple melody on the vocal, the song eventually breaks down into an electro-orchestra of various vying noises until the singing comes back in, repeating “Sea light fading”…[more]
‘By The Time I Get To Wilmot’ is the début album by Jethro Pickett, one that spans time and space both within its tracks and in a literal sense. Hailing originally from Tasmania, Picket recorded the album at home for the most part, both in Melbourne and in Dublin, but both Pickett and his band call the latter city ‘home’. If the cover and artwork suggest a pastoral and rustic tone, reminiscent of The Band around their eponymous second album, the music supports it, and fleeting glimpses of Dylan, John Prine, andNick Drake float in and out of Pickett’s songs.
It starts well, a folky and personal album leading to the midpoint. Visions Fade sets the mid-tempo pace that typifies proceedings, gospel-like with some nice pedal steel. A heartbeat drum pattern and handclaps drive You Were My Queen gently along, and both here and on album highlight A Tale From The Hills, that irresistible Wurlitzer works its way through the song to fine effect.
She Likes To Dream takes a more experimental approach. An irregular drum pattern variously recedes and thumps gently, the song then solidifying as more conventional rhythms take over, as if emulating the journey of the song’s title character from dream state to reality. Lush harmonies and soaring guitars add flavour, before the band hang back on follower Feels Like Our Path. On this folksy affair they provide unobtrusive and sparing instrumental flourishes over the picked guitar. Similarly, on Dream And Be Safe – short, dramatic and just a bit theatrical – the subtle band embellishments and backing vocals over the guitar elevate it.
The mid-album Revelations (to be proud of) is a bit more up-tempo than the preceding songs, undeniably catchy if a little at odds with the rest of the album. Somewhat cheesy yet memorable with it, it’s an MOR, AOR acronym-fest, and a rare opportunity to hear some backwards flute. Lyrically the album never really breaks out from the standard balladry template of hearts, hands, love and trust, and losing one’s self in trust and love and hand holding and heart pouring and so forth, so it’s something of a surprise when the weighty subject matter of 60 Years Agoarrives at the album’s latter stage. It appears to be a protest song referencing the Korean War, “back when hell rained down”, bridging sixty years from that conflict – and its veterans on all sides – to the present day. It’s also the point where the band stretches impressively out with an extended jam…[more]
Bunnies are synonymous with Easter in much the same way Santa is synonymous with presents, pancakes with Pancake Tuesday and drinking with Good Friday. As is the nature of bunnies, they have multiplied at a staggering rate in various strands of popular culture. Onscreen is no different, but fear not, because we here at Ramp.ie have culled the excess numbers and selected the very best from the ever-expanding populace. We have travailed the inner-cities, the distant past, the imaginary realms, and even the far reaches of outer space to bring this list to you…we even scooped up a few stray hares by mistake.
13. Bucky O’Hare – Bucky O’Hare
In more innocent times, an afternoon spent with Bucky had altogether different connotations than it does today. The early Nineties was a golden age for cartoons, as was the decade previous, with a plethora of fondly remembered classics.
Bucky O’Hare isn’t one of them. It was shit. The theme tune was shit too and that’s half the battle. Would anyone have given Captain Planet the time of day if his theme tune hadn’t ruled? Or James Bond Jr. for that matter. But look, as space hares go this guy was pretty tough, and he did a lot more in the fight against bad guys than that little prick Peppy Hare in Starwing…
Us: ‘I’ll do a fucking barrel roll if I want ye wee cu..!’
Our mammies: ‘What are you shouting about?’
Us: ‘He…nothing.’
But yeah, anyway, Bucky – just because you stick something in space doesn’t mean it’s any use.
The Rhosgobel rabbits – the Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey
These fleet-pawed little legends appeared in The Hobbit pulling the oddball, mushroom-chomping, shit-stained Brown Wizard, Radagast, on a sleigh like a team of tiny huskies. His and their evasive manoeuvres ensured that our heroes could evade the clutches of the goblin Wargs. Just watch those little doggies rollin’.
12. The White Rabbit – Alice In Wonderland
This lad has been brought to the screen by Disney, and ex-Disney employee Tim Burton, in 1951 and 2010 respectively. It is the White Rabbit who, wittingly or not, leads Alice down the rabbithole to Narnia or whatever. He’s pretty well dressed for a rabbit, but he’s something of an enigma. Burton’s adaptation has him as some sort of rebel resistance fighter working against the Red Queen, but Disney is less forgiving, painting him as the little turncoat that he is.
