大象传媒

That's right, people. It's the City Hall, Belfast. The monumental home of our respected elders and feuding forefathers. Traditionally, it's been regarded as out-of-bounds for the 'kids', obliging our young freaks to parade outside, every Saturday. But tonight, y'know, it rocks.

You could argue that there's some kind of a change in the aether, a new tolerance and a respect for people who make unconventional noises. After all, it's the piano bashers and guitar manglers who have given the city so much good publicity, despite the wreckers elsewhere.

So tonight, ATL is throwing a party in the Great Hall, and inviting some of our Scottish mates to bring the additional sparkle. It all feels unfamiliar and fresh, which is entirely the point. And hey, why not broadcast it live for the extra value?

Kowalski are making jokes about the pressure of their opening slot, and shaking those fringes with intent. The guitars play jerky little chords and 'See Saw' sounds a little bit like The Cure at their most lonesome. 'Sunshine State' starts with abstract rhythms and it grows into a roaring, last-chance power drive.

Duke Special has been dropping into the schedules all year. He's played some cool gigs, but importantly, he's giving off charm and surprise, delivering proper events. Tonight, he's in front of the black drapes, before a partisan crowd, stomping out 'Everybody Wants A Little Something' and 'Brixton Leaves' while Ray blows the trumpet and sings the best harmonies. Tonight's surprise is a version of the Roy Orbison trembler, 'I Drove all Night' and true to form, he sings it like some spiritual declaration, name-checking his local vistas of Sydenham and the Holywood Road.

Popup take a sideways slant that's already found them in the Arctic Monkey's bag. Fair enough, the band is parochial and proud, bending those words into Damien's funny-fierce vernacular. They probably owe as much to The Buzzcocks and even The Hidden Cameras for that twitchy abandon, and it's likely to take them further still.

How adorable are the Dykeenies? It's something to do with the Brian's fake-fur Ruskie hat, the barely comprehensible patter, the squawk of the keyboards and the way that the Henderson boys throw heroic shapes. They have an undented spirit and the songs are apparently terrific.

Iain Archer is intimate with the Belfast and Glasgow scenes. He's real proof of the musical accord that we're talking up tonight, and there's no need to labour the point. Instead there's the chance to be moved by new songs such as 'Minus Ten' and 'Canal Song' and to remember the awful tumult and explosions of 'When It Kicks It'. After a purely morose 'Summer Jets' he welcomes up Peter from Duke Special and together they warble a joint composition, 'Worst Of The Best Of Times', plus a seasonal 'Little Drummer Boy', including the surreal third verse.

Actually, it's all been rather surreal. It's a chance to celebrate our city, our kin, our music. The Great Hall has seen a few barneys in its time, but this has been exceptional and sweet.


Stuart Bailie
Photos by Stuart Bailie