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Scríofa ag Isabel Duff . Comhfhreagraí Gaeilge . 24/12/25 Tá an t-alt seo scríofa i nGaeilge. A short English summary is included below. Editor’s note: This piece forms part of Craic agus Ceol , An Seomra Ceol’s Irish-language column. It reflects on Sinéad O’Connor’s I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got  and its lasting emotional, cultural and political resonance. Is é I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got le Sinéad O’Connor albam na bliana domsa. D’fhás mé suas leis an albam seo ach fós, gach uair a chloisim é tharraing sé m'aird iomlán arís. Tá fhios agam go bhfuil an albam seo 35 bliain d’aois ach tá sé fós tábhachtach dúinn inniu. Sa bhliain 2025, ó a bhog mé go dtí an Fhrainc, táim beagnach go heisiach ag éisteacht le ceoltóirí Éireannacha, go háirithe Sinéad O’Connor. Bhí guth draíochtúil, cumhachtach aici a ligeann dúinn ár bpian a mhothú agus áilleacht agus míshástacht an domhain a thaithí. Bhí íogaireacht mhothúchánach aici. Ceoltóir neamhleithscéalach ab ea í agus ní bheidh a leithéid arís ann. . ENGLISH CONTEXT I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got is my album of the year. I grew up listening to this album, yet every time I hear it I am once again transfixed by Sinéad O’ Connor's magical voice and powerful lyricism. Even 35 years later, this album is as relevant as ever, and still one I always turn to, especially being homesick abroad. Sinéad O’ Connor was an unapologetic musician and there will not be the likes of her again.  Is é I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got an dara albam Sinéad O'Connor, tar éis rath a céad albam The Lion and the Cobra . Le linn na tréimhse ama idir scaoileadh. The Lion and the Cobra i 1987 agus I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got i 1990 tharla go leor eachtraí i saol O’Connor, lena n-áirítear bheith ina máthair agus a lán cáineadh géar. Is léir go bhfreagraíonn sí an chonspóid agus an tráma seo ar bhealach atá chomh láidir ach chomh mothúchánach freisin san albam seo.  ENGLISH CONTEXT Between the release of The Lion and the Cobra and  I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got, O ‘Connor became a mother and also faced a lot of harsh criticism from the media. It's clear she addresses these things and confronts a lot of past trauma in this album . MO RANGÚ Black Boys On Mopeds  Albam polaitiúil is é I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got go háirithe leis an amhrán Black Boys on Mopeds  a thugann goineog do rialtas Thatcher chomh maith le bás óige gorma de bharr na bpóilíní. Cé go scaoileadh an t-albam seo 35 bliain ó shin, níor athraigh an comhrá. Fós, tá rialtais fimíneach againn. An rialtais a cháinann marú roinnt daoine ach a bhfuil ionadh orthu faoina marú daoine eile, féach ar an gcinedhíothú i bPalaistín mar shampla. Chomh maith leis sin, fós  maraítear daoine gorma gan chúis ag lámha na bpóilíní ar fud an domhain, mar sin is amhrán tábhachtach tochtmhar é inniu. Ní fheidir é a sheanadh gur liriceoir cróga ab ea Sinead O’Connor. Osclaíonn an amhrán leis an líne, 'Margaret Thatcher on TV Shocked by the deaths that took place in Beijing It seems strange that she should be offended The same orders are given by her'.  Ba dhílis í Síneád dá luachanna agus níor chuimhnigh sí ar meas na daoine santach cumhachtacha sa domhan. Bhí grá aici do dhaoine, ealaín agus cothromaíocht, is é a spiorad agus nach féidir linn dearmad a dhéanamh orthu air.  ENGLISH CONTEXT This album is certainly political, especially the song Black Boys on Mopeds which is a not so subtle dig at Thatcher's hypocritical government at the time, and the deaths of innocent young black people at the hands of the police. These themes are certainly still relevant today! Sinead had strong morals and didn't care about appeasing the powerful selfish hypocrites of the world. She had love for people, art and equality and it's her spirit and her strength that we can't ever forget. The Emperor's New Clothes Is albam macánta é I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got agus gan dabht faighimid íogaireacht mhothúchánach ó Sinéad. É sin ráite, tuigtear gur bean láidir í Sinéad O’Connor agus tá sé sin soléir ina guth agus a cuid thuairimí. Cuireann sí ceisteanna ar rudaí agus téann sí i ngleic le creideamh coitianta. I mo thuraim féin, ní feidir a shéanadh go bhfuil an albam bunaithe ar choinbhleacht. Cloistear coinbhleacht idir mothúcháin atá nasctha le máithreachas agus grá caillte. Iniúchann sí an dóchúlacht go dtiocfadh coimhlint le cumhacht níos airde , b'fhéidir an rialtas, an tsochaí agus fiú Dia. Is é The Emperor's New Clothes ceann de mo amhráin is fearr. Is breá liom cé chomh feargach atá sé. I ndeireadh na 80idí, rinne na meáin a bearta a mhionscrúdú, go háirithe nuair a dhóigh sí pictiúr an Phopa, ba léir gur tharraing sé seo conspóid di. Ach, arís is arís, bean neamhleithscéalach ab ea Sinead O’Connor. Taispeánann na liricí The Emperor's New Clothes a cuid frustrachas agus ag an am céanna fanann sí láidir agus bródúil dá cuid gníomharthaí agus creidimh. Tá buille tapa agus rithim tógálach ag an amhrán seo. Is amhrán saghas spraoiúil agus beoga é. Is é an líne, ‘Maybe it sounds mean But I really don't think so You asked for the truth and I Told you’ dochreidte agus teiripeach chun screadadh go hard,  agus is féidir í a chur i bhfeidhm i go leor cásanna sa saol, go háirithe mar bhean sa lá atá inniu ann.  ENGLISH CONTEXT I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got is an honest album which displays Sinéad O’ Connor’s innate emotional rawness. Undoubtedly, she was a strong woman who questioned things and went against many common beliefs of how a woman should behave. I believe this album is based on conflict. Conflict in emotions regarding motherhood, love lost and higher powers such as governments and even God. The Emperor's New Clothes is one of my favourite songs. I love how angry it is. She expresses her frustration at the world, at the media who criticise her and the way she lives her life and people who have let her down. This song is fun and has an infectious beat. It's one to scream in the car to and unleash your frustration at the world, this one is for the misunderstood girlies.  I Am Stretched Out on Your Grave Ba clúdach é an dara amhrán ar an albam, léiriú O’Connor ar dhán gan ainm ón 17ú haois i nGaeilge’, táim sínte ar do thuama / I Am Stretched On Your Grave . Tá áit faoi leith ag an amhrán seol inár gcultúr. Cuireann an dán seo téamaí dúil agus cuimhne in iúl dúinn. Téama coitianta i bhfíochán na hÉireann atá le feiceáil fós inniu. Tá stair ag Éirinn de dhóchas agus éadóchas, a athraíonn uair i ndiaidh uair go áilleacht. Tá sé seo soléir san amhrán I Am Stretched Out on Your Grave. Cruthaíonn an grúpa ceol Scullion ceol do na aistriúchán Béarla don dán i 1979. Chuir O’Connor sampla de ‘Funky Drummer’ le James Brown lena meascán. Bhí a fuinneamh agus a cumas amhrán a chaitheamh ina cóir draíochtúil. Bhí sí go hiomlán í féin. Ba léir go raibh rud éigin ina guth, ina iompar fisiciúil agus a guth a bhí chomh tarraingteach.  