Ordinary Love by Marie Rutkoski: A romance novel in two parts

Ryan Tubridy still has the Tiggerish verve and breezy name-drops. So why does it feel sour?

Irish Times

2 hours 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. 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.

A Hero's Journey: the rise and rise of All Together Now headliners Fontaines D.C.

Irish Examiner

2 hours ago

Irish Examiner

A Hero's Journey: the rise and rise of All Together Now headliners Fontaines D.C.

The lights went down, and five anonymous musicians stepped from the wings, their arrival watched by a crowd of fewer than 25. It was October 2017, and Mike The Pies, a popular pub and live music venue in Listowel Co Kerry, was hosting The Hot Sprockets, an indie soul band known for their jaunty, folksy sound. But first, there was the support act — a new group from Dublin who went as The Fontaines and were led by an intense frontman with a chaotic haircut, named Grian Chatten. 'They played a session on the Paul McLoone Show [on Today FM], and I was blown away by it. I contacted the band straight away and invited them down to do support,' recalls Mike the Pies owner, Aiden O'Connor. 'I remember the soundcheck being raw. I couldn't get my eyes off it. I was standing with another customer — the first song Grian was staring at us. I went... 'Is it me or you he's staring at?' He wasn't staring at us. It was his level of concentration, getting in the zone — or whatever way you describe it. He was constantly focusing on a point.' Seven years later, the Hot Sprockets are just another Irish band who never quite made it. Mike the Pies, for its part, recently welcomed the Frank and Walters for a date marking its tenth anniversary as a live venue. The Fontaines have meanwhile become Fontaines D.C. and are one of the biggest young bands in the world. They are among the most critically acclaimed, too. Last year's Romance album was rapturously received, earning wall-to-wall five-star reviews. Rolling Stone praised it as 'the sound… of a band triumphantly gunning for the big leagues', while the NME feted it as their 'most considered and intricately crafted release yet'. It isn't just critics. When Fontaines D.C. launched Romance with a show at the Camden Electric Ballroom in London last year, the audience included Harry Styles and Florence Welch. Elton John has likewise added his voice to the chorus of cheerleaders. 'You've just grown every album,' Elton told Fontaines' Chatten in a conversation on the rocketman's Apple Music show. 'You seem to have found your feet with this album in such a big way… it's a brilliant record.' Those views were echoed by Olivia Rodrigo, who covered their track I Love You at Dublin's Marlay Park in July. (L - R) Tom Coll, Conor Deegan III, Grian Chatten and Carlos O'Connell of Fontaines D.C. are seen at the Gucci show during Milan Fashion Week Fall/Winter 2023/24 on January 13, 2023 in Milan, Italy. (Photo by Jacopo M. Raule/Getty Images for Gucci) Fontaines D.C. haven't just exploded in popularity. Since Mike the Pies in 2017, their audience has become considerably younger. Early on, they often played to indie fans of a certain age raised on iconic late 1970s/early 1980s bands such as Joy Division and Echo and the Bunnymen. But when they went on the road touring Romance, Gen Z was out in force — as made clear to anyone attending their two sold-out shows at 3Arena Dublin last December. 'That first night [at Mike the Pies] the average age was probably in the 40s,' says O'Connor. 'That has changed completely. I was in 3Arena and in Manchester two nights — it was a way younger crowd.' Fontaines D.C. are mould breakers — both musically and in terms of their career. Irish rock has a long history of doing well at home but failing to create any sort of impression abroad. Irish success stories tend to be more commercial and calculated in their sound — whether that's U2's flag-waving or The Corrs' polished folk-pop. Sounds from the punkier end of the spectrum generally don't travel, with the arguable exceptions of My Bloody Valentine and The Cranberries (which had plenty of major label backing). Consider Dublin's Whipping Boy — a 1990s predecessor to Fontaines D.C. whose forte was stark indie rock and who were led by a frontman who sang in his native Dublin accent. Fontaines D.C. They were well-regarded in Ireland but were unable to break through abroad. So, what makes Fontaines DC different? In the UK, the feeling is simply that — whether it's the onslaught of Boys In A Better Land or the propulsive pop of My Favourite — they write great tunes. 'The enduring pull of Fontaines D.C.'s music derives from Chatten's ability to just write good songs,' said Far Out magazine. 