new music reviews
The Pretenders, Brighton Dome review - phone-free and feisty
Thomas H. Green

Before they even step on stage The Pretenders win me to their side. An announcement prior to their appearance tells the audience, “The Pretenders request you keep your phone in your pocket.” Brilliantly, these aren’t idle words. As the gig progresses security quietly but firmly approach anyone with their phone out and asks them to desist. A few songs into the set, Chrissie Hynde has just begun a stripped-down take on her 1986 hit “Hymn to Her”, accompanied only by Welsh keyboard-player Carwyn Ellis, when she stops short. “Would everyone rather watch you take pictures than me sing?” she asks an unwise soul at the front who has disobeyed her request.

As a fan of gigs as communal events, rather than of everyone being partly somewhere else, partly concerned with informing the world they were at said gig, this anti-phone stuff is pleasing. But there’s much more to The Pretenders than a Luddite rock’nroll statement. Their performance emanates a sense of having a good time, boasting much cheeky interplay, fronted by a woman who still regards the concert as a spontaneous display of energy.

Chrissie Hynde has led The Pretenders, on and off, in various guises, for almost 40 years. Behind her on stage, surrounded by Perspex screens, is Martin Chambers, distinctively mutton-chopped, white hair slicked back, an amazing drummer and the sole other member from the classic late Seventies line-up which was decimated by drug deaths. Hynde wears a glittery pink jacket, tight jeans, studded belt, and a Pretenders tee-shirt, a svelte presence wielding an equally glittery guitar, her hair shaggy, punky, her features dominated by measured kohl eyes.

The set, which kicks off with the title track from last year’s Alone album, is peppered with most of the hits – a double punch of “Back on the Chain Gang” and “Talk of the Town” fires things up nicely – but the band seem to enjoy themselves most on numbers that settle into a punk-skiffle rhythm then turn into a jam, as on “Thumbelina” which blossoms into an astounding take on “Middle of the Road”. This grows faster and faster, with guitarist James Walbourne soloing at boggling speed and ferocity, playing off against Chambers' provocative drum patterns.

Hynde is in jovial form – dismissing her phone ban later in the set as a crabby whim. She tells anecdotes, notably about a failed play for the male lead in the video for “I’ll Stand by You”. She asks the crowd at one point, since this is Brighton, why haven’t they made her a gay icon like Madonna. Her singing voice is fine, as it ever was, retaining her trademark combination of softness and steel, which comes to the fore on “Stop You Sobbing”.

However, as she says after twangy Lynch-ian slowie “Let’s Get Lost”, “This is getting too serious, we came to rock’n’roll.” And they surely do in their two encores, notably on 2002 chugger “Break up the Concrete” and bass-led debut album closer “Mystery Achievement”, before eventually giving in to crowd pleas at the last and cheerfully striding through their only chart-topper, “Brass in Pocket”. They gather, arms around each other, and wave at us, thanking us at the very end. It’s a regular concert ritual, of course, but The Pretenders on stage tonight really do seem to be in the flush of something fresh, which is invigorating to witness.

Overleaf: 37-minute set of The Pretenders live in 2016

Nile Rodgers: How to Make It in the Music Business, BBC Four review - good times had by all
Jasper Rees

One New Year’s Eve in the 1970s, hot young session musicians Nile Rodgers and Bernard Edwards were assured by Grace Jones that they could penetrate the inner sanctum of Studio 54 by dropping her name at the door. A doorman thought otherwise and invited them to "fuck off". Making alternative arrangements, they bought a couple of bottles of Dom Perignon – “rock’n’roll mouthwash”, in Rodgers’ phrase – and went home to jam.

Reissue CDs Weekly: PP Arnold
Kieron Tyler

Anyone who finds Eric Clapton and The Bee Gees’ Barry Gibb stepping up to offer their services as their producer is obviously special. It’s a view reinforced by knowing Rolling Stones’ manager Andrew Loog Oldham and Small Faces were already their champions. Only one person fits this unique bill.

Tunes of the Munster Pipers review - wondrous collection confounds expectations
peter.quinn

With their contrasting yet entirely complementary timbres and their ability to create textural palettes ranging from lonesome single notes to fulsome chords rich with harmonics, the combination of pipes and fiddle is surely one of the most potent in traditional Irish music.

That was certainly the case at this remarkable concert celebrating the work of the 19th century music collector, Canon James Goodman (1828-1896). A Protestant minister, Irish speaker and uilleann piper from Dingle, Co. Kerry, and later a Professor of Irish at Trinity College Dublin, Goodman’s passion for music saw him amass a vast collection of over 2,300 tunes and 90 songs, many hundreds transcribed from the playing of fellow piper Thomas Kennedy.