ENGLISH CONTEXT "Sinéad took the spirit of the song, the heart of it, the soul of the song and performed it with that rhythmic undercurrent of power and despair, of love lost forever,” a dúirt Philip King (láithreoir clár raidió the South Wind Blows ar RTÉ Raidió ). “It’s in the Irish tradition of great sean-nós songs of lost love like Dónal Óg, and she nailed it. She translated that sense of Irishness in an uncanny and instinctive way. She had empathy for things that were pure, pagan and came out of the tradition.” The second track on this album I Am Stretched On Your Grave is a cover. It's a translation of a 17th century Irish poem 'Táim sínte ar do thuama’. This poem expressed themes of longing and remembrance, common themes in Irish lyrism still today. This song is an example of Ireland's history of despair and longing which transforms time and time again to beautiful poignant music. Sinéad lends this poem new life, new pain and her haunting voice. Nothing Compares 2 U  Bhí an-tóir ar an amhrán Nothing Compares 2 U . Athraíonn saol Sineád O Connor an nóiméad a scaoileadh an bhailéad sin agus a físeán tharraingteach, a imríodh ar MTV an t-am ar fad i 1990. Shroich an singil an uimhir 1 sna cairteacha ceoil ar fud an domhain, fiú sa Ríocht Aontaithe agus san Mheiriceá. Bhí a hainm ar bhéal gach duine. Amhránaí cáiliúil ba ea í ansin. Is clúdach é an t-amhrán seo i ndáiríre. Is amhrán é  Nothing Compares 2 U a scríobh Prince do a ghrúpa ‘The Family’ i 1985, ach tá i bhfad níos mó rath ag an an leagan Sinéad O'Connor. Dar liom, chuir sí a stíl féin ar an amhrán go hiomlán leis a guth draíochtúil mothúchánach. Bailéad grá caillte é. Ní gá dom tús a chur le cur síos ar chomh cumhachtach agus atá a guth sa t-amhrán seo. Tá a fhios ag gach duine! Creidim go láidir gur clasaic nua aimseartha í anois. Ba í an t-amhrán seo réamhrá dá cuid tallainne tarraingíse d’fhormhór na ndaoine. Bhí sé ceannródaíoch ag an am.  ENGLISH CONTEXT Nothing Compares 2 U is the standout hit of this album. The moment it was released, along with its captivating video that played over and over again on MTV in the 90s, life was never the same again for Sinéad O’ Connor. Prince composed this ballad but with O Connors raw powerful voice she made it her own. It was a lot of people's first introduction to Sinéad O ‘Connor and now I feel it's a modern classic. Feel So Different    Osclaíonn an albam leis an amhrán seo. Ar dtús, cloistear creathán ina glór agus a pian agus a leochaileacht. Níl móran eile le chloisteal ar dtús seachas a guth cumhachtach. Tá gach aird againn uirthi. Mothaím saghas mícompordach nuair a chloisim a guth uaigneach lom ina coinne ceol chiúin na hordchilte. Amhrán meallacach uaigneach is é Feel So Different’ . Shín O’Connor amach focail cosúil le “so ” agus “ different”  go dtí go raibh sé míchompordach é a chloisteáil Tugann sé léargas dúinn ar chuid eile den albam agus ar na deacrachtaí a bhí Sinéad ag dul tríd ag an am. Tá tionchar ag an t-amhrán seo orm ar leibhéal chomh hard sin. Braitheann mé uaigneach nuair a chloisim é, mothaím imníoch. ENGLISH CONTEXT The album opens with Feel So Different . This tune stops me in my tracks. O'Connor's pain is so visible to us, we can hear it in her shaky voice. Her voice paired with the orchestra music is so haunting, it makes me feel so lonely. She lets us into the hardship she was going through at the time.She stretches out the words ‘so’ and ‘different’ with such beautiful control when she sings, it’s confronting and makes me feel anxious and almost uncomfortable. That's the power of her voice.  I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got Críochnaíonn an albam leis an amhrán I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got. Labhraíonn sí linn go mín agus roinneann sí a ciall. Is amhrán machnaimh é seo.  ‘I have water for my journey I have bread and I have wine No longer will I be hungry For the bread of life is mine?’ Ghlac sí de réir a chéile leis a saol agus an méid atá aici. Is amhrán álainn agus draíochtúil é seo chun críoch a chur leis an albam. Thug sí léiriú ar fhearg, brón agus pian domhain tríd an albam agus anois níl aon rud fágtha aici ach síocháin agus buíochas. Amhrán simplí, macánta agus cliste é seo. I mo thuraim is cosúil le paidir nó le mantra é, is amhrán machnaimh agus slánú é ach freisin dóchas. Dóchas don chéad chaibidil eile.  ENGLISH CONTEXT The track I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got concludes this work of art. She shares her wisdom with us. This is a song of reflection and redemption but also of hope. She has expressed her deep pain and anger and now there is nothing left but hope for the next chapter. This song is like a prayer or a mantra to me, a prayer for peace, a prayer for gratitude. Nuair atá an deireadh ní ráite níl aon ‘skips’ ag an albam I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got. Feictear cumhacht agus tallann Sinéad O’ Connor sna hamhráin Last Day of Our Acquaintance , Jump In the River agus Three Babies. Sna hamhráin sin tá na liricí macánta, mothaimid mothúcháin O’ Connor agus cloisimid a guth laidir agus cumhachtach. Is breá liom an albam seo go hiomlán. Tá áit lárnach ag I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got i mo chroí agus i mo shaol.  Tá báis Sinéad O’Connor coscrach do gach uile dhuine in Éirinn. Fanann sí ar cheann de na guthanna is uathúla agus cumhachtaí a chuala an oileán riamh. Cloistear a ceol ar fud an domhain agus is méala mór a bás dá gach grúpa aoise. Tugann sé daoine le chéile. Ní bheidh a leithéid arís ann. Tallann ar leith í Sinéad O’Connor.  Image:  Sinéad O’Connor by Rob D (Belgium), CC BY-SA 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Written by Sophie Lee . Founder . 12/01/26 On Our Radar  is for artists we believe are worth noticing early. Sell Everything Dublin-based Sell Everything are immediately interesting. Bass-driven tracks like “Girls, Girls, Girls”  feel loose and playful, paired with soft, almost whispery vocals. “Landlord Blues”  stands out, there’s a moment in the track that strongly reminds me of Red Hot Chili Peppers, particularly in the way the lyrics are delivered. Thrown out casually, almost conversationally. It’s confident without trying too hard. Sell Everything feel instinctive and unforced, and they’re a band I can genuinely see going far. Mood Bored Dutch indie-rock trio Mood Bored are hard to shake once you hear them. “Lucky”  hooked me almost instantly, what makes the song work so well is the interplay between the vocals, layered without competing. It’s addictive in the best way, feeling both loose and deliberate at the same time. Croíthe Croíthe, also from Dublin, sit in a gorgeous space between post-punk and rock. Tracks like “I Heard, I Saw” carry a weight that’s felt as much through sound as through lyrics, the emotion comes through in the intensity of the guitar just as strongly as in the words themselves. “Soldier” was an instant like for me. The line “His mother cries, oh where’s my baby gone?”  is genuinely haunting. Croíthe feel like a band who value depth and honesty above all else. Still Blue Dublin-based Still Blue are pure feel-good indie pop. I first came across them in 2023 and later saw them at Indiependence in Cork, their warmth translates effortlessly live. “Ladybird”  lets Nicole Lyons’ voice take centre stage, and the band’s energy feels genuine, playful, and completely sincere. Lauren Ann Newry artist Lauren Ann blends pop with a grungier edge. “Blatent”  stands out, a darker, melancholic backdrop carrying a quieter form of female rage. It’s nuanced, honest, and immediately compelling.