11. The March Hare – Alice In Wonderland
The March Hare is cut from an altogether different cloth than the White Rabbit, a loveable loon in the Disney version and a demented Scotch fellow in the Burton one. A very, merry unbirthday everyone!
10. Jessica Rabbit – Who Framed Roger Rabbit
“I’m not bad, I’m just drawn that way”
Jessica is one half of a perfectly acceptable interspecies marriage, a Toon woman shacked up with a Toon rabbit. Voiced by Kathleen Turner, Jessica is the ultimate screen siren, an amalgamation of every screen sexpot up to that point. Certain cinema-goers eyes were said to have literally popped out on the film’s release, possibly to do with the fact that some eagle-eyed viewers caught a glimpse of the supposed nude frames that had been surreptitiously inserted by the animators. The veracity of these supposed shots remain unconfirmed by Snopes, so don’t injure yourselves rushing off to find the Blu-ray. Unsurprisingly, a sex toy exists named after this gold-hearted wampant wabbit.
9. The Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog – Monty Python & The Holy Grail
“We better not risk another frontal assault, that rabbit’s dynamite”
Tim The Enchanter spoke of a cave, wherein King Arthur would find the last resting place of The Holy Grail. The cave was guarded by a creature ‘so foul, so cruel, that no man yet has fought with it, and lived.’ As a bunny appears from the chasm, the knights scoff. One is dispatched by Arthur to kill the rabbit, which promptly leaps for his jugular and decapitates this unfortunate Leporid-fodder. A bloodbath ensues, and knights fall, until the beast is ultimately eradicated in cowardly fashion by the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch.
8. Roger Rabbit – Who Framed Roger Rabbit
Roger is the A-list Toontown star and distressed husband of Jessica Rabbit, who is framed for murder and must enlist the help of Bob Hoskins’ private dick Eddie Valiant to clear his name. Roger is a high-strung fellow at the best of times – when Valiant shows him snaps of Jessica playing patty-cake with Marvin Acme, Roger bolts and is prime suspect when Acme is then murdered. It’s all down to a massive Machiavellian asshole called Judge Doom, and you better believe he gets what’s coming to him in true cartoon violence fashion.
7. Jimmy Sr. – The Commitments
“That’s fuckin’ blasphemy! Elvis wasn’t a Cajun”
Although it was Jimmy Rabbitte who rounded up The Commitments and brought soul back to Dublin, it was Jimmy’s mutton-chopped, Elvis-loving da who kept Jimmy’s feet on solid ground with his non-suffering of fools (‘Is this the band then? Betcha U2 are shittin’ themselves.’) Without his exasperated support there would be no band; sure didn’t he let half of Dublin’s musicians through his doors to audition?
6. Frank – Donnie Darko
Frank is not so much a rabbit as a dude in a suit. In Donnie Darko, Frank acts as a psychopomp – a spirit guide, a conductor of souls to the ‘next place’. Frank exudes menace, as much as a man in a giant bunny costume can, but anyone whose predictions on the end of the world are this precise deserves to be taken seriously.
5. Harvey – Harvey
We here at Ramp.ie love Jimmy Stewart, and look on anyone who doesn’t with deep suspicion, for only the most cynical of hearts could hold anything but affection for the man who played George Bailey. Now, George Bailey gets roaring drunk in It’s A Wonderful Life before meeting his guardian angel, Clarence. We’re not saying that this makes Clarence any less real. In Harvey, Stewart plays Elwood, a genial drunk whose best friend is the rabbit of the title, a 6’ 3 & 1/2” pooka. You should be so lucky to have a friend like him….[more]
When word came through last November of a visit to these shores by country legend John Prine, there was no question that Vicar Street wouldn’t be filled to capacity on the night, and sure enough an extra date was necessary. Prine, joined by Jason Wilberand Dave Jacques on guitar and bass respectively, kicked things off in Derry before hitting the capital for an all-encompassing run-through of his recording career. It’s an all-seated house, standing room only at the back of the balcony, and there’s a hum of expectation as Goldenplec joins the Sunday evening crowd.
Philip Donnelly is just finishing off his set as we enter, doling out a cover of Proud Mary to a buzzing venue. Donnelly has toured and recorded with anyone who’s anyone in terms of country music; Townes Van Zandt, Guy Clarke, Johnny Cash,The Everly Brothers, Nanci Griffith, Emmylou Harris, and not least Prine himself…the guy has been around. Judging by Donnelly’s smile and the crowd’s reaction as he rounds things off, it has been a successful set, and thankfully it’s not the last we’ll see of him tonight.
