TV on the Radio frontman and Star Wars actor Tunde Adebimpe delivers a slice of slanted and enchanted indie
Adebimpe, whose varied career includes stop-motion animation and acting (his latest TV gig is Star Wars: Skeleton Crew) is a compelling presence on these 11 songs. The urgent Magnetic, all fuzzy guitars and synths, finds him 'thinking about the human race in the age of tenderness and rage' while the stark, arresting Drop is a beatbox masterclass.
A jaunty giddiness characterises many of the songs, but it is clear that pain is being exorcised. The playful, upbeat stylings of God Knows cannot disguise the fact that he's singing about a relationship that's gone badly awry. 'God knows you're the worst thing I've ever loved/ You're bad news but we've still got to have our fun.'
And, on the tender ballad ILY, he sings about his younger sister who died during the pandemic. It's heartbreaking: 'Tell me that the end is not the end.' Co-written with the album's producer Wilder Zoby — who is probably best known for his collaborations with hip-hop duo Run the Jewels — it's the album's most conventionally structured song, but once heard, difficult to forget.
Unlike TV on the Radio, Beirut are still going, but then that act was all about the talents of Zach Condon rather than a grouping of like-minded subversives. Condon's first couple of (Balkans-inspired) albums coincided with Adebimpe's band's much heralded early run and, despite the odd wobble, he's kept the quality high.
His latest, A Study of Losses, is typically unconventional. Commissioned by a Swedish acrobatic troupe — of all things — it features 11 songs and seven instrumentals. Sophisticated, textured arrangements elevate the likes of Forest Encyclopaedia, which features Condon's sombre, sorrowful singing.
A highlight, Caspian Tiger, has a hymnal quality, a wonderful vocal delivery, and a confluence of strings, artfully arranged by Clarice Jensen, artistic director of the American Contemporary Music Ensemble.
It's an album to get lost in.
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Irish Times
4 days ago
- Irish Times
Ryan Tubridy still has the Tiggerish verve and breezy name-drops. So why does it feel sour?
In a world riven by social division and online venom, there's a place where the vibe is unwaveringly upbeat, negativity is determinedly banished and everyone is nice to each other, or to one person at least. So fervently cheerful is the mood on The Ryan Tubridy Show (Q102, weekdays) that it's possible, just for a minute, to forget about troubles roiling the globe and even the payments scandal that saw the host exit RTÉ two years ago this month. Broadcasting from the London studios of Virgin Radio UK, the station he joined in January 2024, Tubridy approaches his late-morning show with Tiggerish verve, bringing an unflagging enthusiasm to the insouciant musings, breezy interviews and industrial-scale namedropping with which he punctuates his soundtrack of indie oldies. The net effect is akin to the opening monologue of his old RTÉ Radio 1 weekday programme being shorn of anything vaguely news-related and spread out over three hours. READ MORE Instead there are countless recollections of Tubridy's encounters with sundry celebrities, invariably cast in a glowing light. He lauds the idiosyncrasies of the Star Trek actor William Shatner: 'I had the pleasure of meeting him.' He highlights the musical talents of Michael Flatley while assessing the dancer's presidential aspirations : 'A nicer man you won't meet'. And on it goes. Even when he doesn't know someone, Tubridy can't help imagining them as friends: 'I think I'd get on okay with Bill Nighy'. Meanwhile, though his show is primarily aimed at a British audience, the host's frame of reference is still firmly Irish, whether he's giving tips on Dublin pubs or previewing the upcoming presidential election. In fairness, this characteristic seems to be a selling point for the British market – the tagline for his show on Virgin Media UK's website reads 'the craic continues' – while it surely chimes with his audience on Q102. [ The show mustn't go on for RTÉ underperformers, say RTÉ news staff Opens in new window ] Admittedly, the tone varies a bit. Tubridy enjoys the company of Tim Minchin , the Australian comic songwriter and musician, who proves a wry and perceptive guest during their interview. And the host has his own moments of disarming self-deprecation. 'I'm just a spoof,' he larkily says of his ability as a cinema critic. Mostly, however, the show is fuelled by an unceasing jollity: even his playlist of alternative classics by the likes of the Buzzcocks, The Cure and Primal Scream is stirring in tenor. Of course, as Roy Keane might say, it's his job. Tubridy is a natural behind the mic, and his radio show is predicated on his chirpy exuberance and ability to gab easily about mainstream pop culture, not his sensible civics-teacher persona, though that side occasionally seeps through. (He laudably offers listeners books he bought cheaply outside his local library.) But, taken together with his books podcast and his resurgent visibility in the social pages, the unmistakeable impression is of someone living his very best life. And, you might say, why shouldn't he? Having endured a torrid period of public approbation and political scrutiny following the revelations about RTÉ's controversial payments to him which were not disclosed publicly , Tubridy has come out the other end, if not quite redeemed, then refreshed and relaunched. So why does all this positivity carry a faint backnote of sourness? Tubridy may not have been the cause of RTÉ's need to remunerate presenters so handsomely in a market it dominated. But public outrage at the host's surreptitious top-ups – €150,000 of which hasn't been repaid – contributed to a precipitous drop in licence fees. 