By Sophie Lee & Emma Cody . Founders . 07/01/26 At An Seomra Ceol, we’re constantly listening, searching, and discovering new music. We know how frustrating it can be to find something new that actually sticks, so we thought we’d start sharing what’s been living rent-free in our heads recently. Here’s what the ASC founders have had on repeat this week.  Sophie’s rotation The Greatest Man – Lucy McWilliams This isn’t a new find for me, but it might be for you. The Greatest Man  is the song I reach for when I’m feeling nostalgic and a little bit introspective about life. It might sound dramatic to say a song can make you feel that way, but Lucy’s storytelling is so vivid and intimate that she earns it. The intro alone is unforgettable, I catch myself humming it all the time, and it’s that same intro that keeps pulling me back. Listening to this song feels like sitting with a friend who reminds you it’s okay to choose a different path, to be uncertain, to fall for the wrong person, and still hold onto the impression they leave behind. It’s soft, honest, and vulnerable in a way only Lucy McWilliams can deliver.     Better Day – Ocean Colour Scene I don’t rave about Ocean Colour Scene as much as I should on An Seomra Ceol. Emerging during the Britpop era, they gained global traction but were often overlooked with Blur and Oasis dominating the charts. Better Day  is easily one of their best tracks. It opens on sombre keyboard notes before gradually building in intensity, driven by Steve Craddock’s methodical guitar playing. There’s something about it that just makes me happy. Simon Fowler’s vocals are deeply emotive, and the band manage to blend Britpop with a subtle 70s rock feel effortlessly. I’ve been listening to OCS since I was quite literally in the womb, and I’ve never once stopped loving them.   3.   Lord, Let That Tesla Crash – CMAT It feels like every shade of grief hits this song at once. CMAT offers a glimpse into her own personal grief and somehow makes it deeply relatable. It’s a beautiful track that needs nothing more than its acoustics and that melancholic slide. Her lyrics do all the heavy lifting. CMAT is one of the best songwriters of our generation. She doesn’t rely on layered production, synths or beats to draw us in, her words alone are enough, and they’re genuinely heart-wrenching. The shift from “I don’t miss you like I should”  to “I don’t miss you because I can’t”  sends shivers down my spine every time. That change in energy feels painfully real. It has weight, and it has substance.   4.  Figure You Out – Djo This song has been a staple for me since April 2024. Djo’s use of synths feels deliberate and perfectly placed, while the underlying bassline keeps everything moving, it’s the kind of track that has you nodding along even though the lyrics are deeply reflective and make  you think. To me, Figure You Out  is all about distraction. That moment when you finally let intrusive thoughts creep in. For me, it connected to a breakup, the urge to understand someone’s thoughts, followed by overthinking every word, action, and reaction. The drums and bass really drive the track, working together to create something that stands apart on the Decide album. It’s introspective without being heavy-handed, and a credit to Djo’s artistry. Come And See – Gurriers   I won’t lie, this is my favourite Gurriers track. It tricks you into thinking it’s going to be softer, opening with what I can only describe as a mirroring guitar effect. One note rings out, then echoes back on itself, before the song slowly grows more urgent. Gurriers really use having two guitar players to their advantage here. The track moves between quiet and loud, then back again, creating this sense of spiralling. It feels unstable in the best way, like losing control and learning to sit with it. Using music itself as a way of measuring emotion feels incredibly intentional. There’s something oddly comforting about that tension. The constant shift makes the chaos feel intentional, and somehow, that makes it feel okay. Emma’s rotation Daddy’s Gonna Pay For You Crashed Car – U2 I keep coming back to this song because it sits in the uneasy space where U2 sounded fearless and slightly unhinged. It feels cynical without being preachy, and sonically it still sounds confrontational decades later. Sometimes I don’t want comfort from music, I want tension and this song delivers exactly that with something that makes you feel good. Delete Ya – Djo Djo is an artist I’ve had a massive attachment to over the last few months. Every second of every day I have one of his three albums on repeat, but Delete Ya is a song I listen to and think about constantly. It captures that specific post-breakup limbo to perfection. The Scythe – The Last Dinner Party The Last Dinner Party haven’t really been on my personal radar when it comes to listening to music, but ever since Sophie put me onto this song I’ve gained a new found respect for the band of incredibly talented women. This song unfolds slowly, letting the weight of grief and longing sit without rushing toward a release. There’s a quiet dread to it, but also tenderness, as if loss and devotion are inseparable. It’s a song that I didn’t know I needed to feel and to heal. Stay For Something – CMAT Anything CMAT will forever be a 10/10 piece of art to me. “Stay For Something” perfectly captures that messy mix of nostalgia and regret that comes with looking back on a relationship you shouldn’t have stayed in — yet somehow did. It’s that time of the New Year where nostalgia swallows you whole, that’s probably why it’s on constant repeat for me. Video Killed The Radio Star – The Buggles This song has always been a song I’ve absolutely adored. Everything about it, from it’s sound to it’s lyrics and the meaning behind it’s lyrics, is 80s perfection. This song is in the end credits of one of my all time favourite movies “The Wedding Singer” , I watched it over Christmas and it revived a love for the song I forgot a had. Total classic!