Prine and his fellow musicians begin by bringing us right back to the beginning, opening withSpanish Pipedream from Prine’s eponymous 1971 debut. All he has to do to elicit spontaneous applause this early in the night is saunter in front of the monitors, closing the gap between performer and punter. From the moment the delicate picked intro of Humidity Built The Snowman begins, a hush descends that remains unbroken for its duration, as Wilber and Jacques hang back and the rich texture of Prine’s voice comes to the fore.
Things get livelier with Your Flag Decal Won’t Get You Into Heaven Anymore, and Prine makes the most of the song’s pauses, hesitating just the right amount for the greatest comedy effect. As he often does during the set, Prine eschews the spotlight during Wilber’s guitar solo, one that leads to a burst of applause from the crowd. “Taught him everything he knows” the singer deadpans. Wilber’s contributions are both sympathetic and restrained, whether it’s the refined swell of harmonica on Six O’Clock News or one of the many, fine lead guitar embellishments he provides throughout. Similarly, Jacques anchors everything from his side of the stage, switching from electric to double bass over the set.
“I love this one!” a female voice shouts as Storm Windows begins, again with Prine relinquishing the spotlight to a fantastic, understated solo from Wilber. “Thank God for Benylin” he jokes at one point, in reference to the bottle he swigs from periodically, and if his voice is giving him trouble there’s no evidence of such tonight. The crowd is in full voice, joining in for the chorus of Fish & Whistle. Glory Of True Love has “the dubious honour of being the fastest thing we play” we’re told, “…it’s all downhill after here”…[more]
Dublin four-piece Brass Monkey certainly don’t give away a lot about themselves so the ‘Tape’ EP will have to do the talking for them. Influenced by any number of rockin’ bands, they rush through its five drum-driven songs, each performed with gusto.
Scream leads, its lurching guitar and drum segment emerging from guitar chaos after the shouted “Waaaaaaaaaah!” vocal. It’s a shouty EP. Same Old Story is a bit more melodic; loose, raggedy funk with a rock’n’roll guitar solo. The fast, punk guitar of Trash – “Trash it around/ Bang it around” – pulls back a bit in the chorus to let the solo breathe before rushing back into the coda. Title track Tape is made for the moshpit – a quick mid-song breather shows mercy, then it’s back to the pit before it abruptly ends in a clatter of toms. There’s a Ramones feel to these numbers, and while the singer is economic with the vocal, repetition is order of the day and snare rolls abound…[more]
Masters of self-sufficiency Popical Island have done it again. Members of the collective pop up in one band and another, then a different one, or maybe two at once, or who’s counting anyway? Lie Ins – not exactly new on the scene having been an entity as far back as at least 2009 – consists of two members culled fromGroom, Squarehead and Tieranniesaur. You do the math. No wait, don’t, it’s simple really – Groom’s Michael Stevens takes vocal and guitar duties while Popical Island’s resident sticksman Ruan van Vliet mans the sticks. A bass guitar is superfluous to requirement in this collection of eleven songs delivered in under thirty minutes.
‘Death To Lie Ins’ kicks off with a hat-trick. Yeat’s referencing opener Cold Comfort, with its shouted refrain, is a burst of sardonic power pop. The playfully callous, tongue-in-cheek Vegetarian Girls follows on its heels – “Damien Wall it’s not your fault/ That your head’s an oversized empty vault” – its funny couplets taking the most unexpected mocking turns. We Were Born Into Corduroy– “We were born into corduroy/like you were born into money” – may well be the best song to feature corduroy since The Wedding Present.
After this introduction the pace moves to the forceful, choppy guitar strumming of The Low Men, with its nefarious protagonists “…pissing in the alleys on the weekend.” It almost feels like it belongs on another collection, a somewhat darker affair interrupting the flow and feel of the album thus far. Title track Death To Lie Ins features background effects, adding a space rock dimension as it noisily ascends out of bed and into the cosmos. The jangling punky guitar is to the fore once more in the album’s latter stages, particularly the giddy, mile-a-minute I Really Feel The Feelings I Feel, and Thank You Letters with its simply effective drum and guitar breaks. Then there’s Universal Truth, shuffling along at pace and gleefully rhyming “know me” with “anat-omy”..[more]
When Thurston Moore,Sonic Youth frontman, talking head in every music documentary ever made, and co-conspirator in a mind-boggling array of collaborations – last came to Dublin it was on the back of his third solo album ‘Demolished Thoughts’. That Button Factory gig – an all-seated, candlelit tabled, hushed acoustic affair – was an altogether different beast from tonight’s Whelan’s show. Moore along with drummer John Moloney have taken a step outside of their latest project Chelsea Light Movingto embark on a series of experimental flights of freeform fancy. Their ‘Caught On Tape’ LP captured the duo doing just that on a European tour in Spring of 2012, but tonight it’s Dublin’s chance to see the sagely guitarist at his unfettered best.
