How A Sitcom Is Born (In RTE)

Location: The RTE brainstorming room.

(Though judging by some of the station’s output, this place probably doesn’t even exist.)

RTE Executive: Right, Dave, thanks for coming to this meeting. My assistant, Sharon, has read some of your scripts and she tells me they’re very promising.

Dave: Well, thanks. I’m glad-

Exec: (Interrupts) Yeah, yeah, that’s great. So, what’s your idea? Sharon tells me it’s got something to do with a school?

Dave: Um…no actually. It’s about a guy who owns an independent music store in Cork and his friend who runs a small time music label. It’s basically about their relationships, loves, losses and dealing with unsigned bands. I wanted to bring in a tiny bit of the surrealism and one camera atmosphere of Scrubs, with perhaps the quotable one liners of the Simpsons and the wit of Black Books.

Exec: …Right… But it’s funny?

Dave: Oh yeah, definitely. In fact, Graham Linehan has read one of my scripts and has said it’s one of the most promising he has read in at least ten years. And, Dylan Moran has actually expressed-

Exec: Graham who? Moran? (Turns to assistant) Who are these people?

Sharon: They’re-

Exec: (Turning back to Dave) Look, that sounds really good. I love it. It just needs some…tweaking.

Dave: Tweaking? Well, I -

Exec: Yeah, tweaking. For instance, no one cares about Cork. That’s not going to work.

Dave: But I -

Exec: It’s got to be Dublin. As we like to say here in RTE, “There’s no one important outside Dublin.” And a music store? I can’t see it. What about your other idea about a school?

Dave: I didn’t have -

Exec: Yeah, you’re school idea was much better. We’ve got to look at the demographics. There’s a growing population of…what do you call them? Immigrants! A lot in Dublin now, so maybe if we could work that into the script.

Dave: Um…if we could get back to -

Exec: A language school! That’s great, nice one Dave. Thing is though, our viewers are thick!

Dave: What? They’re not thick.

Exec: (Laughs) A now Dave, I’m an RTE executive. I know what I’m talking about. Those people out there are thick. They’re not going to understand something as original as that. We need to copy an existing format.

Dave: (Getting more and more confused) What? But why would -

Exec: Have you ever seen the Office, Dave?

Dave: Yeah, it’s not bad.

Exec: Turgid pile of shite Dave, those BBC bastards don’t know what they’re doing. But it was pretty successful, so let’s take that format and apply it to your language school idea.

Dave: But I didn’t have that idea.

Exec: Ah now Dave, this is RTE! This is no place for modesty. So we have a language school instead of an office and we have a teacher instead of a manager? I like what you’re saying Dave.

Dave: (Giving up at this stage) Um…yeah…thanks.

Exec: But of course we’ve got to make the teacher annoying. I mean really annoying. Let’s make this guy the most horrendously infuriating character to ever have graced Irish television.

Sharon: Um…what about Ryan Tubridy?

Exec: Good point. The SECOND most horrendously infuriating character to ever have graced Irish television. A real cunt. Every movement, every word this prick utters should drive people around the bend. That’s what the riff-raff love! That’s what they think is funny.

Dave: Are you sure that’s funny?

Exec: (Arms out open wide) Dave, Dave. Trust me, I’ve produced ‘Upwardly Mobile’, ‘Killinaskully’, ‘Bull Island’, ‘The Cassidys’ and ‘Extra, Extra, Read All About It’. See? I know what’s funny.

Dave: But none of those shows were -

Exec: Actually funny in any way shape or form? I know that Dave. You know that. Sharon here is a woman, and even she knows that. But the viewers don’t know that. So it doesn’t matter.

Dave: (Stares blankly).

Exec: So we’ve got the annoying teacher, a group of immigrants and that cringe-worthy humour that The Office made popular. That sounds like a pretty accurate portrayal of modern Irish society, don’t you think?

Dave: Well, I wouldn’t say exactly that -

Exec: Bad writing! I forgot about that bad writing. That’s a must, of course. So really, I wouldn’t bother working too hard on it Dave, it’s cool. Just slap any old shit together.

(The anger Dave has been feeling bubbling within for the last few minutes finally bursts forth)
Dave: (Rising from his chair) Look! I can’t do this. None of this was my idea! This isn’t my script! This is a terrible idea! I can’t sacrifice my artistic integrity for this rubbish.

Exec: Oh. Sorry Dave, I didn’t know you felt that way. Although, I did forget to mention how much you’d get paid for this.

(The Exec writes a figure on a sheet of paper, folds it and slides it across the table to Dave. Dave opens the paper, his eyes widen and struggles to find words.)