Written by Sophie Lee . Founder . 04/01/26 Some bands feel like they’re constantly reaching for something. A version of themselves they think they should be. Telebox don’t feel like that. They feel present. Grounded. Like a band more concerned with making music that makes sense to them than with explaining what it all means. That’s why Telebox make sense as An Seomra Ceol’s Emerging Creative of the Month. Telebox are a four-piece indie band from Galway, formed while still in school. The band came together quickly in 2022, almost instinctively, and played their first show not long after. That early momentum matters. It points to a band who weren’t overthinking things from the outset, more interested in playing than planning. Much of that early groundwork happened in a rehearsal space they jokingly referred to as The Bunker: a small, contained place where songs were tested, confidence was built, and the band learned how to exist together. That shared history runs deep. Joe Kelly (vocals and guitar) and Stevie Healy (drums) had been playing music together long before Telebox existed, with Conall Ó Floinn joining on guitar and Eoin Killeen on bass to complete the lineup. You can hear that familiarity in how naturally they play together, in the absence of awkwardness or overcompensation. They sound like people who’ve spent years learning each other’s quirks. They don’t present themselves as a project or a concept. They feel like a band in the most literal, uncomplicated sense of the word. What Telebox represent is a quieter kind of emergence. At a time when young artists are often expected to arrive fully formed with a defined image, a clear message, and a perfectly packaged sound, Telebox allow themselves time. They’re not rushing to sum themselves up. Instead, they’re letting repetition, live shows, and writing shape who they are. There’s something deeply reassuring in that approach. It feels honest. It feels sustainable. Sonically, Telebox sit comfortably within alternative indie, drawing from melodic indie pop and softer shoegaze textures without leaning too hard on any one influence. Their songs are guitar-led, carried by Joe Kelly’s soft, understated vocals. Their debut EP, What Is the Point? , introduced a band with a clear emotional centre. Even the title invites interpretation. Is it questioning life, ambition, or the act of pursuing music itself? It plants uncertainty before you even press play, and that sense of reflection carries through the record. The EP leans occasionally melancholic, but it’s offset by wiry, infectious, feel-good guitar lines. “Patricia” stands out immediately, with fast-paced drum beats driving a song that feels restless without tipping into chaos. It’s scattered in the best way. The title track’s intro captures the EP’s emotional core perfectly, that siren-like guitar tone sets a mood that’s quietly uneasy and instantly absorbing. Follow-up EP When Night Turns Into Day  moves into darker territory, leaning further into atmosphere. Tracks like “House on Fire” feel more urgent and fast-paced, highlighting how central rhythm is to Telebox’s sound. Their drum-forward approach works, there’s a constant push beneath the songs that never overwhelms them. On “House on Fire” in particular, the contrast between the urgent playing and Joe Kelly’s soft vocal delivery is striking. Stevie Healy’s drumming feels instinctive here, slotting into whatever the song needs without drawing attention to itself. “Glow” is a standout! its intro, with small, metallic, almost xylophone-like beats, is deeply comforting in an unexpected way. It’s on this EP that the band’s cohesion becomes most apparent. Telebox’s music comes into sharpest focus live. They’ve built their reputation through consistent gigging, playing festivals such as Electric Picnic, Sea Sessions, and Galway International Arts Festival, alongside shows in venues like Whelan’s, Róisín Dubh, Cyprus Avenue, Dolan’s, The Spirit Store, and the Ulster Sports Club. On stage, there’s no sense of overperformance. You get the feeling this is where Telebox learned how to be a band: in rooms, in front of people, figuring it out as they go. Telebox are emerging not because they lack substance, but because they’re still in motion. They haven’t arrived, and they’re not pretending they have. They’re writing, releasing, and playing consistently, building something at their own pace. This is the point where attention still matters, where being noticed feels meaningful rather than retrospective.

Written by Sophie Lee . Founder . 01/01/26 New Year’s festivities came to a magical close last night within the walls of Dublin Castle. Counting down to the new year with Inhaler felt special, but the line-up leading up to their headline set was incredible.   The matinée showcased various Irish talents, with performances from Cliffords, Madra Salach, Still Blue, and Baby Rat. Artists we’ve seen before and continue to be floored by. Florence Road and BIIRD were standouts on the night. Having covered Florence Road at Ireland Music Week, it’s clear they’re only getting better. What we witnessed last night was a band on a steady upward climb and seeing that growth first hand made us incredibly proud of our national talent.   We didn’t expect to like BIIRD as much as we did. Trad isn’t usually something we gravitate towards, yet their set was strikingly cohesive. Despite the many moving parts, every member played a visibly integral role. Seeing an all-female band command the stage with such confidence was powerful, it made us feel proud and seen. Growing up in small countryside towns, their sound unexpectedly transported us back home, a feeling we never anticipated in the heart of Dublin city.   When Inhaler finally took to the stage, the atmosphere shifted instantly. The crowd roared, it was completely electric. It was genuinely heart-warming to be surrounded by friends celebrating together, mirroring our own experience in the crowd. Opening with Open Wide , the band played with a vigour that felt new. Having collectively attended 21 Inhaler shows, the difference was impossible to miss, in their presence, their etiquette, and their playing. As the final show of the Open Wide  tour, it was nothing short of exceptional.   Ryan McMahon’s relentless drumbeat thundered beneath thousands of voices screaming lyrics back at the band. Elijah Hewson wore an expression of pure disbelief, at times almost drowned out by a crowd that knew every word by heart. One surprise inclusion in the setlist was My King Will Be Kind . The line “I fucking hate that bitch” rang out volatile and unfiltered, echoing off the castle walls. Musically, the song is deceptively simple, yet it works flawlessly. Josh Jenkinson’s acoustic strums intertwine with Elijah’s melancholy riff, creating something powerful. It was clearly inspirational enough to have the fella beside us write song lyrics (would love to know where those ended up).   My Honest Face  erupted into what felt like one massive mosh pit. Every video we took came out blurry, chaotic, and completely unusable for An Seomra Ceol but maybe that’s exactly the point. The siren-like riff blared as the crowd threw themselves. It was messy, euphoric, and unforgettable. We will never forget it.   Totally  was a clear highlight. Elijah Hewson turned the mic stand toward the crowd, letting them finish the lyrics, and there was something so deeply human about thousands of people screaming “why does it hurt me so much” in unison. That’s what Inhaler do best. Inhaler are a band that is so deeply human, they don’t pretend to be something they aren’t. They simply show up as they are, and that honesty resonates.   Everyone expected Dublin in Ecstasy to carry us into midnight, but instead, the band surprised us with It Won’t Always Be Like This  from their debut album. The lads have often said they feel they’ve never written a “hit,” yet that song stands as one of the strongest in their discography. It felt like an ode to the new year, a reminder that change is possible, that you’re not stuck where you are. As the chorus rang out, “It won’t always be like this”  it landed exactly where it needed to. It was what people needed to hear.   Fireworks burst above Dublin Castle, confetti filled the air, and just like that, 2026 arrived. There was no better way to welcome it in.

