Choice Music Prize: Revisiting The Shortlisted Albums

Ireland's music community is set to gather at Vicar Street, Dublin tonight – to find out who will be going home with the prize for RTÉ Choice Music Prize Album of the Year.

Back in January, the shortlist for the Choice Music Prize was revealed by Tracy Clifford on RTÉ 2FM – with an emphasis on the cross-genre talent currently on offer across the country. Every Irish album released in 2019 was eligible, but the ten-album shortlist showcases the best and brightest stars.

This year, for the first time ever, the panel of eleven judges contains more women than men – including Claire Beck from TodayFM, Molly King of Other Voices, Roisin McNickle from BBC Northern Ireland and journalist Andrea Cleary.

Ahead of tonight's awards show, we're getting in the spirit by revisiting our reviews of the shortlisted albums.

Daithí - L.O.S.S (Strange Brew)

A firm favourite on the Irish festival circuit, Daithí’s 2019 was already looking bright – with stand-out sets at Love Sensation, All Together Now and Forbidden Fruit. The autumnal arrival of his long-awaited follow-up to 2014’s In Flight, however, marks the most unexpectedly thrilling chapter yet in the Clare producer’s career, as he moves beyond from his image as a fiddle-wielding wunderkind to a rounded and complexly layered artist.

From the ambient opener ‘Take The Wheel’, featuring Bell X1’s Paul Noonan, Daithí immediately establishes L.O.S.S as a compelling alternative to the escapist electro-pop that’s earned him his formidable live reputation. Steeped in poignant reflections on life, loss and faith, the track introduces a sense of all-pervading, though not altogether hopeless, melancholy – creeping into even the album’s more high-energy moments.

Daithí isn’t totally ripping up the rulebook, however. His sounds continues to feed off the raw landscape of rural Ireland just as much as the pulsing heart of its urban club culture. From Ailbhe Reddy to Tandem Felix, he also maintains his crown as the king of collaboration – stressing the importance of community and alliance, even in the darkest of times. Still, these guest appearances don’t distract from L.O.S.S.’s overarching narrative, in which Daithí maintains a central role.

With a sensitive ear for pace and intricate layering, Daithí has carved out a compelling new path in Irish electronica.

Lucy O'Toole.

Mick Flannery – Mick Flannery (Rosaleen Records)

This, Mick Flannery’s sixth album in twelve years, comes off the back of the recent hometown premiering of his stage musical Evening Train, based on his 2007 debut, in Cork. Over those six albums and countless live gigs, Flannery has been revered by thousands of fans as a deeply soulful, introspective performer and emotive lyricist – and pigeon-holed by others as a superb Tom Waits tribute act. But the begrudgers can bark up another tree: Flannery’s eponymously-titled new collection of 11 tracks offers evidence of him sloughing off any Waits-ian traits, his voice shifting upwards and out with an appealing lightness.

There’s a fresh sense of intent about the confessional opening track ‘Wasteland’, where flawed humanity meets serious ambition, with half-spoken lines, expansive choir and orchestral sweep all preset and correct. There’s a relaxing touch of Van The Man about the melodic ‘There Must Be More’, proving that Flannery isn’t all about the words. The plaintive ‘Come Find Me’ sees him daringly team with California twosome ESCQ to seamlessly merge contemporary pop with the Flannery we’ve known and loved, while the skittering ‘Fool’ shows that quality indie-pop is far from alien to him. There’s a sense of Mark Knopfler hovering around ‘Light A Fire’ and its downbeat tale of the rock’n’roll lifestyle – which can be partnered with the nostalgic dissection of mercurial, infectious fame on ‘Star To Star’.

The production and arrangements nudge and prod but never get in Flannery’s way. The self-titling may be telling. Mick Flannery may enjoy inventing characters, but one suspects that he is too self-effacing a man, and too moral a musician, to hide his innermost feelings under a bushel forever. That much of the material deals with the challenges of the music life suggests that the title really does say it all. We should be thankful that he has so generously revealed the many sides of his humanity.

Jackie Hayden.

Fontaines D.C. – Dogrel (Parisan Records)

“My childhood was small, but I’m gonna be big,” screams Grian Chattan over a tub-thumping, feral punk workout. As introductions go, they don’t get much stronger than ‘Big’, the opener to Dogrel, the debut album from Dublin quintet Fontaines DC. It may last just one minute and 48 seconds, but it seems like something has monumentally shifted by the time the last note fades, and if you squint, you can almost see the ghosts of Paranoid Visions, The Pogues and Whipping Boy smiling appreciatively amid the murk.

