Three events on a Sunday night in the Déise, 30-4-17
Sitting in the house sharing a few drinks and chats ahead of a night of music in Waterford City. First up is Rusangano Family (with support) organised by Labyrinth Mgmt and Events in St. Patricks Gateway Centre. After this a short stroll down the Quay and into Jordans American Bar for a swift half to catch the vinyl players spin their finest, then out the door and up the lane to Central Arts for the Sonic Dreams promo night. As we were getting ready to call a taxi we received news that the much anticipated Rusangano gig had been postponed. We discussed the situation over another drink, then headed in for the rest of the night's revelry.
Jordans was well attended; the front bar full of the grey and the good with a younger crowd out back. In the bottleneck between bar door and smoking area vintage tunes were bapping out through twin tops; the vinyl wearing its age with clicks and pops and crackle with the occasional skip to the dismay of the DJ. Patti Smith's 'Horses' brought people in from the beer garden to dance while Ian Dury held them there as more heads got up to skank and bop. Midnight soon came and a quick few steps brought us out the door and up the steps to the SAW fundrasier.
Ollie cueing up another one
Put my pint down in the jacks, eh, which one is mine again?
Amy, Dan and John
Friendly faces greeted us upon entry, Dan and John on duty outside with good vibes waiting within. We had missed the previous acts of MANTLE and SOMA, and Dave Mono could be heard pounding through the door with beats that gets in under the skin to make the bones jump and jangle, no standing still allowed. His set was full of well crafted peaks and dips, the music was always going somewhere. Every build-up had a pinnacle followed by a gentler bit to sway to and catch your breath before going through it all over again. Up and down, in and out, building and building like waves onto a shore, our bodies buoyed on the incoming tide of this beautiful and savage mix.
Dave Mono weaving his magic. You can listen here: Soundcloud
Steven Stubbs informed me that my dancing was captured for posterity on his multicam broadcast of the event, which you can see here: Linky
Dave brought us in to land, the lights came up, sweat still glooping from the skin of my back as I sat to put my boots back on. Familiar faces passed by as we filed out into the night to stand and talk on the path a while before heading home.
Two days later and my legs are still in bits from it. I hobble around the house and every time I cringe as I stand up it reminds me of the manic hands in the air dancing on that bank holiday Monday.
Where's me boots! I swear I grew a tail while I was in there.
On tour with ‘Johnny I Hardly Knew Ye’ at the Glór Theatre in Ennis
“See colour, See differences, Take chances, Before it gets too late” – Delorentos
Eugene’s got it covered
25 hours after I last left my bed with even less sleep this time and we’re on the road and on our way to the Glór theatre in Ennis. Today sees the third performance of the 2017 tour of ‘Johnny I Hardly Knew Ye’, written by Jim Nolan and produced by Garter Lane Arts Centre, and we’re up for the ride along with the production. The main road from Carrick was closed due to an accident the night before so we took a detour via the R680. Part of a slow convoy now, headed by 2 lorries travelling along a winding R road through Kilsheelan with woodland on each side. Leaf carpeted paths can be seen through the tangle with glimpses of forestry roads marked by yellow barriers. Intermittent houses with well kept plots nestle in the deciduous woodland affording views of the snow dusted Comeraghs that grow large on the horizon until we eventually pass them by.
About an hour later the Glór Theatre come into view dressed in stone and clad in corrugated black metal with plate glass windows. The lines of the building broken up by slender silver splinters of Birch; the ladies well spaced along the curved path out front, reaching to the sky with their fine fronds. We came round the rear of the building just in time to see Lippy (lux), Martina (SM) and Michael (Prod Mgr) lined up on the loading bay beside the truck. We parked and entered via the huge stage doors and into the scene dock off stage right overlooked by the open balcony of the green room.