Written by Kinga Pelowska . Arts & Culture correspondent . 31/12/25 As soon as I swung the heavy metal door open a sense of stillness washed over me. Around this time of year - where every shop, café and street is filled with people trying to tick off everything from their Christmas to-do list, it can be hard to find a place where one can slow down and just be. For me one of those places has always been The Glucksman gallery. Opened in 2004 the gallery has served generations of artists, newcomer and established alike. Professor John O’Halloran, UCC’s president, has described the collaboration between the university and the gallery as having great importance on the creative spirit and the value of the Glucksman as an internationally significant space for the exploration, understanding and enjoyment of contemporary art. To me The Glucksman has always been, what I like to call, a Cork sweet-spot. It’s just on the periphery of the city, close enough to stroll to if the weather allows but far enough to get away from city madness. With one side of the gallery offering views of the river Lee and the other looking out onto the historic UCC campus, both views accompanied by the faint sound of city noise. It’s small enough not take up the whole day but has enough to offer its visitors to easily lose track of time and on a sunny December afternoon that is exactly what I needed. The Glucksman is home to a constant rotation of contemporary art. Currently housing Eilis O’Connell’s latest exhibition entitled Happenstance , curated by Katie O’Grady. A collection of pieces across each era of O’Connell’s life as an artist, a coincidental medley of pieces that aims to, in O’Connell’s words, bring joy and curiosity to the observer. Born in Derry O’Connell moved to Cork at the age of ten where she later studied sculpture at the Crawford School of Art. It was there where she found her passion for large scale sculptors, which later developed into abstract public works and commissions. In an interview for The Glucksman, O’Connell said that she has always been fascinated by the natural world, growing up in rural Derry offered little to no stimulation, this connection between nature and artist has been kept alive for over four decades. As I explored the exhibition it became evident that O’Connell didn’t gravitate towards one genre, there was no one medium or material that overpowered the space. Instead, there was an even distribution of sculptures varying in grandeur made of marble, wood, stainless steel, and even occasionally, rubber. No matter the medium the connection to nature was evident without being forced. A standout piece for me was a sculpture called Bounce created in 2010, made of stainless steel, mesh wool and wood. Hung up on a wall the steel folded within the frame and resembled ripples in water, however, what stood out to me the most was the fact that O’Connell sourced that particular piece of steel all the way back in the 80s. I later learned that O’Connell has what she likes the call her Shed of Inspiration, a place to hoard any scrap of material that might come in useful at some point in time, even if it’s thirty years later. As the artist herself said in a short film accompanying the exhibition “my life affects my work, wherever I’m going or what I see that excites me comes into my work, and that’s not something I can control”. The exhibition’s name reinforces the artist’s belief of life and the progress of her work being coincidental. It is a thought I kept nestled at the back of my mind as I took in O’Connell’s work and that thought has not left me even until now. And I have a suspicious feeling I will be taking it with me not only into the new year but into every era of my life. You can explore O’Connell’s exhibition Happenstance at The Glucksman until April 12th, 2026.

Scríofa ag Isabel Duff . Comhfhreagraí Gaeilge . 24/12/25 Tá an t-alt seo scríofa i nGaeilge. A short English summary is included below. Tá níos mó agus níos mó tóra ar an ngrúpa Madra Salach le deanaí . Is é Madra Salach grúpa ceol tíre chomh aimseartha as Baile Átha Cliath. Is iad Paul Banks (príomhamhránaí), Adam Cullen (giotár), Jack Martin (giotár agus an fheadóg mhór), Maxime Arnold (dos), Dara Duffy (drumaí) agus Jack Lawlor (dordghiotár) na baill cumasach. Ba léir go raibh 2025 blian an-mhór do na buachaillí. Scaoil siad amach dhá shingil, Blue and Gold agus I Was just a Boy agus is cinnte gur tharraing siad aird an-mheasctha ar an ngrúpa. Beidh a gcéad EP It's a Hell of an Age , a bhfuiltear ag súil go mór leis, curtha amach ar 23/01/26. Chomh maith le sin, beidh na buachaillí ag dul ar chamchuairt Éireann, Albain agus sasana an bhliain seo chugainn agus bhí éileamh an-ard ar na ticéid. Éileamh ar scála nach bhfacthas riamh cheana do ghrúpa gan EP curtha amach fós! Léiriú ar a bhfuinneamh agus a gcuid buanna ceoil is ea seo. ENGLISH CONTEXT Madra Salach are attracting more and more attention lately. They’re a contemporary Irish folk band from Dublin, made up of Paul Banks (lead singer), Adam Cullen (guitar), Jack Martin (guitar and flute), Maxime Arnold (fiddle), Dara Duffy (drums), and Jack Lawlor (bass). 2025 has been a huge year for the band. They released two singles, Blue and Gold  and I Was Just a Boy , which really helped bring widespread attention to them. Their debut EP, It’s a Hell of an Age , is highly anticipated and set for release on 23 January 2026. On top of that, the band will be touring Ireland, Scotland, and England next year, and ticket demand has been incredibly high, on a scale rarely seen for a band that hasn’t even released an EP yet. This level of demand is a clear reflection of their energy and musical ability. Bhí an t-ádh orm i rith an tsamhraidh chun seit Madra Salach a fheiceáil ag Electric Picnic sa Salty Dog (how fitting!) i mí Lúnasa. Fuinneamh agus cumha, sin iad na príomh focail atá agam chun é a chur in iúil dóibh. Bhí atmaisféar saghas draíochtúil ann agus níorbh í ach na iliomad piontaí stúit a d’óladh. Tá an-teacht i láthair iontú ar an stáitse. Is léir go bhfuil na ceoltóirí sároilte go leor agus tá mealladh na ndaoine iontú ag an am céanna. Oibríonn siad le chéile agus feictear go bhfuil sé nádúrtha agus spraíúil. Léiriú tarraingteach ab ea.Níl aon rud níos fearr ná ceol beo taobh amuigh agus an lucht féachanna ag céilíuradh Éireannachas.  Credim go bhfuil Madra Salach an freagra do mo chumha i ndiaidh an bhaile. Ó a bhog mé go dtí an Fhrainc, táim beagnach go heisiach ag éisteacht le sean-cheol na hÉireann. Thugadh The Pogues, Sinead O Connor, The Cranberries, The Waterboys agus fiú The Saw Doctors uaireanta (ní féidir a shéanadh gur banger é N17 yuppp!), sólás dom. Ceapaim go bhfuil lorg The Pogues ar an gceol Madra Salach . Ní féidir a chur in iúl i gceart cé chomh cumhachtach agus a bhí guth Paul Banks. Is féidir linn paisean agus pian a mhothú, ach tá smacht iomlán aige. Is léir an mothúchán ina ghuth i gcuimhne ar na guthanna Éireannaigh is torthúila ar nós Sinead O Connor agus Shane MacGowan. É féin, lena aicsean Éireannach dochloíte agus a ghuth láidir i measc na ceoltóirí traidisiúnta sciliúla, cuireann sé i gcuimhne dom na Pogues gan amhras. Tá an athbheochan Cheilteach ar siúl agus tá bród an domhain orm.  