Marc Ribot at Café Oto, 22/01/2018

Inside the Café Oto in Dalston (which really is a café by day, transforming into a music venue by night), there stood a chair, an amplifier, two microphones, and a well-used 1963 Fender Jaguar guitar. Once the 200-or-so audience members had taken their places and had time to buy drinks and chat to each other for a little while, the unassuming figure of Marc Ribot – best known for his collaborations with Tom Waits - emerged from a discreetly-placed doorway, contentedly surveyed the crowd, and passed through the room almost unnoticed, save for a few fans who spotted him and shook his hand as he made his way to the front. Once everyone in the room realised that the star of the show had arrived, a hush descended, and Ribot made his way into the spotlight with his trusty 1937 Gibson HG-00 acoustic guitar. With his shock of silver hair, grey suit jacket, and glasses perched on the end of his nose, Ribot could pass for a learned academic; which, in the field of guitar playing, you could say he is.

After the applause had died down and Ribot had thanked the audience, the guitarist set to work. The first few moments of the show reminded me of watching someone paint a picture; with the first few brushstrokes it is impossible to know where the artist is headed, but as you watch them work you start to get an idea of what they are going for. So it was with Marc Ribot: the first few notes sounded random and discordant, but gradually everything fell in to place. Hunched over his guitar, one minute Ribot would be playing a gentle jazz piece by one of his favourite composers, the next suddenly launching into a burst of frenzied improvisation, to the point where I began to wonder how much longer the strings of the battered Gibson could withstand such assaults. Occasionally a snippet of a familiar melody would emerge from the chaos, only to be instantly sucked back into the maelstrom.

For the second set, Ribot switched to his electric guitar and played a selection of pieces by the composer John Cage (after assuring the audience he wouldn't be playing any silent pieces). This section was much mellower than the frenetic opening section, but the audience remained just as enthralled. Ribot then switched back to the acoustic for some more improvised pieces, and then returned for a warmly-received encore.

I really enjoyed this show, which was intense and challenging in the best possible way. Far from being an excuse for Ribot to show off, it felt like watching someone look for something, tweaking and adjusting their work until they stand back and realise they’ve got it just right. 

 

O'Donaghue's Pub, Dublin

Dublin has many, many pubs, but the one I was most excited to visit was O’Donaghue’s on Merrion Row (not to be confused with the other O’Donoghue’s on Suffolk Street).This pub is famous for being the spiritual home of traditional Irish music, and the birthplace of one of Ireland’s most famous bands, The Dubliners. It’s fair to say that, were Irish folk music a religion, O’Donaghues’s would be the place people would take pilgrimages to.

The inside of O’Donaghue’s is more or less exactly as it would have been fifty years ago. To the right of the entrance is an alcove below the front window, where in the evening you can usually count on finding a revolving cast of musicians engaged in a ‘session’, where each take turns in singing and accompanying each other in front of a huddle of reverent observers. Then there’s a narrow (and usually jam packed) thoroughfare in front of the bar which leads to a small seated section at the back, where, if you’re lucky, another session will be in progress. We were lucky, and parked ourselves directly across from the musicians, after furnishing ourselves with a pint of Guinness, of course.

The interior walls of the pub are covered from top to bottom with photographs of legendary musicians who had visited over the years; there were many pictures of Ronnie Drew, Luke Kelly and the gang, but many more of other people I didn’t know, all of whom looked like they had interesting stories to tell.

Interestingly, the musicians were all playing totally unamplified, but they appeared to be using the building’s unique acoustics to allow their singing and playing to cut through the noise from other areas of the pub. The first group we saw were a duo, one musician playing the guitar and the other a banjo, which they occasionally swapped. Their repertoire wasn’t limited to traditional tunes either, as they transformed Simon & Garfunkel’s ‘El Condor Pasa’, Johnny Cash’s ‘Folsom Prison Blues’, and The Beatles’ ‘A Day in the Life’ into ancient Irish folk songs.

On our second visit the next day, we listened to a different group headed by a singer named Victor Byrne, who sang amazing renditions of ‘The Lakes of Ponchartrain’ and ‘Caledonia’, before handing over to another singer who performed a beautiful ‘From Clare to Here’. I wasn’t familiar with these songs, but by this point I was taking copious mental notes of the songs I liked so I could look them up later. The musicians were very approachable, and glad to tell us the names of songs we didn’t know.

I will definitely coming back to O’Donaghue’s next time I’m in Dublin, and I’m looking forward to seeking out sessions at other pubs in the city. There are many, many pubs in Dublin, but I think I will be lucky to find another one as magical as O’Donaghue’s of Merrion Row.