Amy and Mike carrying through a flat
A few short steps and I was on the wide stage, looking out onto retractable tiered seating with a sweeping dress circle overhead. Lighting bars & trestles descended from the ceiling; rows of fresnels, parcans and spots suspended like jagged black fruit on the boughs with Lippy passing between them changing filters and making adjustments. Meanwhile Martina, Amy and Michael brought in the flats and lay them against the back wall ready to be assembled in place.
Lippy in his natural environment
With some guidance from the tech manager I wandered around the spacious purpose-built structure. Sun streamed in through the big windows of the public area out front, the exhibition on the 1st floor sprawled past the bounds of the gallery space down to the bright and spacious common areas of the atrium and café out front. Eddie, the part-time go-to of the Glór approached us one by one once the bulk of the flats had been carried through “Are you a tea or a coffee man?” he asks, a presumption I love.
By 11am the bright café is already starting to echo with chatter and the clink of morning teas, meanwhile not far away in the dim theatre Amy and Martina are on stage marking out the back line for the flats while Lippy & Eddie set the lights, the room clad quiet except for instructions passing to and fro.
By 11.30 the flats start going up, Mike and Ger accompanied by the vvvvvt of screw guns and the world starts to take shape. At 2pm Lippy is on the Talloscope passing between the flats focusing the lights. By 15.49 the last few repairs are being made to one of the desks, the stage all but ready for the imminent arrival of Jim Nolan (writer and director) and the cast.
Mike and Ger assembling the flats
Lippy at his station and Eddie who knows the string that binds all things
Martina dressing Coyne’s desk
Time here passes with a smooth efficiency, not in staccato seconds but in fluid hours and unnoticed minutes filled with activity and endeavour. One by one the actors arrive; gathering for a quick press shot for next week’s papers in Dún Laoghaire. Lippy and Jim Nolan run through the audio levels ahead of the show. Backstage the light smell of cigarette smoke wafts in from outside signalling a rare break for the crew, and the low murmur of actors running their lines comes from over the balcony of the green room.
The stage is set. There is a stillness in the theatre, like a beast languid with deception but tensed and ready to move. Around 7pm Jim starts topping and tailing the scenes, running entrances and exits and transitions. A quick skip through the play with lines delivered out of meter, a curt and informal exchange between familiars. During all of this I was hunkered stage left, moving between the blacks and the shadows shooting the performers and Martina, now wearing her stage manager’s hat.
The trick here is to provide minimal distraction, to be caught is to be executed on stage. Keep the head down and move quietly. The Fuji X-T10 I acquired last year is an absolute game changer for me, the electronic shutter and compact profile of the camera allows me to shoot in ways that were just impractical 6 months ago, and the f2 lens gives me the aperture I need to get the hitherto unseen shots.
Ema waiting for her cue
Behind the set I see the wait before the first entrance, light spilling from the aperture in the flats, the impression of a long hallway just an arch of wood with the form of an actor draped in a character’s skin waiting for their queue. The least seen moment before the most public one. The core of the matter.
Theatre is a spectacle and a fabrication of reality. A world rests on a few lengths of 2 be 4. 6mm of plywood and paint looks like a 60 year old room ripped from a building and transposed to the stage for the characters to inhabit. A spectral space where humans become imaginary beings woven from the mind of the writer. The duality of actor and character; they are at once both themselves and the other. And just like a fabrication of the imagination, the whole construct comes down with a few well places motions in the physical realm; to be packed and moved into the mind’s eye of another theatre space.
Half an hour to house. 15 mins to house. The sound of vocal warm-ups and stretches on stage, whoops and yawns and arpeggios. The illusion is set yet it is hard to leave by the door we came in through, to hit the road and head home. Garrett passes us in costume giving a small wave en route to the stage. The job feels unfinished and stepping out into the night feels surreal, like when engrossed in a book if you were to pause to look around; for a moment the two worlds kinda bleed into each other and you straddle the realms. We will accompany this tour to a few more venues, and will soon make up the hours in the strange thin temporary space between reality and performance.