Fontaines DC are quite the buzz band at the minute, having wowed all and sundry with their quintessentially Dublin brand of punk at South By South West, and signed to the same label as the force of nature that is Idles, who they support on a US tour in May. But there is substance behind the clamour, as they boys channel anger and aggression into some of the most visceral guitar music this country has produced in a generation.

The blueprint devised by chief songwriter and guitarist Carlos O’Connell isn’t new: take a bruising 4/4 beat, and add scorching guitar, slabs of bass and shouty vocals. But there’s a raw honesty to Fontaines’ bluster that makes it feel somehow fresh. There’s a genuine left-wing punk aesthetic in the ferocious assault of ‘Too Real’ and the snarled manifesto that is ‘Chequeless Reckless’, where Chattan defines his enemies: “A sell-out is someone who becomes a hypocrite in the name of money/ An idiot is someone who lets their education do all of their thinking/ A phony is someone who demands respect for the principles they affect/ A dilettante is someone who can’t tell the difference between fashion and style.” Dictionary in hand, it’s hard not to be impressed.

Their 2017 debut, ‘Liberty Belle’ sounds as box-fresh as it did the first time we heard it, and it’s almost impossible to listen to without your limbs jerking along spasmodically, while ‘Boys In The Better Land’ could be a lyrical anthem for a new generation: think Lizzy’s ‘The Boys Are Back In Town’ on PMA.

‘Television Screen’ proves that these young pups know their history, sharing its name with the first Irish punk single, The Radiators From Space’s 1977 debut. Then there’s the bruising bass encounter of ‘Hurricane Laughter’, the Ramones-on-Buckfast pogo of ‘Sha Sha Sha’ and the restrained ‘Roy’s Tune’, Chattan actually singing rather than growling his words for a change.

‘The Lotts’ expands the musical blueprint away from the relentless shoutathon, while the closing ‘Dublin City Sky’ could be a lost Pogues anthem, dripping with a sense of melancholy and regret that MacGowan would be proud of.

Turns out that first song was a little self-deprecating: big? They’re gonna be fuckin’ massive.

John Walshe.

Girl Band – The Talkies (Rough Trade Records)

Since revolutionising the Irish music scene with their raucous debut, Holding Hands With Jamie, back in 2015, Girl Band have boldly challenged us to rethink everything we know about the laws of sounds and the limitations of rock.

However, after lighting up a vibrant path for loud, innovative and unapologetically Irish guitar bands, Girl Band quietly stepped out of the spotlight two years ago, after a slate of cancelled tour dates triggered by mental health issues.

Escaping away to Ballintubbert House in Laois last autumn, they began a deeply experimental recording process, exploring sonic possibilities throughout the stately manor and its concrete basement – culminating in their long-awaited return, in the form of The Talkies.

Even a cursory listen to the dark and dissonant twists and turns of the album reveal that critical acclaim and accolades were never the goal here. Facing inner-demons head-on, The Talkies takes inspiration from Kendrick Lamar’s ‘For Sale?’, by opening with claustrophobia-inducing heavy breathing. Solace is found in Dara Kiely’s primal scream-influenced vocal style – a healthy release in a world of caged emotions and social stigma. Indeed, despite the intensity of their sound, which at times can feel like sheer violence, the lyrics expose a raw vulnerability, and a twisted, earthy humour, as Girl Band revel in the absurdity of the everyday – referencing everyone from Roald Dahl illustrator Quentin Blake to Sesame Street characters, and packing a surprisingly poignant punch all the while.

No track on The Talkies exemplifies the extremes of Girl Band's experimental approach quite like 'Aibohphobia' – a track that channels the dream sequence in Twin Peaks by featuring reversed recordings of lyrics sung backwards. If that's not hard enough to get your head around, Dara had the ingenious idea to write the lyrics in palindromes, resulting in some of the most brilliantly bizarre opening lines in modern music: "Acrobat stab orca/ Do geese see God?/ Party booby trap."

Expanding their sound into previously inconceivable territories on the likes of 'Akineton', 'Prefab Castle' and 'Aibohphobia', Girl Band have crafted a project that defies any attempts at easy categorisation – but cements their legacy as one of the most innovative bands of their generation.

Lucy O'Toole.

Jafaris – Stride (DFL)

If Jafaris’ reputation as a triple threat – actor, dancer, rapper – had already been forged by his 2017 EP Velvet Cake, the release of his debut album Stride is surefire confirmation: the boy has it. Jafaris, aka Percy Chamburuka, first made an impression as Ngig in 2016’s John Carney-helmed Sing Street, but he’s really made a name for himself through his energetic hip-hop bops and compelling videos.

