Follow me on Twitter @johnkellytweets
Here's one from the archives. The View Presents Neil & Duke.
Watch The Philip Lynott Archive at RTÉ.ie →
Just thinking about that Philip Lynott show tonight and I found this:
The event begins with a glass of wine at 6.30pm – the lecture starts at 7pm and is followed by discussion. Tickets are available in advance from The National Gallery.
It’s a 40 minute talk and taking alot of time to prepare. We're not sure Bono will be there in person but I’ve promised to send him a copy if he can’t make it. I’m a great fan of both Louis and Bono so hope to see you there on 3rd. Please don’t ask me any hard questions!
Update: The National Gallery have added a video of the talk to their YouTube channel.
We had a lot of good times when he lived in Dublin – we presented many shows together on Radio Ireland, Today FM and RTE - which you can find here.
Kate Ellis - cellist, member of the Crash Ensemble, Ensemble ICC and Yurodny. Kate is also one of the curators behind the highly successful monthly musical salon Kaleidoscope which showcases Ireland's most exceptional talent by taking classical music out of concert halls and into late night clubs.
Here she performs 'Sondas' by Niall Vallely.
Why Mahler? by Norman Lebrecht is published by Faber & Faber.
Book review published in The Sunday Business Post in 2010.
Where to begin with a colossus like Gustav Mahler? According to Norman Lebrecht the best approach is to address him in the present continuous, as a man of our own time. Mahler, he argues, is a composer for today and his music is perfectly pitched for a world constantly adjusting to high-speed developments, many of which are carriers of threat, confusion and fear. The music works in such a climate because it can mean several things at once, and yet it cannot equivocate. “It comes at you from afar,” says Lebrecht, “like the light at the end of a tunnel, an irresistible destination.” In short, Lebrecht is saying that Mahler speaks to us like no other composer, and his music is good for what ails you. Name your crisis and he’ll proscribe you a symphony.
But here is a piece which reflected how I felt as the news came through from the Crescent City. It’s not very polished. Hurried, scattered but heartfelt.
In Bob Dylan’s book Chronicles, he talks with a poet’s precision about the magic of New Orleans. He describes it as a place where there is something joyful behind every door. Either that, he says, or somebody with their head in their hands. The atmosphere, he continues, “pulsates with bygone duels, past-life romance, comrades requesting comrades to aid them in some way. You can’t see it, but you know it’s there.” After what has just happened to (or been inflicted upon) New Orleans, one can only wonder how something as elusive as this magic can possibly survive.
Few interviewers get quite so engrossed in the conversation that they forget to mention it either, but that’s just the way of it with Brian Eno – smarter than your average sonic pioneer and far too polite for anything as brutal as a plug.
Eno is a one-man multi-media adventure and his CV would take the eye out of your head. A founding member of Roxy Music, producer of Talking Heads, Devo and U2, collaborator with everyone from Fripp to Bowie, inventor of ambient music, installation artist, painter, diarist and connoisseur of construction work. Quite simply, he never stops being Brian Eno.
OK. Will Oldham is an acquired taste. His thin, quavering voice is that of someone without a note in his head. His production is lo-fi to the point of being lazy and slip-shod, and if that doesn’t finish you off, his subject matter will forever frighten the horses of your mind. In fact you’d be tempted to leave him well alone if it wasn’t for the fact that he writes songs that are beautiful beyond belief. His most recent recording Ease Down the Road made under the alias of Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy is slightly more up-beat than previous offerings, but its still unmistakably the stuff of that uneasy Oldham imagination.
It’s the month of May in the city of Paris and Lou Reed is singing White Christmas. It’s as good an impression of the high-pitched vocal dramatics of Clyde Mc Phatter as you’re likely to hear and suddenly we’re laughing – in both senses of the word. Turns out the man with the fearsome reputation is as nice as ninepence and we’re getting along just fine. Such are the stories about Lou Reed interviews that I’d been having worrying premonitions of silence, a stand up row and an empty tape. But then, you shouldn’t believe everything you hear about a celebrity – especially a walking urban myth like Lou Reed. Everything’s cool. We’re talking about music and the music he fell in love with.