Exec: (Smiling) So Dave, when do you think you could have the pilot script of “The English Class” polished up?

Dave: A week! 5 days! Whatever you like. (Giggles a little, looking at the piece of paper again.)

Exec: Excellent! Good talking to you Dave.

And that, dear readers, is how RTE continues it’s amazing streak of producing top quality homegrown sitcoms.

Conor Harrington

It’s plainly obvious that graffiti and street art are growing trends in this country (as well as everywhere else, for that matter) and I’ve spoken before about the annoying dearth of quality among most of what covers the walls. While Ireland may have a growing graffiti scene, there are few artists who stand out from the crowd and take the art-form to a greater level. One artist who did that, and indeed still does, was from Cork but has – since 2004 – been living and working in London. His name is Conor Harrington.

Conor started graffiti-ing when he was 14 on the streets of Cork. He did a BA in Painting in Limerick and in 2004 moved to London. His stuff still springs up every so often here at home though. One of his paintings was used for the cover of Prime Time’s SouthernFried 2 album and he has done the last few incarnations of Prime Time’s facade on Washington Street as well as a little secret gem around the back. Here’s some of his latest stuff:

Conor’s photorealistic style is something I’ve hugely admired for years now and it sets him distinctly apart from other graffiti artists in this city and this country. The gap between him and the rest in terms of talent and creativity is obvious. He has taken his photo realistic and graffiti sensibilities and has been applying them to canvases over the last few years and has begun to make a considerable name for himself in the graffiti and art worlds. Graphotism, one of the most important and widely known graffiti magazines in the world even put him on their cover a while back and he was the main feature of that issue.

This guy is a testament to how good graffiti and street art can be and how it is just as valid an art form as any of the others. I just wish there were more like him around. I am jealous beyond belief.

Some links:

His website.

Wooster article. And another.

Ektopia.

Jon Ching.

Song Of The Day

I cannot get this song out of my head today. So I’m spreading the happiness! Still, there are many many worse songs I could have stuck in there I suppose, so I guess I’m lucky!

“The value of a man resides in what he gives and not in what he is capable of receiving.”

So while our soccer team don’t appear to be au fait with the concept of “goal-scoring” and the rugby team have the combined catching ability of a toddler, it seems that Ireland’s Radiohead fans are the most generous in the world. The Examiner have it that, according to www.whatpricedidyouchoose.com, Irish fans of the band paid an average of €6.38 for their recent ‘download-only’ album, In Rainbows.

Those of you living under a rock/in Kerry might not know about In Rainbows, for which Radiohead are allowing people to pay whatever they think is fair when downloading the album.

Meanwhile the band’s homeland, Britain, placed just above places like Azerbaijan, Ecuador and Namibia as being one of the stingiest countries, paying on average only about €4.52. Not really something we can shout at the Brits from the terraces, but there you go. It’s the little victories that count.

Brendan McWilliams

I didn’t read Brendan McWilliams’ religiously, but his picture above the daily column was a somewhat comforting and consistent presence on the weather page of the Irish Times. Whenever I did read his pieces however, I was always struck by how fresh he managed to keep a subject like weather. He conveyed the notion that weather is more than simply something a winking weatherman forecasts on the TV. His columns weren’t about the predicted temperature over the next few days, they were about how weather impacts and even controls almost every aspect of our lives, even in the 21st century.

His absence now is disconcertingly conspicuous and the Irish Times will feel a little bit emptier with his passing.

Simply put, he was a good writer.

Back After A Nice Rest

Due to my combined bouts of laziness and busyness, this lengthy review of Rest’s recent Cork gig by the young and talented Patrick Lucy is only being posted now. Sorry about that. But, nevertheless, enjoy!

Cyprus Avenue bore witness to the opening show of a three-date autumn tour by post-metal behemoths Rest on Friday night, a typically intense set offering another welcome glimpse at the devastatingly heavy direction that Graham, Steve, Johnny and Colm intend to take with their forthcoming LP.

To begin the evening’s festivities, opening act Sea Area Forecast saw the renowned Galvin – most recently of Lerner fame – stepping into the spotlight to front an edgy and concise three-piece, who’s spiky, assertive rock captured the attention of most within the venue, due in no small part to the melodic sensibility and well-calculated dynamics that grew in stature as their set progressed. Good stuff.

The “renowned” Galvin.

