The confetti cannon fires up during ‘There’s a Star’. Father Christmas is on the stage, busting martial arts moves for ‘Kung Fu’. Ancient songs like ‘Petrol’ are set into the air with juvenile fizz. Hey, it’s the 30th birthday party for Ash at the Ulster Hall and all smiles are justified.
Three school pals from Downpatrick are still playing the tunes. So many of these are deep in the collective memory and more than a score of them are bona fide chart moments. Tim Wheeler keeps fetching them out like a stage magician, sustaining the wonder. The audience has aged in the interim and the band members are slightly smudged by time, but essentially, this is joyous, kids’ stuff.
Ash played an Xmas show at the Ulster Hall in 1995, supporting Therapy? They were awkward and in awe of the scale of the night, but the potential was sure. Tonight, Tim’s voice is stronger and he wears the authority of a well travelled player. Rick plays a drum solo. Mark bashes at his Gibson Explorer, three strings intact and he does the angular moves that must worry his medical insurers.
How beautiful is ‘A Life Less Ordinary’? And how does ‘Angel Interceptor’ maintain that lovely flight path? We might also make the case for recent Ash. ‘Darkest Hour’ of the Night’ is a talisman for hard times, sincerely done. Naturally, there’s a special value on ‘Shining Light’ and the mention of Royal David’s City. It’s a rock and roll nativity play, the presentation of gifts.
Nathan from Snow Patrol is onstage for ‘Orpheus’. There’s a throwback to junior Ash when they bring on the big boys from school, Barry Peak and Boyd Lowe from Backwater and they play the latter’s ‘Silver Surfer’. There’s another brilliant payback to Downpatrick when Ash afford the support slot to Charlie Hanlon, just turned 18 and already astute. ‘I Lost Myself’ grows from a hesitant busk into a big anthem, akin to Mic Christopher’s ‘Heyday’.
Damian O’Neill from the Undertones is ready for the encore and the amusing petulance of ‘Buzzkill’. We’re set for ‘Teenage Kicks’ but there’s bonus surprise as James Nesbitt takes the mic and shakes the hips. He’s making a punk rock dream come true and we’re not going to deny Jimmy the massive fun. Likewise, for ourselves. One of the best we ever had.
Stuart Bailie
Ash, Ulster Hall, 16.12.22
Chris W Ryan is wearing a baby pink jacket and sunglasses. He is every inch the charismatic conductor of the softly-spoken storm around him. Chris is Robocobra’s spokesperson, drummer and principal songwriter. Thibo and Tom play saxophone (soprano and tenor respectively). If Robocobra Quartet were a title-chasing football team, these two would play on the wings, providing crosses for their drummer to score. Their insight is polite, considered and often hilarious. 
Hannah McPhillimy’s musical debut was accidental. “I started playing when I was doing my music degree. The first time my music got out there, somebody had recorded something, and then just put it online without my permission, which I don’t think is totally ethical! So, I hadn’t put a lot of thought into branding, or how I wanted to present myself as an artist.” However, the unconventional launch of her career didn’t hold back the north coast musician. Within a few short years, McPhillimy had released her first EP and sold out a string of shows across Ireland, sharing stages with SOAK, Foy Vance and The Gloaming. 
Rory Nellis on getting the public vote for Album of the Year at the NI Music Prize for Written & Underlined
If you were exiled and homesick in the Eighties – part of that wash of Irish émigrés from a damaged island – then you may have taken recourse in a Paul Brady album, Hard Station. Alongside Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks, it was a point of focus and a reassurance. We brought the record out when the drink was in and the self-possession was due for a crash. 
The first thing I noticed was Death, standing there nine feet tall, moving silently, scythe in one hand and bony fingers pointing out on the other.
“How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives”.
“If we had forever, I still don’t think it’d be enough” sings Becky McNeice on ‘Freeze’. It’s music made for a daydream, but if you stay long enough, you’ll get something to think about. The Belfast artist’s string of pop songs have a slow-burning effect with gentle production and intimate lyrics.
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