ENGLISH CONTEXT I was lucky enough over the summer to see Madra Salach  play a set at Electric Picnic  in the Salty Dog (how fitting!) in August. They have a powerful stage presence. It’s clear that the musicians are highly skilled and that they draw people in at the same time. There’s nothing better than live music outdoors, with the crowd celebrating Irishness together. I believe Madra Salach are the answer to my homesickness. Since I moved to France, I’ve been listening almost exclusively to old Irish music. The Pogues, Sinéad O’Connor, The Cranberries, The Waterboys, and even The Saw Doctors at times (you can’t deny that N17 is a banger, yuppp!) have brought me comfort. I think you can hear the influence of The Pogues in Madra Salach’s music. It’s hard to properly express just how powerful Paul Banks’ voice is. You can feel both passion and pain, yet he has complete control. The emotion in his voice clearly recalls some of the most powerful Irish voices, such as Sinéad O’Connor and Shane MacGowan. With his unmistakable Irish accent and strong voice among skilled traditional musicians, he undoubtedly brings The Pogues to mind. The Celtic revival is alive and well, and I couldn’t be prouder. D'fhág mé mo chroí in Éirinn, i dtigh tabhairne le amhránaí sa chúinne ag casadh amach na hamhráin Chlasaiceacha Éireannacha, fuarbholadh beoir, bord adhmaid agus gáire ard. Is léir go bhfuil saghas brón glúine ag daoine na hÉireann, ach is sinne atá ag gáire is airde de chách. Tá cursaí difriúl sa Fhrainc. Is minic a shiúlaim thart tríd an cathair álainn agus beomhar, gach rud ag athrú ar luas lasrach, ach fós is é mian mo chroí istigh é a bheith i bpub le ceoltóir sa choirnéal, agus gan aon rud athrú. Tá paisean againn in Éirinn. Tá muid mothúchánach ach bíonn an craic againn. Feictear domsa go mbíonn seo le feiceáil i gceol Madra Salach . Tugann Madra Salach deis dom le dul ag spaisteoireacht ar chosán na seanchuimhní. Cuireann siad beocht sa cheol. Is ceoltóir an-chumasach é gach duine sa ghrúpa seo. Is é I Was Just a Boy ceann de mo amhráin is fearr liom ó 2025. Tosaíonn sé go mall, ag tógáil mothúcháin agus ionchais agus ansin BOOM éiríonn sé níos gasta. Tosaíonn an t-amhránaí ag screadaíl agus seinneann na ceoltóirí go hard, ag taispeáint an chumas ollmhór. Beidh tú faoi dhraíocht ag an gceol, go háirithesa chuid uirlise den amhráin. Cuireann an t-amhrán sin mé i gcaillteanas iomlán ama. Is cinnte go bhfuil na scealaíochta tradisiúinta ag liricí madra salach go háirithe a gcéad singil Blue and gold agus gan amhras tá gné ceol tradisiúinta acu ach níl siad ‘seanfaiseanta’ ina gcuid leiriú. Is saothar dáiríre ealaíne é seo. Ag an am céanna, bíonn an craic acu ar an stáitse, daoine nádúrtha iad. Grúpa soléir Éireannach le scéalíocht agus ceol tradisiúinta ach, tá rud nua aimseartha acu. Feictear domsa tionchar 80s agus 90s ‘alternative indie’ agus go leor fuinneamh agus cruthaitheacht, chomh maith le ceol traidisiúnta.  Cuireann sé cumha ort ach ag an am céanna fadcheannach Ní feidir linn iad a chur i mbosca ‘trad’ amháin, ach tugann siad brí nua sa ceol na hÉireann sa la atá inniu ann. Níl aon daoine eile ag déanamh sé seo.  Gan aon amhras ar bith beidh an chamchuairt ráthúil. Táim ag tnúth go mór le Madra Salach a fhéiceal arís (Tar go dtí an Fhrainc le do thoil!!). Freisin táim ag iarraidh The Man Who Seeks Pleasure ceann de na hamhráin is áille a chuala mé riamh, a bheith scaoilte leis an EP. Credim go láidir go mbeidh an grúpa seo chomh mór le bannaí cosúil le Fontaines DC go luath.  ENGLISH CONTEXT This article reflects on homesickness, Irish identity, and the emotional power of music while living abroad. It contrasts the fast-moving, constantly changing pace of life in France with the timeless comfort of Irish pub culture, a space defined by live music, laughter, shared emotion, and familiarity. Irish people are portrayed as carrying a deep-rooted sadness while still being the loudest laughers in the room, a duality that sits at the heart of Irish culture. Madra Salach’s music becomes a bridge back to home, offering a sense of memory, comfort, and connection. Their sound blends traditional Irish storytelling and musical elements with modern alternative and indie influences from the 1980s and 1990s. Tracks such as I Was Just a Boy  demonstrate this dynamic approach, beginning slowly before erupting into powerful, emotionally charged moments that showcase the band’s full instrumental strength. Their debut single Blue and Gold further reinforces their commitment to storytelling, while refusing to be confined to a single “trad” category. Rather than simply reviving traditional Irish music, Madra Salach reimagine it for the present day, creating something both nostalgic and refreshing. Go raibh Míle Isabel. This a brand new segment called Craic agus Ceol written by our Gaeilge Correspondent Isabel Duff. As an Independent, Irish platform we believe that it is vital to keep the Irish language alive, and that it is important to celebrate our heritage.

Live at Cyprus Avenue, Cork By Sophie Lee . Founder . 21/12/25 There are some gigs you remember vividly, and others you remember in fragments. Moments of noise, flashes of light, a voice cutting through the room. Gurriers fall firmly into the latter category. By the time Gurriers took the stage, the room was already loud with anticipation. They opened with Erasure , their recent single. From the start, frontman Dan Hoff wasn’t just singing, he was screaming, but in a way that felt controlled and intentional. Not chaotic for the sake of it, but like something that needed to be said loudly. The guitars stood out straight away. Mark MacCormack and Ben O’Neill brought two distinct sounds to the stage - sharp, almost screeching tones that felt closer to an alarm than a riff. It was abrasive and jarring in the best way, constantly keeping you on edge. At times it felt overwhelming, but that’s where Gurriers thrive. There’s an unmistakable Dublin post-punk thread running through it all. Hoff delivers his lyrics in a way that recalls early Fontaines D.C., not just sonically, but in attitude. That feeling that Hoff isn’t performing at the crowd, but telling them something directly, his accent grounding every word. Des Goblin  was a proper headbanger moment. Loud, relentless, and physical. The kind of track that doesn’t give you much choice but to move with it. One of the most striking moments of the night came during Sign of the Times . Hoff came practically into the crowd as the music behind him dropped back, leaving his voice exposed. In that quiet, you could really hear him. The track’s slightly gritty bassline crept in first before the rest of the instrumentation kicked back, and live, that tension hit hard. Top of the Bill  sent things into full chaos. The stage lights went wild, matching the urgency of the track and the band’s intensity. It felt frantic. They closed with Nausea , ending the set on an uneasy note. The volume, the noise, the sheer wall of sound made the room feel almost claustrophobic, nervous and overwhelming, but in the best possible way. It wasn’t a comfortable ending, and it wasn’t meant to be. The current Gurriers lineup sees Dan Hoff on vocals, Mark MacCormack and Ben O’Neill on guitars, Charlie McCarthy on bass, and Pierce Callaghan on drums. Even if the finer details blur together, the feeling lingers. Gurriers aren’t a band you neatly remember song by song, they’re a band that feel capable of reshaping what modern Irish post-punk looks like.

