The look of the Irish!

BLINK

Of all the bands appearing at The Venue next weekend Blink are arguably the furthest removed from the popular (mis)conception of Irish bands as guitar-fixated visionaries forever gazing off into some vague horizon. An electro-Indie outfit with a keen Pop sensibility, Blink do however embody traits of resilience and determination which are intrinsic to the Irish character.

Formed from the core members of the quirky Rex And Dino in 1990, Blink slaved away in rehearsal and recording studios for over a year before venturing anywhere near a stage. ‘Going To Nepal’ was the highlight of their second demo and the song so impressed the organisers of the 1992 New Music Seminar that the band were invited to appear in New York and found their track sharing CD space with the likes of U2 and Sinead O’Connor on an Irish compilation to mark that year’s contribution from the Emerald Isle’s contingent.

The inevitable interest from record and publishing companies followed but Blink fielded all offers until Irish EMI subsidiary Lime came up with the right terms. Former Undertone John O’Neill volunteered his services as producer and by early spring 1993 ‘Going To Nepal’ was nestling comfortably in the Irish Top 20.

Marrying a naggingly Oriental melody line with a floor-friendly rhythm track and Dermot Lambert’s unique voice intoning psychedelic nursery rhyme lyrics, ‘Going To Nepal’ was just one of the songs which impressed Carter USM when Blink supported them in Dublin, to the extent that Jim Bob and Fruitbat had no hesitation in inviting Dermot & Co along for their winter tour of Britain. The tour was a grueller, albeit one which established Blink in the public eye, but there was to be no rest for either the weary or the wicked (Lips are sealed as to who qualifies for which category after the Carter jaunt!) for less than three days after they hit the hay the quartet were back in London to record their debut album with Gong guru and Ambient avatar Steve Hillage at the controls.

During the summer Hillage had helmed Blink’s second single – the obscenely breezy ‘Happy Day’ – and word from the camp indicates that, despite the studio being located miles from a pub of any description, the sessions went extremely well, with the finished product due to hit the shelves in March. It’s been a long learning process for Blink, but they now have the experience and hunger to capitalise on their obvious Pop charms.

1994 could be a very interesting year indeed.

• George Byrne

THE PALE

TRYING TO sum up what The Pale are all about in less the 400 words is almost as futile an exercise as trying to find the logic behind England’s last World Cup campaign, so let’s just settle for ‘pop with an edge’ and point you in the direction of ‘Dog With No Tail’, ‘Butterfly’, ‘Mother Nature’ and the other three minute gems which have already booked the Dublin quartet a permanent place in Irish hearts.

And, although modesty forbids him from bragging, it ought to be pointed out that lead singer Matthew Devereux has earned himself the reputation of being a sexy old divil.

“Yeah, yeah,” he admits reluctantly, “I’ve had my eyes opened, I’ve had my eyes opened sexually, and I’ve had my legs opened. But I’ve had my heart opened, too. But, you know, if I can be honest with you, it’s ultimately all about friendship, friendship with people outside the sexual relationship. I’ve wanted to befriend more people than I’ve wanted to sleep with, to tell you the truth, and I’ve always had problems with several male friends because ahmm, you know the bravado thing. It’s all about display.”

If you require further enlightenment on these or any other matters of a sexually political nature, then the recent Pale EP should give you plenty of food for thought – or whatever else it is you get up to in the privacy of your own home.

Before we depart, is there any more of the band’s rumpy pumpy philosophy that Matthew would like to share with us?

“Sex can sour intimacy,” he confides. “Foreplay can exist without intercourse. When sex is dropped into the Catholic soup it sours it. I’m still like suffering retrospectively from Catholicism in school and the heterosexuality I had pounded into me with a hammering. It’s been really restrictive.

“I say how I feel sexually, artistically but it gets quite scary.”

Like I say, 400 words just isn’t enough. So what you gotta do is . . . listen!

• Stuart Clark

PET LAMB

MENTION THE name Pet Lamb outside of Dublin hardcore circles and the looks you’ll get are likely to be blanker than a hermit’s address book.

Not surprising, really. To date, the band have rarely strayed beyond their own backyard and with just a couple of low-key EPs to their name, they’ve hardly made a concerted effort to capture the heads, hearts and feet of the indie masses.

If that makes them sound like an outfit going nowhere fast, then don’t be fooled. Pet Lamb may currently be wallowing in obscurity but that’s because they’ve chosen to do so until they’ve honed their craft to perfection – which could be now.