With this 12-track effort, Jafaris makes it clear: he is one of Ireland’s top rappers. Whatever mood you’re in, there’s probably a song on Stride to suit. On the catchy and energetic ‘Invisible’, Jafaris throws down fast-paced lines with remarkable flair, while he takes a more introspective and soulful tone on ‘Brother’s Keeper’ and ‘God’s Not Stupid’. Elsewhere, concert-ready songs like ‘Found My Feet’, ‘Time’ and ‘Temple’ come in such quick succession, they’re impossible to resist. Meanwhile, the rapper’s lyrics throughout are honest and witty, giving a window into his thoughts and experiences.

Jafaris’ personality and artistic vision separate him from the rest of the pack, and on Stride, elevate him to the front rank of young Irish artists. We weren’t disappointed – and his fans won’t be either.

Lucas Dean.

Junior Brother – Pull The Right Rope (Strange Brew)

With his unpolished Irish singing, Ronan Kealy – aka Junior Brother – sets himself apart from other young Irish artists. Though produced at Ailfionn Studios in Drumcondra, his debut LP Pull The Right Rope has a wonderfully rural and gothic feel.

His strength is in building immersive soundscapes out of small fragments. Most tracks find the singer accompanying himself on twangy acoustic guitar and foot tambourine; however, on tunes such as ‘Coping’ and ‘Full Of Wine’, he utilises all the different sounds a mouth can produce – experimenting with tempo, volume and even wails. When combined with his dynamic guitar playing, the results are often remarkable.

He’s also a skilled songwriter. Featuring extra instrumentation in the form of deep sorrowful fiddles, break-up ballad ‘The Back Of Her’ benefits from its idiosyncratic imagery, as he recalls “Watching the moon from a lake reflection ruined by swans…”. Meanwhile, album highlight ‘You Will Know My Name’ has a cinematic feel reminiscent of Nick Cave: “Your teeth grind and tremble at the stories of your shame/ Once you feel these twisting fingers you will know my name.”

Overall, Junior Brother’s debut is very much like rural Ireland: raw and stark – but very beautiful.

Stephen Porzio.

Lankum – The Livelong Day (Rough Trade Records)

Few contemporary artists epitomise the integrity and authenticity at the heart of great folk music quite like Lankum. True to the title of their previous LP, the Dublin four-piece’s sound exists somewhere Between The Earth And The Sky – embracing both earthy, human grit and intangible, otherworldly textures.

With their new record, The Livelong Day, the group have re-emerged with a deepened sense of maturity and mortality, culminating in a project of uniquely raw intensity – and undoubtedly one of the finest releases of the year.

Lankum’s trademark organic ambience is brought to thrilling, sometimes terrifying, new heights, courtesy of their honorary fifth member, engineer and producer John “Spud” Murphy. Experimental instrumentation and playing include stunning appearances from the harmonium, mellotron, trombone and, most notably on ‘Hunting The Wren’, whatever else happened to be lying around the studio at the time.

Capturing the wily anarchy that’s always been an integral aspect of Irish folk music, the group handle inherited songs like ‘The Wild Rover’ and ‘The Dark Eyed Gypsy’ with immense respect – but they are never precious. As with their previous releases, ancient sounds and haunting drones are used as a vehicle to express modern issues and to explore the human condition – with ‘The Young People’, a rousing ballad about suicide, packing a slow-building, but ultimately devastating, blow.

Yet, despite fearlessly confronting these darker moments of our past and present, there’s also a deep, resounding love encased within the music throughout the album – with Radie Peat’s tenderly earthy vocals embodying the Irish landscape and people to stunning effect.

A remarkable and urgent reminder to celebrate the livelong days. Long live Lankum.

Lucy O'Toole.

SOAK – Grim Town (Rough Trade Records)

If you’ve ever been to any of the train station stop-offs in Northern Ireland, you’ll have heard the dead-toned voice that blares from the speakers telling you “the 14.01 to Bangor is delayed” or “no smoking is permitted in carriages”.

One such voice opens the first track in SOAK’s second album Grim Town. Only in this world, the voice makes clear “This train is for the following passengers only: Recipients of universal credit or minimum wage. The lonely, the disenfranchised, the disillusioned, the grieving.” No one with pensions, no one with security, goes to Grim Town.

The last SOAK album had its own imaginative worlds. There, the singer turned her native Derry City inside-out with her ethereal dreamscapes. She took us wandering down corridors of the mind where love, uniqueness, difference resided – previously unseen and unspoken.

Grim Town is a bigger world. Here, people deal with the absurd notion of being normal human beings – not as easy as it sounds for the kid in ‘Get Set Go Kid’, who seems baffled by Sertraline, middle city apartments and awkward social situations, while a jingling happy-haunted sound works under the listener’s skin. “You did it, you’re alive!” is the refrain that comes as the song kicks up a gear three minutes in, and everything after sounds like something Thom Yorke might’ve written in the Radiohead glory days.