Soda Blonde live at Cyprus Avenue, Cork. By Sophie Lee . Founder . 17/12/25 I’ve written about Soda Blonde before, but this was my first time seeing them live and it felt long overdue. Cyprus Avenue feels like the perfect venue for a band like this. It’s intimate without ever feeling claustrophobic, close enough that you feel everything. I told Emma that by the end of the night she’d fall in love with Soda Blonde, and I wasn’t wrong. At the barrier, we met a fan who’d followed the band since their Little Green Cars days, which only reinforced what became increasingly clear as the night went on: this is a band that has grown without losing its grounding. Talented, yes, but also genuinely humble and deeply human. A special mention has to go to the opener, The Next New Low (Brian Mooney). Exceptional feels like an understatement. Alone on stage with just a guitar and a pedal board, Brian was completely himself, singing from a place that felt rooted in a pure love for music. Hurt People  stopped me completely. It’s one of those songs that makes you go still. Writing this now while listening back to it, Emma and I pulled the same face, that frown you make when something is beautiful but heavy. Brian’s music doesn’t feel made for everyone. It feels made because it needed to be. Nothing about his work feels mass-produced. It’s simple, stripped-back, and sincere. Seeing him live was a real privilege. When Soda Blonde finally took to the stage, all intentions of note-taking disappeared. As much as I wanted to document everything properly, I couldn’t. At the end of the day, I was just a girl watching one of her favourite bands. They opened with I Hear Birdz , which in hindsight was the perfect choice. It was powerful and immediate, pulling the crowd in straight away. Faye O’Rourke has a presence that feels entirely natural, like she was always meant to be on a stage. What I love most about Soda Blonde is how cohesive they are. They play off each other constantly, exchanging glances, moving together. Faye drifts instinctively towards Adam and Donagh, and nothing ever feels choreographed, it just works. When Motion  started, I nearly lost my mind (no pun intended). It’s my favourite Soda Blonde song, and live it hits much harder. Faye’s dancing is unrestrained and a little chaotic, but it fits the music perfectly. Adam and Donagh never stay still either, clearly having the time of their lives. Dylan’s drumming deserves its own praise. It's striking, steady, grounding everything. Adam’s backing vocals lift Faye’s effortlessly. Motion  is an exceptional song, one that resonates deeply with young people. It makes me feel seen. They also played In the Heat of the Night , which ended up being one of the strongest moments of the entire set. The intro alone pulls you in, that steady, pulsing beat, bodum bodum bodum bodum , before the line “the things we say in the heat of the night” lands and the crowd diverts immediately. Throughout the night, the band were incredibly interactive with the crowd, creating a constant back-and-forth that made everything feel shared rather than performed. It’s especially impressive when you remember that Soda Blonde are a fully independent band, releasing their music on their own terms. Nothing about it feels small, if anything, it makes their connection with the audience feel even more genuine. I don’t remember every detail of the setlist, and honestly, that feels fitting. This wasn’t a gig where you mentally ticked off songs, it was one where you felt everything first. One moment that’s stayed with me was Champion of My Time , written about Faye’s mum. The room went quiet. The crowd didn’t just listen — they really listened. There’s something incredibly powerful about that kind of collective stillness. It made me unexpectedly emotional. It’s an incredibly brave song, to be that open with an audience. They also played Why Die for Danzig  and Less Than Nothing  from Dream Big , performed live with the National Symphony Orchestra. That project alone speaks volumes about Soda Blonde as artists, involving so many people, yet never feeling self-indulgent or overblown. Even while performing songs born from something so vast, the band remained completely grounded in the music. That humility carried through to the end of the night. While buying a signed vinyl and CD, they seemed genuinely delighted that people were connecting with their work. Not performatively grateful, just sincerely happy that their art was being appreciated. Terrible Hands  brought a completely different energy. It was pure joy. Adam, Faye, and Donagh came together at the front of the stage, standing shoulder to shoulder, and the atmosphere lifted instantly. Emma and I had so much fun during that one. They closed the set with Small Talk , and it felt like the perfect ending. During the instrumental, Faye stepped back and gave the lads the stage, allowing their playing to shine. She danced, clearly loving the music, not performing at  the crowd, but sharing the moment with them. It really was an amazing gig. Soda Blonde are a band that deserve to be listened to. Properly, attentively, emotionally. If you give them your time, they give you something back. This night made that undeniable. Terrible Hands (Excuse my awful singing)

A look inside the small Cork venue that has housed music legends By Sophie Lee . Founder . 27/11/25 Photography by Ciaran Foley It’s funny really, I walk past Cyprus Avenue to and from work most days, and only recently have I stopped and thought about how unassuming this venue actually is. From the outside, you’d never know that it has housed industry powerhouses early in their careers. Located right in the heart of Cork’s city centre, it’s a fairly small room, but its intimacy is what makes it special. For so many of us, getting the chance to see big mainstream artists here before  they blew up feels like a dream in hindsight. Having been to countless gigs there myself, I’d say Cyprus Avenue has the same atmosphere and character as The Button Factory, except with that unmistakable Cork charm. I’ve always preferred intimate gigs over huge productions, and Cyprus Avenue is one of the few remaining smaller venues in Ireland that still carries that magic. It encapsulates the feeling of Cork perfectly: a genuine sense of community, creativity, and pride that runs through our city’s music scene. Cyprus Avenue first opened its doors in 2003 under Ger Kiely, the owner of The Old Oak bar, and ever since, it has been an anchor of Cork’s live music scene. With a capacity of around 500, it captures that rare “big enough to feel electric, small enough to feel personal” balance. One of the things I love most about Cyprus Avenue is how versatile it is, it doesn’t discriminate by genre. I’ve been at raves, techno nights, indie shows, local bands, touring acts. Every experience feels different. Venues like Cyprus Avenue are vital to Ireland’s music ecosystem. They give emerging artists the room to grow, connect with audiences, and make mistakes before they step onto bigger stages. They offer a community space, high-quality entertainment, and a sense of belonging that only a Cork venue can deliver. If there’s one person who will read this article repeatedly, it’s ASC’s co-founder Emma Cody, a Dublin native who is absolutely obsessed with Cyprus Avenue. Our favourite band, Inhaler, played here in their early days, long before the crowds got bigger. That’s really the point: you never quite know who you’re seeing at Cyprus Avenue. A band who seem small now could be headlining arenas in a few years. I remember my guitar teacher telling me when I was eighteen that he’d seen Inhaler play at Cyprus Avenue when no one knew who they were. People were drifting in and out, half-listening, and now look at them. They’ve since headlined St. Anne’s Park and played the 3Arena. That’s the magic of venues like this. It’s not just Inhaler. So many huge artists have passed through Cyprus Avenue: Declan McKenna, Snow Patrol, The Coronas, Mumford & Sons, Ocean Colour Scene, Billy Bragg, The Darkness, The Undertones, The Frank and Walters, Pillow Queens, and that’s only naming a few. As it’s a smaller venue, the sound quality in Cyprus Avenue is always exceptional. Artists can fill the room effortlessly. It’s never too crowded or sweaty, and the bar is conveniently located just behind the venue space, making the whole experience relaxed and easy. There’s an intimacy to Cyprus Avenue that you just can’t recreate in bigger venues. Venues like Cyprus Avenue matter now more than ever. After Covid, the creative industry has made a huge comeback, but it’s places like this that we need to protect. Without smaller venues, local and rising talent would have nowhere to grow. Ireland is producing exceptional talent, Cork especially, and spaces like Cyprus Avenue remain vital in keeping those local music scenes alive. Cyprus Avenue may be small, but its influence is anything but. It’s a home for Cork music, a starting point for rising artists, and a venue that makes every gig feel personal. In a country where Dublin often dominates the spotlight, Cyprus Avenue stands as proof that some of Ireland’s most prominent talents begin quietly, right here in Cork.