“We’ve seen loads of groups leaving Ireland as ‘hometown heroes’,” explains singer and guitarist Dylan, “and dying a death abroad because they’re simply not ready to take it any further. We’ve spent the past two-and-a-half-years playing good gigs, bad gigs and some inbetween ones, and generally learning from our mistakes. I’m not saying that Pet Lamb are the best band in the world but put us on any stage and we’ll give value for money.”

That belief in Pet Lamb’s abilities is shared by Andy Cairns, the Therapy? man taking a fatherly interest in them from pretty much day one and even putting up his own money to help finance their records.

“We’ve never looked for favours off of Therapy?,” stresses Dylan, “but Andy’s involvement in our label, Blunt, has opened a lot of doors and brought Pet Lamb to the attention of people who’d otherwise have been slow to pick up on us. That mightn’t necessarily have worked in our favour if we sounded the same but listen to either of our EPs and you’ll realise we’re not Therapy? clones.”

Whereas last year’s Paranoid From The Neck Down four-tracker offered, dare I say it, a short sharp shock to the system, Pet Lamb’s current Spent offering is as well endowed with melody as it is with cheesegrater riffs and has already raised more than a few corporate eyebrows.

“All it takes is a couple of good reviews in the music press and before you know it, half the world’s A&R population is camping on your doorstep which is pretty flattering, I guess, but not to be taken over-seriously.

“The EP came out in Ireland before Christmas but as we’ve only just arranged cross-channel distribution through Revolver/APT, it won’t be available in the UK until January 24th which fits in perfectly with The Venue gig. John Peel’s heard it and obviously likes it because he’s offered us a session and, yeah, one or two companies have shown an interest.”

Pet Lamb’s live prowess was brought into sharp focus by their recent Dublin support to Therapy?, a gig which saw Dylan and the lads working the moshpit overtime.

“We had to go on early, so the back of the hall was fairly threadbare, but we still had a gang of people down the front who knew all the words and it struck me then that we mightn’t have been wrong giving up the day jobs.”

And there you have it – an early contender for Understatement of the Year!

• Stuart Clark

EMPEROR OF ICE CREAM

THEY MAY – as they themselves admit, I hasten to add – have a bloody silly name and come from Cork but that doesn’t mean that Emperor of Ice Cream are the Sultans of Ping’s second XI.

Far from it. The Leesiders’ own patented brand of high-octane guitar noise was enough to land them a Sony deal before they were even a dozen gigs old and with the release of their debut Overflow EP last April, the Emperor’s demonstrated that they’re not prepared to live in anyone’s shadow – least of all their illustrious neighbour’s.

Since that original statement of intent, the band have relocated to London where they’ve happily played every toilet, closet and front room that will have them.

The benefit of this due-paying is evident in their second EP, William, which combines the raw power of its predecessor with the sort of melodic sensibility that most indie-minded types would give their left nose-rings for. Now the band are preparing for their slot on The Irish Are Coming bill like a bunch of feisty outsiders who’ve made it to the FA Cup Final. They’ve got everything to play for, Brian!

Get your moshing shorts dry-cleaned, make sure there’s plenty of spring in your Air Jordans and prepared to be Iced!

• Stuart Clark

Engine Alley

Now permanently based in London, Engine Alley boast one of the most visually and musically extravagant live shows ever to have emerged from Ireland, a fun-fest which doesn’t rely on whizz-bang tricks for its impact but rather on the power of their ideas and the conviction of their performance.

The spills and thrills of this set was more than adequately captured on their outstanding debut, originally titled A Sonic Holiday, which has already become a sort of benchmark in Irish pop terms. Aside from scooping a Smithwicks/Hot Press Album of the Year Award, A Sonic Holiday did much else to spread the Engine Alley gospel, scoring a particularly high level of success, commercially and critically, in Australia of all places.

Though often described as “a Kilkenny band,” only three members actually hail from that feline county (to wit, Canice Kenealy, his brother Brian, and Eamonn Byrne) – drummer Emmaline Duffy-Fallon is actually from Kimmage in Dublin and Ken ‘The Orchestra’ Rice was born and raised in Kerry. Even more pertinently Engine Alley as a unit really came together first in Brixton almost four years ago when Canice, Brian and Eamonn were working their way around various building sites in order to raise the cash to buy instruments. Asked to define themselves, however, the five-piece prefer not to speak in geographical terms at all. “We’re a pop band, pure and simple,” insists Emmaline.

