|
Video maker: Lobo G.  An afternoon in a brick box full of emotions. Dublin is a grandma's closet. There is always this lingering mold smell in it. It is disorganized in the best way possible, with containers of different shapes, sizes, and times everywhere. Here, you will find old things in new boxes and new stuff in old boxes. Furthermore, there is always this weird sense of nostalgia floating between the bricks. During the summertime, when the students are replaced by the tourists in the closet and the American accent can be heard more than usual in the Temple Bar quarter, the traditional summer event of la Mansarda is held in one of those old brick cubes. When I entered the Smock Alley Theater, one of the most famous places in Dublin, which has been a theater, then a church, and then a theater again, the place was already drowning in music and noise. Upstairs, over the main room, a wedding reception was at its second round of cocktails. The place was... swarmed with drunk men and women dressed like a Galway race audience, heavily contrasting with the few late-millennial hippies who were waiting for the doors to open. At 3 o'clock, with paper bracelets around our wrists, we went through several thresholds to go into the depths of the building. To the tempo created by my steps on the wood beneath them, everything that was left from Bray or Dublin, my problem and stress shredded away from my mind as I welcomed what would be the context for the rest of the day, my favorite stage of Dublin, the Boys School part of the theater. Here, the sitting benches are rustic. Bought from the off-stock of an unknown church, they have been customized with colored cushions, a welcome quality-of-life upgrade. The kneeling is still present on those pews if you feel like praying. In place of the altar, the Boy School stage offers an 8-meter high brick wall pierced by gothic-style windows. All this dramatic decorum is surrounded by a spiraling wooden ramp that serves the purpose of an emergency exit, accidental sitting and standing area, sound engineer platform, and off-stage changing room. Everything is suspended by steel cables attached somewhere in the dark void over our heads. Ligia, presenter for the day and creator of la mansarda organization, accompanied by Pilar Paradela and her harp, is opening the event with a poem. As Ligia's words flew over us, transported by the harpist notes, we were introduced to one of La Mansarda's mottos: cultural harmony. After this sweet prologue, we are introduced to more down-to-earth issues with the first stop on the program: “Beyond the Beach, the hell and the Hope,” a documentary presenting the work of the NGO Emergency. In this movie, the filmmaker chose to show three specific operations of the NGO: the running of a hospital in Kabul near the conflict zone, then one in a refugee camp on the border of Iran, and finally, the operation on a rescue boat on the Mediterranean Sea. The harsh images of the war and its human consequences were only commented on by the speech of the NGO workers, expressing their everyday struggles and hopes. My regret about this film is that the filmmaker didn't allow the refugees to speak for themselves by only interviewing the NGO workers, with few notable exceptions, therefore leaving them in the background and dehumanizing them a little. That said, the movie did an excellent job of enlightening the commitment of those who choose to work in conflict zones and the complexity of managing the different operations in an organization like this. As the guns sound, the screams of the wounded and the cry of hope faded out, and as the light of the stage faded in, the brick walls around us seemed taller than before, and the art more futile than ever. We all needed a break to not live the rest of the afternoon as an emotional whiplash. After I let an americano soothe my soul and the afternoon air of the Liffey aerated my brain, I went back inside the pit for the dance workshop. Down there, Eliana Valentini, with her dancing steps, strong tambourine rhythm, and the ethereal movement of her scarf, brought the whole Apulia region on stage. For the next 30 minutes, our lucky group of 10 people was in southern Italy, learning the pizzica, a dance practiced both for partying and therapeutic purposes. Even if the mythical tarantula had not bitten me, I still felt like dying several times during this workshop. It is that I'm not used to dancing in such an energetic and jumpy way under strong projectors, which succeeded in giving “Bari, midday in August “ vibes to the stage. It is with the grace of a cormorant drying its wings and a river of sweat in my back that I enjoyed this 30-minute lesson given by Eliana. She managed with a smooth learning curve to fool us into thinking we knew what we were doing. After a quick drying outside and a beer that I've gulped down too fast, it was time for the second part of La Mansarda: the patchwork of music and poem part. The theatre company recently formed named “ Nous” opened the ball. And god what a fantastic level of energy they brought on stage. They began with an excellent comedic routine consisting of a mix of physical and verbal comedy. This opening was in Italian, a language I do not speak, but that was spoken by the old lady sitting in the front row who laughed harder than the whole room. Then Nous shifted to english to tell the story of the Italian immigration in Dublin with songs intercut with comedy and storytelling bits. They finished their set with a banging cover of Bella Ciao, sung by the whole audience. Their set and their huge family energy set the tone for the rest of the evening. A drink later, and an American, a Mexican and an Irish entered the stage. It could be the beginning of a terrible joke, but trust me when I say those guys are no laughing matter. With their clear electric guitar, complex and groovy bass line, and sharp drum rhythm completed by sick vocal harmony, this band called the Coastline Grass Club filled the theater with a California vibe. Everybody was dancing on the timber floor when the band was playing their title, “Serenade”, the smooth voice of the lead singer transporting us to Summerland. This band