The music-making confounded your expectations with endless surprises

Bringing this wondrous collection from page to stage were two outstanding musicians, fiddle player Aoife Ní Bhriain and piper Caoimhín Ó Fearghail. Straddling the worlds of traditional and classical music, as much at home leading the Clare Memory Orchestra as she is performing with the Crash Ensemble, Ní Bhriain proved to be a stunning stylist, leaping around octaves and switching between tune playing and accompaniment in the blink of an eye.

From An Rinn in the west Waterford Gaeltacht and a recipient of the TG4 Young Musician of the Year Award in 2012, Ó Fearghail’s virtuosity and versatility – in addition to the uilleann pipes, he also sings and plays flute and guitar – has seen him in much demand by bands (Caladh Nua, Danú) and soloists alike.

Presented by Irish Heritage and the Irish Traditional Music Archive (ITMA) in association with the English Folk Dance and Song Society, and a year in the preparation, from the very opening bars of the march “Fáinne Geal an Lae”, a unique version of the well-known “Dawning of the Day”, the music-making confounded your expectations with endless surprises.

The slow air “Ceó Draoigheachta Sheól Oidhche Chum Fághain Mé” (“It was a magic mist that put me astray one night”) was a spine-tingling stand-out. Played first by Ní Bhriain, underpinned by Ó Fearghail’s single note drone on the root note of A, by the end of the final, unison, repetition the air had cast a powerful spell over the Cecil Sharp House audience.

As well as the more unusual, even unique, repertoire contained within the collection, such as the perky “Quadrille” (which irrevocably called to mind The Chieftains), it was fascinating to hear the duo play two of the best loved jigs in the tradition, “An Rógaire Dubh” and “Airgiod Caillighe” (a version of “The Hag with the Money”) and note the subtle differences in phrase endings when compared to the versions we know today.

The venerably ancient love song “Maidin Bhog Aoibhinn” and “Caitlín na Guaire”, the latter framed by the loveliest of instrumentals and grounded by a profound D drone in the pipes, hinted at what a treasure trove the collection is for any aspiring traditional singer.

Illustrating how the collection represents a living, breathing entity, rather than a museum piece frozen in time, the duo took poetic licence with a couple of hornpipes which they appended to the march “An Fhinne-Bhean Mhodhamhuil” (“The Gracious Fair Lady”), transforming the first into a captivating strathspey, complete with some bracing double-stopping from Ní Bhriain, and the second into a driving polka. Matching each other note for note, you couldn’t blow smoke between the players.

The evening began with a scene-setting introduction from the Director of ITMA, Grace Toland, and an instructive film by artist Michael Fortune which provided useful background on the collection.

Long thought lost, Toland revealed that the book of song lyrics Goodman transcribed was finally reunited with the rest of the collection in Trinity College in 2008 (having been discovered in an attic in England). Well over 150 years since his initial, painstaking transcriptions, the Goodman collection represents a priceless snapshot of tunes and songs as they were played and sung at the time in west Kerry.

@MrPeterQuinn

Overleaf: watch Mick O'Brien, Emer Mayock and Aoife Ní Bhriain perform “Ceó Draoigheachta Sheól Oidhche Chum Fághain Mé”

Dua Lipa, Brighton Dome review - tomorrow's star today
Thomas H. Green

High hopes are riding on Dua Lipa. Tonight is the first date of her Self-Titled Tour, but it ends next April. In between, it will travel all over the world, culminating in a series of British stadium dates, the last one at the Alexandra Palace. Such confidence is born of a string of hits across Europe, culminating in this summer’s UK chart-topper, “New Rules”. When she kicks off her show at the Brighton Dome, the near-capacity audience is buzzing, and sing along to one of her bigger successes, “Hotter Than Hell”. This crowd really are onside. They’ve been chanting her name, on and off, for half an hour before she appeared.

Dua Lipa is a very 21st century pop star. Of British-Albanian extraction, her teen years at Sylvia Young Theatre School, YouTube showcasing, and a brief modelling career, were followed by Warner Brothers “developing” her from age 19. She runs on to wild applause wearing a black bra top and high-waisted green Oxford bags that cover her shoes and touch the floor. With ironed straight hair, she is model pretty, yet still maintains something of the everygirl. Behind her a three-piece band of efficient young pros play synths, guitar and drums in front of a trapezium screen that tends to show misty, mysterious, fashionista art film of the singer.