1993 was predominantly a year of consolidation for Engine Alley. They gigged extensively and expanded their fanbase, especially in the UK, and they spent considerable time working on new material for their eagerly-awaited second album which is due for release during the coming months.

Glamour, melody, irony and humour are qualities that have been in sparse supply in recent years while the dour Grunge monster has had it all its own way. Now, however, that situation seems to be changing and a new dandified dawn appears to be looming in the distance. Engine Alley are perfectly placed to bask in its earliest rays.

The next twelve months could add up to a big year for the Alley cats. There hasn’t been a better time to catch them in action.

• Liam Fay

Big Geraniums

The Big Geraniums are one of the most accomplished proponents of that oft-maligned genus, feel-good raggle-taggle. Where others felt that a mere toot on the flute, twiddle on the fiddle or a loud whooooo! was enough to allow them claim a “Celtic spirituality,” The Big Geraniums have always opted for a more organic approach, constructing songs that are truly life-affirming, celebratory and soulful.

Nowhere has this been more clearly evinced than in their live shows which are always roof-raising and heart-thumping affairs. Wherever they play, you can always be sure that a hooley is on the cards.

An ever-expanding membership policy has also meant that it’s never been easy to keep tracks on the Geraniums, and that’s exactly the way they like it. There has, however, been one stalwart member whose presence has added a sense of continuity and cohesion. I refer, of course, to the official Geraniums mascot, Oscar the dog.

Their debut album, Short Stories and Tall Tales, was released in late 1992, and went some way towards capturing the live Geraniums swagger on record. Now without a record label, however, the band has had a relatively low profile in recent months, but an opportunity to see them at full throttle and in full formation should not be missed.

Big bands don’t come much bigger.

• Liam Fay

Whipping Boy

After DOing the Vibe For Philo in Dublin recently, Whipping Boy have their hearts set on returning to their roots. “The British scene is dead and boring,” Fergie confidently proclaims. “America’s alive but it’s burning. Kildare is where it’s at, man!”

Colm nods in agreement. (Being from Kildare, why wouldn’t he?) He’s decided to return to the land, having been left an acre and three-quarters by his Granny, who sadly died recently while freaking out at a Whipper Boy (that’s what she liked to call them) gig. (“What a way to go! What a way to go!” were reputedly her last ecstatic words.)

Naturally, Colm was heart-broken that “the miserable bollocks” only left him a miserly acre and three-quarters. “Still,” he asserts, “you can grow an awful lot of potatoes on an acre and three-quarters. Even if it is boggy as fuck.” Miley nods in agreement. He’s decided to lay down his bass and give Colm a hand with the spade.

“There’s great money to be made in potatoes,” he says, deep wisdom etched into his every word. “That’s what Colm tells me anyhow.” Fergie disagrees. “Sheep farming is a far more interesting bet,” he claims. “There’s amazing things you can do with sheep.”

Back to the land. Back to basics. That’s it for the Whipping Boy. They’ve gripped the leg of rock ‘n’ roll long enough, and got kicked in the teeth long enough, to know that they don’t need nobody else. That it was what they had back in those Underground days which made them ride the flock rather than shuffle with them. Which made them spit and spew with energy and excitement. Which made them one of the few bands in Ireland worth getting ridden by.

Because this is 1994 and Whipping Boy are ready. Long years out to pasture (or so it seemed) have left them wiser and wilder. Ready to strut their manic stuff and expand minds with sledge hammer sound if need be. Or with melody. Because we better not forget that.

It’s 1994, and Whipping Boy are up. A single will be out in March, followed by an extensive Irish tour. Followed by . . .Well, we better not speak about the divil yet. But expect to hear a helluva lot more from them during these 365 days.

That is of course if they stop taking Shane MacGowan and The Pogues and Christy Moore — “Up Kildare!” shouts Fergie — and Planxty — and yes, all ye hip suckers — The Sawdoctors, too literally. But, let’s face it, potato picking is a dead-end job. And sheep farming is about as exciting as sheep shagging. (“It’s fuckin’ great,” Fergie butts in defensively. “Have ye ever fuckin’ tried it!?”)

Colm shakes his head decisively. “Fuck potatoes. I’m gonna sell the acre an’ a quarter. Should get me a new drum kit anyway.” Miley looks stunned, turns to Paul, who looks bemused at all the shite talk, puts his arms around him and bursts into tears. “Miley, Miley,” Colm intones softly. “You’re far better on the bass. An’ this is our year!”