Next up were Private Underground Residence, another three-piece, albeit one who compensate for their lack of a bass player courtesy of a handy octave effect on one of the guitars. I have to admit that I didn’t catch as much of their set as I would have liked, given that I was busy readying myself both mentally and physically for Rest, but what I did see suggests that this was my loss. Quirky and intricate guitar interplay not dissimilar to some of Don Caballero’s work gave way every so often to intense, commanding yet almost incidental vocals. A more subdued number towards the end of the set featuring synth and spoken word vocals caught my attention in particular.

And so it was time for what most people had paid their hard-earned for, though you might not have thought it given the hubbub of crowd chatter that became irritatingly apparent during the more sparse and ambient sections of Rest’s set – something I didn’t really expect to encounter that much at their headlining shows anymore, but oh well.

Bitchiness aside, Rest somehow continue to impress me more every time I see them. The opening number, an as-yet unreleased metallic skullfuck undoubtedly earmarked for the new record, saw Graham and Steve unleash more of the deliciously sinister guitar harmonies which have increasingly become a Rest trademark of late. One of the most remarkable things about Rest’s support slot with Isis earlier in the year, and something which became doubly apparent on Saturday, was how much bombast and aplomb they instantly exuded with their opening number (very much a by-product of the heavier direction they’ve taken); previous shows usually having been kicked off with more slow-building and ethereal material, material which I feel sits more comfortably towards the middle of their set. Speaking of which…

The only way the tempo and mood of the set could effectively go from such a barnstorming introduction was down, and no better way to do it than with the haunting e-bow intro to Is Our Blood Not Enough?, the closing track from Rest’s stunning 2004 debut LP. The breathtaking segue into Drowning in Flame (and back out again) that takes place about two-thirds of the way through what is altogether close to a fifteen-minute epic has been a live favourite for quite a few years now; one song effortlessly assimilating the other before spitting it straight back out. This piece as a whole goes a long way towards showcasing exactly what Rest are about: sparse, melancholic, down-tempo passages giving way to a sense of foreboding uneasiness, before erupting into a frenzy of pulsing drums and hypnotic, intertwining guitar melodies, ultimately climaxing with some of the heaviest riffs this side of Mastodon. In short, a stunning amalgamation of the visceral and the cerebral.

Tellingly, this was to be the only material from the aforementioned debut that we would hear on the night, as plenty more jaw-dropping new stuff was aired, along with both cuts from this year’s epic Operation: Impending Doom EP. However, despite an increasing tendency towards the more brutal approach that I’ve referred to, Rest have no intention of letting go of the beautifully melodic side to their character that has won them much of their fanbase to date, and one new track in particular welds the pretty and the ugly together to devastating effect – three minutes or so of sweet, lullaby-esque post-rock submits to some intriguing passages of frantic, Botch-inspired riffage which eventually bring matters to an exhilarating conclusion.

Despite the usual pre-show grumblings of “probably not quite enough rehearsal”, Rest were ferociously tight where and when they needed to be (i.e. the majority of the time), this as always due in no small part to the devastating quality of Johnny’s drumming, which I feel in danger of understating purely because his talent is so obvious to anyone who catches even a few minutes of a Rest set – similarly blatant is the fact that he’s very much the powerhouse who drives the band’s sound.

“New” bassist Colm meanwhile demonstrated on the night that he’s more than pulling his weight in the writing process with astonishing bass accompaniment throughout; sometimes locking in flawlessly with the guitar riffs to provide yet another layer of harmony (or discordance as the case may be), sometimes offering just the right level of understated accompaniment and atmosphere, and often accenting Johnny’s pulverising drumming to devastating effect.

The only negative I could personally draw from the night was that the crowd were in some cases too cool or in others not paying that much attention; at times I felt like the gig could have been in Dublin. The atmosphere was not what it should have been. But speaking exclusively about the music, I couldn’t have hoped for much better.

Now to a lot of people, it won’t come as much of a surprise that I’m gushing superlatives in Rest’s general direction, but it has to be said that these guys definitely aren’t as widely recognised as they ought to be, and in my experience are a bit of a musician’s band (a very bad thing from a rent-paying perspective!). At the same time, whenever I take someone unfamiliar with their stuff to a show, irrespective of musical taste, they more often than not come away deeply impressed – so, if you’re looking for artistically dazzling music which is carefully crafted and expertly delivered, and for some reason have remained unfamiliar with Rest until now, you have little excuse for not checking out one of the best exponents of any sort of rock music in the country.

Patrick

Biffy To Play Cork

I don’t get those rabid fans. Those obsessives who track down every bootleg, b-side and remix of a band. Or who learn off entire episodes of a TV series and go to trivia quizzes about that TV series. Or the people who could go on Mastermind and answer questions on trains, or actors or a specific phylum of fungi. I don’t see how you could be bothered when there’s so much more out there to know that focussing on one band, show, film, fungus is a shockingly wasteful use of your cognitive abilities.