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[ Seán Rocks, presenter of RTÉ radio's culture show Arena, dies aged 63 Opens in new window ] Meanwhile, Liveline (RTÉ Radio 1, weekdays) putters on without the retired Joe Duffy , amid conclave-esque levels of speculation and opacity surrounding his successor. In the absence of a permanent replacement, the phone-in show perhaps unavoidably has the feel of an extended audition, with Colm Ó Mongáin currently helming after a fortnight's stint by Philip Boucher-Hayes. Whatever the outcome – Katie Hannon remains the favourite for the post – Ó Mongáin's spell highlights his virtues as a broadcaster while indicating the limits of the Liveline brand without Duffy. Ó Mongáin cuts a likably understated figure, his quietly encouraging manner drawing out stories from callers. 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With the waiting list for specialist residential care paused, he is despondent and angry – 'the HSE effectively expects families to care until they drop' – and even hints that he would see no future for his daughter if he knew he and his wife were dying. Having drawn out the wider ramifications of the story, Ó Mongáin goes into alarm mode, understandably cautioning against any drastic action that would be 'an appalling crime'. Such drama aside, it's yet more bleak testimony from an embattled family feeling let down by the State: Tony stresses that thousands more are in his situation. Not everyone can look on the bright side of life. Moment of the week The eternal question of art versus commerce is dissected on Culture File Presents: The Comfort Zone (Lyric FM, Saturday), the show that has the novelist Colm Tóibín discussing cultural works with its host, Luke Clancy. The pair are joined by the artist Kerry Guinan to examine what Clancy calls 'one of the art world's greatest pranks', the burning of £1 million, in 1994, by the K Foundation, aka the techno-pop act The KLF, aka the anarchic artists Bill Drummond and Jimmy Cauty. Tóibín is slightly aghast, his 'inner social worker' wary of the destruction of sums that could be used elsewhere, while Guinan approves, claiming the act took away the power of money: 'The money is not doing what it's supposed to'. Not that Tóibín is necessarily against incendiary cultural gestures. 'I burned a diary,' he reveals. 'It was pure freedom.' It's a thought-provoking conversation – sparky, even.
Irish Times
4 days ago
- Irish Times
Ryan Tubridy's on-air fervent cheer has a sour backnote
In a world riven by social division and online venom, there's a place where the vibe is unwaveringly upbeat, negativity is determinedly banished and everyone is nice to each other, or to one person at least. So fervently cheerful is the mood on The Ryan Tubridy Show (Q102, weekdays) that it's possible, just for a minute, to forget about troubles roiling the globe and even the payments scandal that saw the host exit RTÉ two years ago this month. Broadcasting from the London studios of Virgin Radio UK, the station he joined in January 2024, Tubridy approaches his late-morning show with Tiggerish verve, bringing an unflagging enthusiasm to the insouciant musings, breezy interviews and industrial-scale namedropping with which he punctuates his soundtrack of indie oldies. The net effect is akin to the opening monologue of his old RTÉ Radio 1 weekday programme being shorn of anything vaguely news-related and spread out over three hours. READ MORE Instead there are countless recollections of Tubridy's encounters with sundry celebrities, invariably cast in a glowing light. He lauds the idiosyncrasies of the Star Trek actor William Shatner: 'I had the pleasure of meeting him.' He highlights the musical talents of Michael Flatley while assessing the dancer's presidential aspirations : 'A nicer man you won't meet'. And on it goes. Even when he doesn't know someone, Tubridy can't help imagining them as friends: 'I think I'd get on okay with Bill Nighy'. Meanwhile, though his show is primarily aimed at a British audience, the host's frame of reference is still firmly Irish, whether he's giving tips on Dublin pubs or previewing the upcoming presidential election. In fairness, this characteristic seems to be a selling point for the British market – the tagline for his show on Virgin Media UK's website reads 'the craic continues' – while it surely chimes with his audience on Q102. [ The show mustn't go on for RTÉ underperformers, say RTÉ news staff Opens in new window ] Admittedly, the tone varies a bit. Tubridy enjoys the company of Tim Minchin , the Australian comic songwriter and musician, who proves a wry and perceptive guest during their interview. And the host has his own moments of disarming self-deprecation. 