sure electrified the ever-growing crowd with their music full of 2000-era retro feeling. After a quick detour to buy a chocolate croissant to avoid fainting in the middle of a set, it was time to welcome a new artist in the stone circus. “ New” is only a figure of speech for anyone who has been to any Dublin open mic at least once. Azerty is her name, and she is a well-known and respected poet, songwriter, and rapper in this city. The few who didn't already know her that night were not ready for the show she had prepared for us. Even alone on stage, Azerty is exuding charisma through every pore of her being. When she sings or raps, she knows how to channel this to increase tenfold every emotion she's trying to convey. She will sweep you off your feet, whether it’s with her raw anger talking about toxic relationships, her overwhelming confidence in an ego trip piece of music, or her funny song filled with puns about trains. Between those unfiltered moments of emotion, she briefly covered her inner volcano to ask the audience to participate in one of her songs or do a classy tribute to the NGO for which the event was organized. Her set went too quickly; we all felt like we were having a sugar rush at the end. Mind you, it might have been the effect of the chocolate croissant on my side. Between set changes, my friend and I took the time to grab a piece of meal in the Italian restaurant next door. There, taking the last piece of sun and pizza between the blue-gray shadows, We debated the documentary we had seen a couple of hours ago, refusing to exit this melting pot of creativity even for a second. Enjoying the food and talking a little too much, we returned inside a little too late. Nonetheless, we were immediately teleported a thousand kilometers away under the arcade of a Spanish marketplace, thanks to the sound of Santierra and Los Protones Errantes. Seen for the first time for me at a previous event of La Mansarda in the Cobblestone pub, they succeeded then in making us rise out of our wooden chairs and dance. Judging by the rhythmic vibration that I felt in the metal railing, it was again a flawless victory for them. Their music, a mix of ska, reggae, and Spanish folk, will make you jump for joy, wake up the dead, and cure some disease, or so I've heard. I danced so much to the chords strummed on the electro-acoustic guitar of the leading singer that I think I entirely sweated out my pepperoni pizza. Therefore, I can say that you need Santierra & Los Protones Errantes for a balanced diet, and you can thank me later for that free nutritionist advice. Following them, the writer and poetess Sarah Creighton Koegh came on stage with her friend Anie on the guitar. The light picking done by Anie beautifully decorated Sarah’s words, full of raw emotion, vulnerability, and rhythm. I particularly enjoyed how they seemed to walk a different artistic path within the same performance. Both of them painted the same feeling from a wildly different angle, thus giving us a more complete understanding of each of the poems. During those short minutes, I forgot I was in a closed room, easily reimagining the brick wall to be the ruin of a walled city serving as a backdrop for an impromptu outside session Last drink of the night for the penultimate act. Their band name is Graceless, and goddamm, they took me by surprise. The feeling in music that I'm the most receptive to is anger. And Grace's voice is like a pure shot of that. It went straight into my heart, and I wanted to take the street and start a new revolution the next minute. Her voice, which can be a small flimsy note or fill the entire room, is perfectly completed by all the other musicians. Indeed, the duo of bass and drum keeps the music tight, and they communicate perfectly together. The electric guitarist adds nice riffing decoration to the rich soundscape of this band. They came so prepared that when she broke a string, she could still finish the song, laugh it off, and fetch a whole other guitar that she brought for this eventuality. At one point, they covered Sinead O'Connor's song “A Drink Before the War”. Grace nailed that song's rich voicing and conveyed its rich emotion. During this, somebody at the height of the ramp unfolded a Palestinian flag. Our flame of revolt was so high that it did light the everlasting night for a brief moment. After this, we had nothing left to burn, so in front of our smoldering embers, Pilar and her harp came to conclude the night. My friends and I used to listen to her when she was playing her set in the Generator each Sunday evening. Even then, when she was playing in front of an ungrateful audience composed mainly of drunk students on holiday, she had this virtuoso way of picking her harp and singing that was shutting them up even for a short minute. Seeing her playing in front of a more attentive audience elevated her music to new heights. She even did a cover of the song “ Hijo De La Luna “ which was the favorite song of the stepsister that I never got the chance to know, adding an emotion to an afternoon already full of it. The lights came back on, and everybody, still haggard by the day, ruffled their way out of the room to meet at the theater entrance. Here, under the heavily decorated suspended ceiling, a relic of the past of this building, Ligia served us her traditional tiramisu, which concludes every La Mansarda Event. After a last goodbye to all my friends and some of today's musicians, I began the journey to my home. With the lingering taste of coffee on my tongue and the one of the afternoon's music in my mind, I looked back at the theater from across the Liffey, with the smoke from the Guinness factory passing over. I thought to myself: “ I can't wait to taste that again.” About the Author:
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorsExplore these blog posts, providing firsthand insights from the artists deeply connected to the La Mansarda community. Whether they graced the stage or revelled in the audience, each post unveils a distinct viewpoint on our dynamic community. Delve into the narratives to glimpse the diverse experiences shaping La Mansarda! Archives
November 2024
Categories |
RSS Feed