If she can deliver on these beginnings, she has the makings of star

With only one album under her belt, a multi-producer affair featuring work by A-list songwriter/producers-for hire, her set still lasts an hour-and-a-half. The best numbers are snappy examples of the anthemic female self-empowerment phone-pop that currently rules chart-land. Before the acronymic “IDGAF” with its chorus of “I don’t give a fuck”, the screen dedicates it to all the “fuckboys who have done you wrong”, and asks that we raise our middle fingers to salute them. It’s spiky, electro-riffy, and very, very now, swiftly followed by the hit “Blow Your Mind (Mwah)”, its bangin’ 4/4 kick and title kiss turning the venue into a school disco rave-up.

Dua Lipa also wants to display her sensitive side so occasionally clambers down and stands aloft the front barricade. She sings the ballad “New Love” from here, “the first song I ever wrote”, accompanied by only her guitarist. In truth, she’s yet to develop the venue-encompassing charisma, quirkiness and imagination with which stars such as Lady Gaga and Beyoncé hold huge venues captive, and she doesn’t have enough memorable and varied songs to go beyond the I-like-it-because-I just-heard-it-on-the-radio-(but-will-have-forgotten-it-by-next-year) audience. However, she’s at the start of her career, and it would be crass – and very male music journo – to tear her down for this. After all, if she was rocking out in some sweaty cellar, playing bum notes at every turn, she’d receive a pass.

Dua Lipa may be at the start of a rise from current pop success to something bigger. Her individuality will eventually need amping beyond the pleasant-but-feisty everygirl schtick. For now, though, she has “New Rules”, one of the year’s most whip-smart pop songs, tight R&B electro-pop with that killer line – also on tee-shirts in the lobby – “And if you’re under him, you ain’t getting over him”. She saves it for last, of course, at the end of a triumphant three-song encore in front of a by-now baying crowd, multitudes of young women and men having a top night out. She leaves them on a high, wanting more. If she can deliver on these beginnings, she has the makings of star.

Overleaf: watch the video for Dua Lipa "New Rules"

Reissue CDs Weekly: Motörhead
Kieron Tyler

Immediately before recording their first album in 1977, Motörhead were on their last legs. They went into the studio after playing what was initially conceived as their farewell show. Appropriately, no one then could have predicted that the band formed by Hawkwind’s former bass player in 1975 would become integral to rock’s rich tapestry. It wasn’t even their first attempt to make an album: one begun in 1975 had been shelved.

Sparks, O2 Shepherd’s Bush Empire review - age does not wither them
Liz Thomson

It’s more than 40 years since Sparks appeared on Top of the Pops with “This Town Ain’t Big Enough for Both of Us”, one of a handful of hits from the brothers Mael, Ron and Russell, who grew up in 1950s and ‘60s LA detesting the “cerebral and sedate” folk boom and grooving to such British acts as the Who and the Kinks.

Norah Jones, Ronnie Scott's review - heartfelt music that transcends bland
Peter Culshaw

When we were at peak Norah a decade ago, she looked rather intimidated by the large crowds at venues like the Forum. Having been suddenly catapulted into the limelight she looked nervous, lacked any real stage charisma and her so-so band looked like the kind of musicians you’d find in an average bar in Brooklyn, competent rather than anything remarkable. Her recent Day Breaks, was something of a return to the style of her first multi-million selling album 2002’s Come Away With Me, and to see her back playing a smaller venue like Ronnie Scott’s was a treat.

theartsdesk on Vinyl 32: OMD, Twin Peaks, Bicep, Sisters of Mercy and more
Thomas H. Green

September and October see a deluge of new releases. Everybody and their aunt puts out an album as autumn hits, so theartsdesk on Vinyl appears this month (and next) in a slightly expanded edition. As ever, the fare on offer is as diverse as possible, from black metal to Afro-funk via film and TV soundtracks. All musical life is here, ripe and waiting.

VINYL OF THE MONTH

Reissue CDs Weekly: Ducks Deluxe
Kieron Tyler

That this year is the 40th anniversary of 1977, the year punk rock went mainstream, shouldn’t obscure the pub rock foundations underpinning much of what was supposedly new. The Clash’s Joe Strummer had fronted pub circuit regulars The 101’ers. In 1976, the Sex Pistols regularly played West London pub The Nashville Rooms. The Damned came together after Brian James and Rat Scabies scouted the audience at a Nashville Pistols/101’ers show for potential members of the band they intended forming.