In Grim Town, desire can be jealousy – can be a curse – especially for the speaker in ‘Everybody loves you’. In Grim Town, house parties can be boring and soulless, but they can also have a weird, alluring sacredness to them, as in ‘I Was Blue, Technicolour Too’.

Here, people make do with the best parts they can, as in ‘Scrapyard’, but they can also contemplate the possibility of “mak[ing] another you”. In more on-the-nose instances, ‘Valentine Shmalentine’ exposes the corporate, image-obsessed heart behind modern love in Grim Town, with a simple yet spine-tingling chorus slicing through the Hallmark sentiments to say: “I need you/I just do.”

SOAK’s first album had her otherworldy voice pulling small moments from the ephemera and penning them before they flew away, all back by a sparse production. There’s a more involved, layered production element. ‘Falling Asleep, Backseat’ stands out because it has some spectacular jazz, piano and percussion strains running through it. The more involved sound – in turn – tests the strength and timbre and emotion of SOAK’s voice, and she rises to the occasion.

There’s so much to enjoy here and for so many different reasons. ‘Knock Me Off My Feet’ opens with the synth-pop of New Order, and goes on to contain one of SOAK’s catchiest hooks to date. ‘Maybe’ feels like an indie spin on a Bryan Adams riff. You could throw in Belinda Carlisle, Banarama, Death Cab For Cutie and Foals and you wouldn’t come close to guessing at what SOAK must’ve been listening to when thinking about this album. She’s outdone herself on multiple levels.

Final song ‘Nothing Looks The Same’ brings Grim Town to a sort of resolution. We’re on the same train as the first song, but now the singer has “changed the frame” – and maybe things aren’t so grim from a different perspective.

What a journey. A true triumph.

Peter McGoran

Maija Sofia – Bath Time (Trapped Animal Records)

In the four years since her debut solo EP, The Sugar Sea, Maija Sofia has built up a powerful reputation on the back of consistently stunning releases. The Galwegian genre-splicer is now gearing up to cement her legacy with the release of her full-length debut, Bath Time.

Exploring the women forgotten by history, the album is led by moving singles ‘The Glitter’, which is inspired by the life and work of Carribean-born novelist Jean Rhys, and ‘Edie Sedgwick’, titled after the American socialite largely remembered as a muse of Andy Warhol.

Elsewhere, she explores our own tragic history on 'The Wife of Michael Cleary' – chronicling the death of Bridget Cleary, who was killed by her husband in the late nineteenth century, after he thought she was a changeling.

Through a distinctly a DIY ethos, and a revolutionary approach to folk music, Maija has established herself as one of Ireland's most compelling young songwriters.

Sorcha Richardson – First Prize Bravery (Faction Records)

Sorcha Richardson’s debut had been in the offing for quite time. Boasting a multi-million-streaming presence on Spotify, the singer has been releasing indie-pop earworms for several years. An LP, though, always remained around the corner. Well, the waiting is over. Recorded over a month in LA with long-term producer Alex Casnoff, First Prize Bravery is about as coherent a debut album as you can get.

Telling the story of Sorcha’s life between New York and Dublin over the course of several months, the album is about the minutiae – and the social politics – of relationships and friendships, and what it means to negotiate these whilst being constantly on the move.

As with any good situational drama, the joy is in the small details. On opener ‘Honey’ – a stripped-back, heart-on-sleeve number – she sings about an encounter with a mysterious “you” that left her questioning everything. But it’s the imagery that wins you over: “I watched you move around the room/ You’re more magnetic than the moon/ That hangs above the balcony/ As you make your way back to me.”

This trend of careful, meaningful description is sustained throughout, even as Sorcha incorporates different musical styles. With consummate skill, she moves from the punchy riffs of ‘Don’t Talk About It’, to the bubbling synths and piano melodies of ‘Oh Oscillator’, and the back-to-basics guitar chords of ‘High In The Garden’.

The joy is that it all works. Every song, in fact, boasts stellar production. So catchy is the title track, it’s easy to overlook just how exquisitely constructed it is. As the song commences, Richardson’s echoing vocals gradually emerge into the foreground. Thereafter, the tune folds layers of acoustic guitars, piano melodies and dreamy synths into a readymade pop hit. Exemplifying the overall attention to detail, the line “I heard the crunch of your heels on the stones in the driveway” is duly followed by skittering percussion.

Everything, of course, is a foil to Richardson’s voice, which can only be described as laidback liquid gold. It draws you into these personal situations, and lays them out like an open diary, judgement-free.

Bravery indeed. This is a superb record.

Peter McGoran.