'I'm just a spoof,' he larkily says of his ability as a cinema critic. Mostly, however, the show is fuelled by an unceasing jollity: even his playlist of alternative classics by the likes of the Buzzcocks, The Cure and Primal Scream is stirring in tenor. Of course, as Roy Keane might say, it's his job. Tubridy is a natural behind the mic, and his radio show is predicated on his chirpy exuberance and ability to gab easily about mainstream pop culture, not his sensible civics-teacher persona, though that side occasionally seeps through. (He laudably offers listeners books he bought cheaply outside his local library.) But, taken together with his books podcast and his resurgent visibility in the social pages, the unmistakeable impression is of someone living his very best life. And, you might say, why shouldn't he? Having endured a torrid period of public approbation and political scrutiny following the revelations about RTÉ's controversial payments to him which were not disclosed publicly , Tubridy has come out the other end, if not quite redeemed, then refreshed and relaunched. So why does all this positivity carry a faint backnote of sourness? Tubridy may not have been the cause of RTÉ's need to remunerate presenters so handsomely in a market it dominated. But public outrage at the host's surreptitious top-ups – €150,000 of which hasn't been repaid – contributed to a precipitous drop in licence fees. And while Tubridy can be excused being permanently clad in sackcloth and ashes, his on-air jauntiness comes perilously close to making him sound pleased with himself at a time when his former colleagues face an uncertain future, as does the network that once promoted his career so lavishly. If Tubridy's old home at RTÉ Radio 1 has soldiered on since his departure, it's still grappling with more recent developments. First and foremost, there is the sad and dreadfully premature death of Seán Rocks , the presenter of the long-running arts show Arena, whose passing was announced as this column was going to press. The loss of such a versatile and engaging broadcaster is immense, to radio and the arts, and – most of all – as a warm, smart, friendly human being. [ Seán Rocks, presenter of RTÉ radio's culture show Arena, dies aged 63 Opens in new window ] Meanwhile, Liveline (RTÉ Radio 1, weekdays) putters on without the retired Joe Duffy , amid conclave-esque levels of speculation and opacity surrounding his successor. In the absence of a permanent replacement, the phone-in show perhaps unavoidably has the feel of an extended audition, with Colm Ó Mongáin currently helming after a fortnight's stint by Philip Boucher-Hayes. Whatever the outcome – Katie Hannon remains the favourite for the post – Ó Mongáin's spell highlights his virtues as a broadcaster while indicating the limits of the Liveline brand without Duffy. Ó Mongáin cuts a likably understated figure, his quietly encouraging manner drawing out stories from callers. When talking to Pauline, whose son Luke disappeared in Limerick in January, he lets his guest describe her son at length, painting a picture of a capable young man dealing with depression: her calm account has the quality of a tragedy foretold. 'I'm still hoping he went walkabout,' Pauline says, while admitting her older son isn't as optimistic. It's a heartbreaking tale, handled with sensitivity by Ó Mongáin, though one suspects Duffy might have injected more emotive drama into the segment. [ Liveline contenders: 'Crazy levels of speculation' about who will step in to replace Joe Duffy Opens in new window ] Joe Duffy hosted his final Liveline radio programme at the end of June 2025. Photograph: Colin Keegan/ Collins Dublin He's similarly attentive with Tony, who despairs about what will happen to his intellectually disabled daughter, Aoife, after he and his wife are gone. (Tony is 70; Aoife is 41.) With the waiting list for specialist residential care paused, he is despondent and angry – 'the HSE effectively expects families to care until they drop' – and even hints that he would see no future for his daughter if he knew he and his wife were dying. Having drawn out the wider ramifications of the story, Ó Mongáin goes into alarm mode, understandably cautioning against any drastic action that would be 'an appalling crime'. Such drama aside, it's yet more bleak testimony from an embattled family feeling let down by the State: Tony stresses that thousands more are in his situation. Not everyone can look on the bright side of life. Moment of the week The eternal question of art versus commerce is dissected on Culture File Presents: The Comfort Zone (Lyric FM, Saturday), the show that has the novelist Colm Tóibín discussing cultural works with its host, Luke Clancy. The pair are joined by the artist Kerry Guinan to examine what Clancy calls 'one of the art world's greatest pranks', the burning of £1 million, in 1994, by the K Foundation, aka the techno-pop act The KLF, aka the anarchic artists Bill Drummond and Jimmy Cauty. Tóibín is slightly aghast, his 'inner social worker' wary of the destruction of sums that could be used elsewhere, while Guinan approves, claiming the act took away the power of money: 'The money is not doing what it's supposed to'. Not that Tóibín is necessarily against incendiary cultural gestures. 'I burned a diary,' he reveals. 'It was pure freedom.' It's a thought-provoking conversation – sparky, even.