Fergie raises his fist, then slams it off the table, knocking over four glasses of milk. “This is our year!” he shouts. “This is our rock ‘n’ roll fuckin’ year!”

• Gerry McGovern

The Revenants

It’s perhaps no great coincidence that the dictionary definition of a revenant is ‘one who returns . . . particularly from the dead’ as many had doubted Stephen Ryan’s desire for a return to the rock ’n’ roll arena following the demise of his previous band The Stars Of Heaven.

And yet over the past three years The Revenants have developed from an occasional, knockabout bar band blasting out cover versions of songs by the likes of Neil Young, Alex Chilton, Richard Thompson, The Go-Betweens and The Vulgar Boatmen (don’t ask unless you’ve a spare hour or two on your hands!) for the sheer hell of hearing guitars at full pelt through valve amps into a vehicle for Stephen’s songs which seems even more custom-designed that the previous model.

The Revenants’ debut album Horse Of A Different Colour marked the inception of Hunter S. Records and displayed Stephen Ryan’s way with turning the not ostensibly titanic traumas of everyday existence (Drink, Love, Despair, Drink . . . the usual suspects) into evocative elegies. The plaintive qualities of Ryan’s voice add to The Revenants’ subtleties but behind the wistful words a guitar-fuelled tempest rages. Doug Steen leads the Marshall meltdown, aided and abetted by the classically solid rhythm section of Jeremy Hardy and Chris Heaney, while Don Ryan embellishes the string-slashing with appropriate piano motifs.

Traditional though their chosen musical territory may be, and the influences which inspired the band from the outset still echo throughout their own material, The Revenants add a twist of insight which lifts their songs beyond any ‘good-time’ accusations. ‘Let’s Get Falling Down’, ‘The Drinking Side Of Me’ and ‘Marry Money’ can certainly hit the most basic buttons in any barfly boogie buff but there’s always more going on than initially appears. Meanwhile slower songs like ‘Capercaille’ and the shimmering ‘Speak Slowly’ recall the type of quiet majesty not heard from an Irish band since . . . well, The Stars Of Heaven if truth be told.

The legacy of Stephen Ryan’s former band certainly hasn’t been forgotten, with Dublin label Mickey Rourke’s Fridge having almost completed the compilation of a Stars’ tribute album featuring versions of songs by, among others, Fatima Mansions, Everything But The Girl, Brian, Engine Alley, Something Happens and The Golden Horde.

Sterling material, a gung-ho guitar assault and zero fashion sense haven’t exactly been bankable assets on the British live circuit these past few years but even if The Revenants’ most hospitable habitat does prove to be across the Atlantic it’ll be interesting to see how an audience reacts to such qualities being displayed by a band who aren’t American.

Time to rev up, methinks!

• George Byrne

GISSA A GIG

BOOKING-AGENT John McGeady has been running gigs at the Venue since it first opened four years ago and while he’s worked with every type of act you can imagine, he gets a special kick out of putting on Irish bands.

“Maybe I’m biased because my parents are from there,” he laughs, “but I always find Irish groups to be extremely professional and easy-going. As one of London’s medium-sized venues, we get a lot of bands here who are building a following and it’s been great seeing the likes of the Franks and the Sultans coming across without a fan to their names and ending up on Top of the Pops.

“The strength of this particular bill is its depth and diversity which, I reckon, reflects the current state of health of the Irish music industry. The UK’s gone a bit stale but if you look at Cork or Dublin or Galway or wherever, there’s plenty of interesting stuff happening.”

From his own experience, John warns Irish bands against trying to emulate their hipper British counterparts.

“Musicians definitely over-estimate the power of the press. We were one of the few places that’d give The Levellers a gig when they started. The weeklies crucified them – but look at them now, they’re the biggest draw in the country. People aren’t sheep, they’re intelligent enough to make their own judgements and what’s unfashionable today could end up being the success story of next month or next year.”

Out of the current crop of Irish hopefuls, who does John see as having the potential to break big in ‘94?

“Blink and Engine Alley have both played here to very good crowds, even though they didn’t have much of a profile at the time. They’ve got their songs and attitude sussed, so they’d be top of the list for starters.

“Really, though,” he concludes, “there are eight bands appearing over the two nights, all of whom are capable of going places.”

• Stuart Clarkv