Support comes from Dublin metal merchants Zom, who immediately make the stage their own, displaying a black backdrop with a logo that looks like Beelzebub’s bunghole. A stagehand lights three candles on stands and the three-piece band take the stage, all snarling instrumentals and indistinguishable shouting. Stage and band are now bathed in a red glow as the band dispense spacey, doom-laden power chords and impressive double bass pedal franticism in the Slayer mould. Songs are punctuated by effect-laden vocal embellishments and reverb-y howls, and admittedly things start to feel a bit predictable towards the end. By the time the bassist has cast off his instrument leaving the other two to wind down towards a screaming finale, Zom have tipped the scales in their favour in what is a raucous and enjoyable set.
Moore and Moloney appear then, the former – stout in hand – leisurely going about the business of taking his guitar from its case and generally pottering about the stage. “Turn off Led Zeppelin please” instructs a jovial Moore before talking up the merits of Wire and The Fall over Led Zep. The two lads have decided to spend January in Ireland apparently – “I’ve got the red hair, he’s got the attitude.” After cementing a rapport with some entertaining banter it’s straight in with some concentrated head banging, Moore stalking the stage during the lengthy feedback section.
Lip follows, before which Moore chastises Moloney – “Your drumbeat knocked over my Guinness dude”. The pint of stout almost becomes a third band member, playing tricks on the guitarist by pretending to fall over and hiding from him whenever he leaves it down. We suspect it’s not his first. Someone shouts to turn it up. “Oh, okay” Moore shrugs, following with more punk rock thrashing before the ever-ascending guitar of Burroughs. Both men are clearly enjoying the arse off the gig, and the crowd are right there with them.
‘Psychic Hearts’ song – one of many from that record – Pretty Bad transforms from its experimental feedback breakdown into metal riffage, seeming to disintegrate into an entanglement of digital bleeps before pushing back into an abrasive, fret-scouring onslaught. After pimping his ‘zine at the merch stand – one wag calls for a PDF – he reads an original poem inspired by Irish poet Dennis O’Driscoll before Staring Statues. This rendering is as conventional as the night gets; a short, sharp burst of punk flaying…[more]
It’s the second of two nights in the capital for Shuggie Otis – songwriter, multi-instrumentalist and all round enigmatic cult figure. With three albums under his belt by the age of twenty-one, Otis then fell off the radar until the nineties, when his work was re-discovered and the classic ‘Inspiration Information’ album re-released on David Byrne’s label. Otis celebrated his birthday the previous night in Whelan’s and so kicks off his fifty-ninth year proper in the cosseted amphitheatre of The Sugar Club.
Looking somewhat like a preacher man in his black and white garb, Otis appears and compliments the crowd, and his band, telling us “We’re gonna break the laws tonight”. The crowd are up for it, and respond in kind to the flute solo of Island Letter. Otis takes a time out to introduce his “real good” band – a master of understatement is Shuggie. Trying To get Close To Youfollows, lounging along with swirling-psych guitar effects as each band member takes his dues, stretching out on solos.
During Happy House we get just one instance of Otis the guitar maestro, delivering a wah solo with the best of them, bolstered by a flute accompaniment. Otis spends the gig wrenching all manner of noises from his guitars, constantly modifying the sound with pedals, pick-up switch and good old-fashioned hammering the shit out of them. The sound man frequently comes in for some light ribbing, and indeed the vocal sound is erratic throughout leaving much of Otis’ stage patter incomprehensible.