'There's nothing hugely inventive about their sound — it sits quite firmly in the post-punk realm, only ever deviating from classic guitars and drums with the occasional tambourine. They don't play with genre or instrumentation, there's no sampling or strange synths, they rely entirely on melodies and meaning, and they've mastered both.' Others draw a connection between Fontaines and The Smiths, whose members were drawn from the Manchester-Irish community. 'Fontaines D.C. seem to be resonating in the UK like The Smiths did 40 years ago. It's ostensibly 'outsider' music, but it's commercially successful too,' says London-based music journalist James Hall. 'The Smiths' four studio albums reached numbers 2, 1, 2 and 2 in the album charts in the mid-1980s; Fontaines' four to date have charted at 9, 2, 1 and 2. Go figure. The music is both vigorous and deeply romantic, and it appeals across the generations. People in their 50s love it (self-included), and my friends' children love it too. 'The 17-year-old daughter of a mate who lives in Devon went to see Fontaines in Plymouth in November, and she and her friends painted Irish tricolours on their faces despite — as far as I know — never having been to Ireland. On this, Fontaines are a phenomenal live act. They've played it really smart too by recently using uber producer James Ford [Arctic Monkeys, Jesse Ware, Pet Shop Boys, Last Dinner Party]. 'He has a brilliant ear for song dynamics and melody but he also lets the music do the talking. The band's new music might be a bit poppier and lighter — It's Amazing to be Young, Favourite etc — but there's nothing wrong with that. Just listen to Grian Chatten's fantastic solo album Chaos For The Fly from 2023, it's very poppy. He's like Morrissey was in the 1980s/ 90s.' Grian Chatten of Fontaines D.C. performing on the Other Stage during the Glastonbury Festival at Worthy Farm in Somerset. Picture date: Sunday June 26, 2022. Alongside talent, the band has a huge work ethic. Their Romance tour has clocked up at 50 dates and counting, and they recently headlined 45,000-capacity Finsbury Park in London. That sort of hard work comes at a price and they've channelled their experiences of burn-out and exhaustion into music, particularly with 2020's A Hero's Death. 'A whole year of touring … affected our headspace writing the album. There was a lot of longing for home and finding ways to deal with constantly being displaced,' bassist Conor Deegan told the Examiner that March. 'It's so dualistic. In one sense, you are being recognised every day — on stage, by people in the audience. They're all going, 'you're great'. You step outside the door and you're a stranger. You can't speak the language. You realise what these things are actually worth and what they're not worth. They're kind of superficial in a sense.' The band's willingness to acknowledge their vulnerable side is also surely a factor in their rise and it is no coincidence that their success comes at the same time as that of Tyneside singer Sam Fender, whose music has a similar streak of sensitivity. In the case of Fontaines, that emotional honesty extends to a willingness to talk about their mental health — as made evident by last year's single, Starbuster, which is about Chatten's history of panic attacks ('How I feel? How I feel? I wanna keel'). Though it all, they've never forgotten where they come from, says Mike The Pies' Aiden O'Connor, who caught up with the band when they played arena shows in Dublin and Manchester last year. 'I met them after the gig in 3Arena. Deego [aka bassist Deegan] came up to me and said Aiden, how are our girls? Nothing about selling out 3Arena. I have a conversation with Carlos [O'Connell, guitarist], we were talking about his daughter and my daughter. As massive as they have become, their feet are firmly on the ground.'

Ryan Tubridy's on-air fervent cheer has a sour backnote

Irish Times

3 hours 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.

Ordinary Love by Marie Rutkoski: A romance novel in two parts

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Ryan Tubridy still has the Tiggerish verve and breezy name-drops. So why does it feel sour?

A Hero's Journey: the rise and rise of All Together Now headliners Fontaines D.C.

Ryan Tubridy's on-air fervent cheer has a sour backnote

Ordinary Love by Marie Rutkoski: A romance novel in two parts

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Related Articles

Ryan Tubridy still has the Tiggerish verve and breezy name-drops. So why does it feel sour?

A Hero's Journey: the rise and rise of All Together Now headliners Fontaines D.C.

Ryan Tubridy's on-air fervent cheer has a sour backnote

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