Situated amidst the roar of stag dos and Central European tourists lying drunken on the wet cobblestones of Temple Bar there is a quiet anticipation in the Button Factory. Inside, ambient electronic music fills the near empty hall as a line of people gather by the thick metal guardrails to ensure they get a good view. The room continues to fill until there is little space left for those weaving their way to and from the bar. The quiet anticipation grows as some drink and chat whilst others stare to the stage waiting for any sign of activity. Bradford Cox…
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If there’s anything eerie about this year’s Halloween it’s that conditions are strangely perfect. It’s a full blooded weekend night for one, and there’s barely a chill in the air; meaning that all the naughty princesses, sexy bunnies, near naked pandas and skimpy pirates can saunter to their respective engagements without the usual fear of hypothermia. Maybe that’s why The Academy is looking a bit neglected come eight o’clock when Talos take the stage. There’s a few scattered ambassadors for the night that’s in it; a convincing Juno, a noteworthy War Boy and a swaggering Dorian Gray but there’s a…
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Fishing boats come in and out, young men and women in wetsuits ride slices of polyurethane on foamy waves and dogs run after luminous tennis balls on the sandy beach. The coastline has potential for escape but the oppressiveness of being surrounded by the sea can take its toll. The Atlantic North-West’s SlowPlaceLikeHome manage to walk this line between an oppressiveness and freedom. Album opener ‘Our Rules’ starts off with the synth taking the lead and allowing Mannion to take the song in directions you wouldn’t expect but which don’t feel jarring to the listener. The song ends with the…
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Hailing from the same stable as Crossy Road and Pac-Man 264, this neat little portable shooter is the kind of game that will lose jobs and ruins marriages. It epitomises the “just one go” quality that is at the heart of all games with a little bit of magic in them, and is clearly crafted with care, attention to detail and an enormous sense of fun. Essentially an affectionate nod to the best blast-‘em-ups from the past thirty years, Shooty Skies has the simplest of premises: you move left, right, up and down, and annihilate every enemy that gets in…
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Eccentric Greek auteur, Yorgos Lanthimos, brings his dark and distinctive style to a much wider audience with his English-language debut, The Lobster. Happily though, more money and an incredible array of stars hasn’t seen Lanthimos compromise an inch in this beautiful, pitch black oddity. Set in a near future, which is minimalist and classicist in form- the world itself is completely recognisable to the audience- it is the rules of society that have been contorted and changed in The Lobster. David (Colin Farrell, at his deadpan best) finds himself alone after his wife leaves him for another man and, in line…
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In an ideal world, the title of a record would tell you everything you need to know. Maybe not in the literal sense, as you’d wonder how many copies of Nickelback’s latest LP, 12 Generic Cobain Aping Songs, would sell. Everything I Lost, the debut album from Dublin folk group The Annulments is a great example of a name perfectly fitting an album. In three simple words, the phrase is able to evoke this incredibly personal sense of longing, sadness and pathos, yet is vague enough to apply in any context: loss of love, financial security or even a sense…
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Father John Misty’s sold out show in Galway’s Roisín Dubh on Thursday the 22nd of October fell during the same week as the city’s Comedy Festival. This proved interesting for two reasons; the first of which being that none of the venue’s bigger, alternative buildings were available for the show, resulting in a perhaps uncharacteristically intimate gig for Josh Tillman’s self-defining moniker. Secondly, it made for a curious observation as to what people really get out of watching a performance of any kind. When watching a comedy show people obviously are out to laugh until their cheeks hurt, to be…
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The last time I saw New Jersey’s Yo La Tengo live was in Dublin’s Tripod nearly six year ago. It was a night when all those in attendance bore witness to a barrage of unadulterated noise accompanied by a raw and energetic performance. What occurs tonight from Hoboken’s favourite anti-heroes couldn’t have been further from that night if it tried. The quartet of Ira Kaplan, Dave Schramm, Georgia Hubley and James McNew casually enter the fray a few minutes after their scheduled start time, zigzag their way between various pieces of standing artwork and settle into position. Tonight’s set up…
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Fuzz II is everything a good sequel should be. It’s the band’s Aliens, their Terminator 2 – bigger, bolder, ballsier and noisier than its predecessor but retaining the conventions that made that record great. With this release Fuzz once again harness the cosmic powers of Black Sabbath, Deep Purple, Hawkwind and a thousand gnarly garage bands, and the transmutation is a gratifyingly dense entanglement of heavy rock riffing and oppressive themes. Charles Moothart, Chad Ubovich, and the ubiquitous Ty Segall form a formidable triptych, and their second outing builds Cyclopean blocks on the first record’s foundation. Fuzz II slowly spatters…
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‘Contains the use of performing-enhancing drugs’ warns the title card of The Program, John Hodge and Stephen Frears’ unpacking of the Lance Armstrong myth, and it ain’t joking. Doping paraphernalia and vocab comes at the viewer thick and fast: drips, syringes, tubes, platelets, red and white cells and liquids in tiny bottles with too many syllables on the label. Blood is drawn, test results are cooked and dodgy equipment stuffed out of sight, with Team Armstrong and the anti-doping watchdogs locked in an arms race of detection and evasion. Cycling isn’t about lungs and legs, insists the opening voiceover of Ben Foster’s Armstrong,…