However, there are indeed a few things which I like enough to worry that I’m teetering close to the Pit of Obsession. Luckily, that safety rope called laziness has saved me from falling in. One of these would be the West Wing. I am a very big fan of the West Wing. I have every series on DVD and have watched almost all of them three times over. However, I don’t learn off the names of every character. I don’t have a list of my favourite episodes, or quotes. I don’t read fan fiction. I do however love the characters, I love the writing, I love the way I seem to learn something new every time I watch it. I love that is intelligent and witty and often funny.

This piece isn’t about the West Wing though. It’s about Biffy Clyro. I have seen Biffy Clyro five times. More than any other band (excluding those whom I know personally). I haven’t tracked down everything they’ve ever done. I can’t even remember all of their names. But I wouldn’t have seen them five times if I didn’t think they were fucking kick ass. So it was with a pleasing ripple of excitement that I read last night that Biffy will be playing the Savoy here in Cork in December. I wasn’t among those who queued this morning to get a ticket, but wandering in town at 11AM, I managed to get my hands on four pretty little pieces of paper that secure my place in the Savoy on the 18th of the most Christmassy month of the year. It will probably be sold out by the end of the day and it could probably be one of the best gigs in Cork this year. Probably? Most definitely.

Biffy Clyro covering Rhianna’s Umbrella

In Rainbows, like!

Everyone on the blogs is talking about ‘In Rainbows’, Radiohead’s just-released download-only album. Most reviews seem to be leaning towards the “really-good-but-not-exactly-Kid A-or-OK Computer” end of the spectrum. I haven’t gotten around to actually downloading the thing myself so I’m not going to pass judgement quite yet. But having met the inimitable David Lynch (not the director, the hirsute drummer/guitarist – ex-Standard Deviation and Dirttrack and currently with Sideproject) on the streets of Cork this lunch time and aftere wandering around for a while, conversation turned to Radiohead. However, as we were passing the Moderne, Mr. Lynch stopped and listened. The Moderne were pumping music out onto the street. What music I hear you ask? Well, as the astute among you may have predicted, it was a track from ‘In Rainbows’. The Corkonian among you will also realise how truly fucking weird it is to hear Radiohead coming from the Moderne, a place where the loopy-earring/tracksuited females of the city come to do their clothes shoplifting…I mean…shopping. Order was restored when a few moments later, they were pumping out Natasha Bedingfield from their tinny little speakers. But now I can’t shake the horrible association between the Moderne and Radiohead and fear the album may be tainted before I even download the thing. A true disturbance in the force.

+ =

Madam, ….

Oh, Irish Times letter page, how you love to drive me crazy sometimes with your annoyingly conservative (probably septuagenarian) contributors. Let’s have a look at what they have to say today.
There’s JA Barnwell from Dublin 9 who is worried about the effect d’immigrants will have on our precious National Identity and wonders ‘are we in face the losing “the thing called a country” (Wolfe Tone)?’ Our identity and culture are constantly shifting and evolving. Things like language and social mores are always changing, as indeed do cultures and identities. But as usual, people settle into a certain way of thinking as they get older and therefore see any change that comes afterwards as detrimental to what they see as being the correct order of these things. They fail to see that these ideas are not concrete, they are ethereal and not only change from day to day, year to year and generation to generation but from person to person. Some of these immigrants aren’t here for long, others are here for life. But they are the new Irish. The civil war/anti-Brit generation are slowly dying away and we’re no longer tied down by the insular ideas of our forefathers. So stuff it, oldie! Your ideas are obsolete!
Then We’ve got Aidan Meagher of the ‘Friends Of Classical Music’. (If someone from the ‘Friends’ of anything try to talk to you, run a country fucking mile.) Aidan is complaining that young people don’t listen to classical music and that somehow it’s the fault of the schools for not instilling in them even the “slightest notion of this great cultural heritage.’ As if, for some reason, other types of music might be less valid, less artistically or intellectually fulfilling. No doubt, classical music is a thrill to hear live but given that most of it’s fans (Fans? Of classical music? That sounds so wrong. Enthusiast perhaps? Aficionado? Disciple) are somewhat cliquey and it has never really been able to shed it’s distinctly high-brow sensibilities, it’s not entirely the most welcoming atmosphere for those who can’t tell their Mozart from the their Dvorak.
Something of a disappointing page today really, the other contributors were either agreeable or uninteresting. Nevertheless, this is a topic to which I will return.