Irish Times
5 days ago
- Irish Times
Seán Rocks: Ireland has lost one of its great cultural champions
The broadcaster Seán Rocks , who has died after a short illness at the age of 64, was the voice of the arts on Irish radio , his instantly recognisable Border county tones synonymous with comprehensive yet accessible cultural programming on the airwaves. As the presenter of RTÉ Radio 1's weeknight arts show Arena, he covered every imaginable aspect of the creative world with a relaxed confidence and attentive curiosity. Whether the subject was highbrow literature or lo-fi music, conceptual art or blockbuster movies, Rocks was always an engaged and inquisitive host, with an ever-present mischievous streak that ensured proceedings never grew too arid for listeners. His dreadfully premature death is an incalculable loss to Irish broadcasting as well as a devastating bereavement for his family. READ MORE As host of Arena since its launch in 2009, Rocks not only dealt with a wide spectrum of areas and artforms, but ensured his show was always worth tuning into, even on nights when the menu was thinner than usual. He was an adept interviewer of big-name guests, from literary giants such as Edna O'Brien and Salman Rushdie to comedy stars like Ricky Gervais . But just as importantly on a nightly show where promising material can be at a premium, he brought a lively commitment to the panel discussions and reviews that provided much of his show's content. The topics could be uneven, but Rocks was a dependably appealing presence, as well as a deft guide through the more intimidating thickets of the cultural world. His skill as a communicator was honed early on. He described himself as an outgoing child, a trait that served him well as an adult. A native of Monaghan town, where his father was an accountant and owned a grocery, he started his professional life as a teacher. After seven years in education, he took a different path, inadvertently at first: having become interested in drama studies to help his voice in the classroom, he began working as an actor. Throughout the 1990s, he accumulated roles on screen, including Glenroe and Fair City, and on the stage, appearing in productions at the Abbey and the Gate , in works by the likes of Tom Murphy and Marina Carr. (He also appeared in the premiere production of The Cure at Troy, by my late father Seamus Heaney .) By his own admission, his radio career began almost by accident, when in 2000 he pitched a series to Lyric FM about Shakespeare and music. But he had found his métier. His previous professions proved to be valuable training for his future career on Arena, not only giving him a grounding as an educator and an arts practitioner, but also providing him with the skill set for live radio: 'The most important trait in all those jobs is to be able to listen,' he told the Irish Examiner in 2014. [ Seán Rocks, presenter of RTÉ radio's culture show Arena, dies aged 64 Opens in new window ] After producing and presenting documentaries, including the award-winning Soul of Ireland, he began presenting his new show, Arena, at a time when the arts were slipping down RTÉ Radio 1's list of priorities. The station's previous arts show Rattlebag aired in a primetime afternoon slot, but Arena went out at 7pm, when radio listenership precipitously falls off. Despite this unpromising situation, Rocks took to the role with aplomb. Alive to the sensibilities of his guests and to the nuances of the artforms he covered, he never talked down to his audience, instead inviting them to explore alongside him. He was especially good when talking to writers, enjoying lively encounters with poets such as Paul Muldoon or the late Michael Longley , and novelists such as Kevin Barry , while he also unsurprisingly hit it off with actors such as Timothy Spall. A key ingredient to this consistent chemistry was Rocks's natural good humour and self-deprecating sense of fun, which helped set guests at ease. (I speak from grateful experience.) This characteristic also allowed him to gently prick the pretensions of contributors before they disappeared down theoretical dead ends. Equally crucial to the success of Rocks's long tenure was his steadfast commitment to the arts. 'The arts are important because ultimately they give a richness to our culture which feeds into everything else,' he observed. He valued and respected those who worked as artists, and the feeling was reciprocated, as the heartfelt tributes paid to him on radio by John Banville and Kevin Barry eloquently attest. In broadcasting terms, Rocks's untimely passing leaves Radio 1 reeling at a time when stability is at a premium and the station's schedule is under scrutiny. His personality was so interwoven into the fabric of Arena that it's hard to imagine the show without its signature host. ( Rick O'Shea , a versatile broadcaster himself, has nonetheless done a good job as Arena's stand-in presenter over the past week.) But of course, it's the human loss that is much more profound, most painfully for Seán's beloved wife Catherine and their two sons. Meanwhile, Ireland's arts world has lost one of its greatest champions, a broadcaster whose easy wit and big-hearted spirit belied a lifelong devotion to educating people about the richness of our culture.