“How many of you came here to catch tonight?” asks Otis. That’s LA speak for getting the shift. The slow blues of Sweet Thang follows, with Otis coming centre stage for a solo. Sparkle City turns into a jammy, solo-laden extended piece with the band getting lost in it behind those powerhouse funk drums. Here and for the duration of the gig Shuggie’s bassist shrugs in time with the beat, and what was once a halo of empty space in front of the stage is now filled with grooving punters…[more]
French Bird – Does the band name refer to a variety of feathered beast? Hailing from Dublin as they do, it seems an unlikely moniker. More credible is that the name refers to the female subject of the songs on this debut EP from the four-strong band. Indeed, these songs could well be about five different birds – it’s lovelorn stuff from the off, deeply indebted to an instantly recognisable Eighties sound.
A drum and feedback intro leads into We Too Remain and the template is set, with echo-y guitars and pseudo-goth angst. Unfortunately it all goes a bit Evanescence in the chorus, musically and lyrically – “It was you I heard calling/ In the sacred name above/ Lead her to an open wound/ Let her drink the blood”. The title track also builds on a feedback foundation under a driving bassline. With what has to be a wink to Placebo’s Nancy Boy dropped in there amidst the accusations, it’s so close to early U2 as to be pastiche.
A poppier Red Pencil is a more interesting prospect. While again derivative it’s quite an enjoyably upbeat, if inoffensive, love song in debt to The Cure. Showing more promise again is Insomnia, beginning with some nice interplay between the musicians before levelling off. It appears to be the unwitting tale of a man entrenched so deep in the friend zone Black Ops couldn’t get him out – “Well we can just sleep/ Or maybe you could talk to me/If you need more time/I’ll let you breathe”. There’s a serious bang of Snow Patrol to proceedings, with the general consensus being that she’s just not that into him…[more]
After selling out The Workman’s in February of this year, First Aid Kit return to the slightly more spacious environs of Vicar Street on a wet and wintery November evening. With a majestic sophomore album under their belts in ‘The Lion’s Roar’, the Söderberg sisters have been garnering deserved praise for their songwriting chops and crystalline harmonies. Tonight sees them joined by a drummer, the two sisters side by side leading the charm offensive with one perfect moment following another. We’ve just come in from the cold though, so before that we want some warming up.
An instant hush descends on the venue as Idiot Wind – Amanda Bergman – enters alone, greets us and sits behind the keys. A laid back set follows with Bergman switching between keys and acoustic guitar. Find The Rhythm In the Noise, a song about a dark place she grew up in Sweden – “dark, but fun” – lilts gently before she straps on an acoustic for the next couple. Having “managed to learn two songs on guitar” for the tour, Springsteen’s I’m On Fire displays a touch of Tracy Chapman in the vocal and the crowd has now swelled nicely. She knows that the latter of the two is good and practically dances the guitar off herself before returning to the keys for the final two songs. It’s a well received set and a reverential crowd, and as Bergman humps her own gear off the stage the ambience has been successfully set for the headliners.
The stage darkens, woodland imagery is projected on the backdrop and First Aid Kit enter to unsecured ambient noises. The remarkable vocal harmonies are to the fore right from the off for In The Morning, the flowing dresses of the sisters and the backdrop adding to the organic feel of the night. The chiming intro to Bluebanishes the darkness once and for all, a sweet melancholic early-set treat. Our Own Pretty Ways is dedicated toPussy Riot, fast country propelled by their “Viking of the North” on drums. The set is interspersed with humour from the band, never more so when they are talking up the deluxe version of ‘The Lion’s Roar’ on sale at the merch stand. It’s contents are detailed, the sisters exchanging dramatic ‘ooohs’ and ‘aaahs’ to general merriment in the room. Marianne’s Son follows, a bittersweet tale completely at odds with the funny banter.
Johanna dons an autoharp While Klara takes vocals for New Year’s Eve before one of the magical moments of the night. “We thought we’d abandon modern technology for this one” says Johanna as they come to the front of the stage and sing Ghost Town unamplified. With just acoustic guitar and vocals, there is a murmur from the crowd singing gently along – a beautiful moment that elicits spontaneous laughter from the musicians and the crowd, and a unifying moment most bands could only dream of. One chap at the front comes in early on a vocal line and everyone cracks up, before the crowd take over on the high vocal for the ending…[more]
Self-professed purveyors of bass, blips, beeps and beatsNoatak comprise of three men, some guitars and an arsenal of synthetic sounds. This four track EP is the first release from the trio, and while showing promise feels just that bit too brief to become fully immersive in the trip the band are attempting to bring the listener on. Rounds kicks things off to a bassy trip-hop start, where siren tones wail, Thom Yorke style vocals intone, and electric guitar slashes and glitchy noises all compete.
justysir 