An Seomra Ceol By Sophie Lee . Founder . 08/12/25 This week delivered some of the most politically charged and culturally significant Irish music news in recent times. Alongside major releases, arena-level announcements and the first signs of festival season returning. Here’s everything that shaped this week across Irish and global indie, rock and pop. RTÉ Confirms Ireland Will Not Compete in the Eurovision Song Contest 2026 RTÉ confirmed this week that Ireland will not take part in Eurovision 2026, following widespread criticism across Europe surrounding Israel’s participation while the humanitarian crisis in Gaza continues. In the months leading up to this decision, artists, fans and organisations repeatedly called on broadcasters to acknowledge the human cost behind the headlines. RTÉ’s withdrawal places Ireland among several countries who have chosen to step back rather than continue with business as usual. While Eurovision has long been a staple of Irish pop culture, this moment feels bigger than the contest itself. It reflects how deeply global conflict now intersects with music, media and public conscience and how cultural institutions are being asked to respond in real time. Inhaler Release “Hole In The Ground” + “Nightcall” cover On 28 November, Inhaler officially launched their next era with: Their brand-new single “Hole In The Ground” heavy cover of “Nightcall” The dual release marks their first major release since their last album "Open Wide", with fans already picking up on a darker shift in sound. It feels like the clear beginning of a new creative chapter. CMAT Announced for Major Belfast Outdoor Show (2026) CMAT was officially confirmed this week for a headline outdoor Belfast show in 2026, adding another major standalone date to her expanding live calendar. Her Euro Country  era continues to scale beyond album success into full outdoor headline territory, a level currently occupied by very few Irish artists. Kneecap Announce Headline 3Arena Show (2026) Kneecap will headline the 3 Arena on the 16 & 17th of December. Their rise from underground venues to Ireland’s largest indoor arena reflects a major shift in what Irish alternative success now looks like (politically, culturally and commercially). Festival & Live Scene Developments Electric Picnic 2026 — First Line-Up Wave Revealed The first wave of Electric Picnic 2026 has officially landed, with early confirmations already placing Irish acts at the centre once again. With homegrown talent sharing space with major international names, EP26 is already shaping up as another statement year for Ireland’s position within the global festival circuit. For more on the EP26 lineup, read our feature article. Global Highlights The Cure Hint at Studio Activity After Late-2025 Live Run After a string of late-2025 live dates, members of The Cure have hinted that studio work may be resuming. If confirmed, this would mark their first full creative chapter in over a decade, one of the most anticipated potential returns in alternative music. Bright Eyes Announce Full-Album Anniversary Shows for 2026 Bright Eyes have announced a run of massive 2026 anniversary shows where they’ll perform both I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning and Digital Ash in a Digital Urn in full. With dates set for Red Rocks, the Hollywood Bowl and Forest Hills Stadium, this feels like one of those rare moments where indie nostalgia meets genuine cultural weight. A huge win for the early-2000s alt generation. Geese Finish 2025 as One of Rock’s Most Unpredictable Acts Following a completely sold-out North American tour and overwhelming critical praise, Geese are closing out 2025 as one of the most exciting and volatile rock bands in circulation right now. Their latest album Getting Killed has positioned them as a chaotic, emotional torch-bearer for modern alternative rock and it’s only accelerating. Water From Your Eyes Drop Surprise Experimental EP Ahead of 2026 Touring Brooklyn duo Water From Your Eyes have surprise-released a new EP, "It’s Beautiful", reworking tracks from their previous album into stranger, more distorted forms. It’s glitchy, unsettling and very on-brand for where underground indie is heading into 2026, inward, experimental and slightly uncomfortable. Recommended Listening This Week “Hole In The Ground” - Inhaler “Euro Country” - CMAT “Better Way To Live” - Kneecap "Taxes" - Geese Upcoming Gigs & Events (2026) CMAT — Belfast Outdoor Show — 2026 (31 Aug) Kneecap — 3Arena, Dublin — 2025 (16th & 17th Dec) Electric Picnic 2026 — August, Stradbally Major Irish tour announcements expected throughout January Emerging Irish Artists to Watch — Weekly Discovery Core CLIFFORDS Sound: Indie Rock Recent release: Marsh MADRA SALACH Sound: Folk, Alternative Recent release: I was just a boy LITTLE KNOWN Sound: Alternative, Indie Recent release: Headwreck

Why do we miss a time we didn't grow up in? By Sophie Lee . Founder . 05/12/25 All week, my feed has been filled with grainy footage from concerts in the 80s and 90s. Artists without autotune, without filters, just raw vocals and emotional storytelling. Most of us never saw these bands in their prime, yet we feel deeply connected to them. For me, it’s watching Thom Yorke’s voice crack as he sings, Bono sharing a mic with Springsteen, or the intensity of Depeche Mode's Devotional tour. It fills me with this strange, suffocating nostalgia that I can’t fully explain. So why are we obsessed with music we didn’t grow up with? I think TikTok is a huge part of it. Suddenly, the algorithm hands us back guitar solos, live sessions, and vintage tour clips. We scroll past Mark Knopfler playing immaculate riffs, crowd-shot Oasis concerts, footage of Blur taking the piss, and it feels like we’re seeing something freer. The industry seemed less filtered then. People were less media-trained. Music wasn’t polished, it wasn’t algorithm-tested, and it certainly wasn’t built for virality. It was just about the music. In a way, I think Irish artists are tapping into that same energy: Gurriers are echoing late-90s noise bands. Fontaines D.C. are rewriting post-punk heritage. CMAT blends Americana and folk storytelling. NewDad, The Cardinals, so many acts are reaching back into alternative themes.   Old music hits harder because it feels sincere. It’s imperfect in a way that makes it perfect. Bands back then were unapologetically themselves. They weren’t performing for online approval or fighting for playlist placement. They existed to play, to create, to be understood, and maybe that’s why those clips hurt a little. Not because we missed the era, but because we still recognise it. We see pieces of it here, in small Irish venues where young artists are figuring things out in real time, playing songs that don’t have marketing strategies behind them. Rooms where the sound isn’t perfect and someone’s guitar is slightly out of tune, but the crowd is locked in because it means something. Maybe that’s what makes Irish music so exciting right now: it hasn’t forgotten the rawness.     The Sincerity That Holds It All Together What ties these older artists together and why their music hits so deeply even for people who weren’t alive when it was released — is sincerity. There’s a raw honesty in older music that you almost never see replicated today, and you can feel it not just in the songs, but in their words. In 1985, Bono said something that’s always stuck with me: “I think we make very bad rock n’ roll stars… our audiences know us better than we know ourselves, and they see in U2 a band that’s fallen on its face so many times.” He was admitting that what people connect with isn’t ego, it’s vulnerability, flaws, and the willingness to get back up. That’s sincerity. Jeff Buckley understood this deeply too: “Every emotion has a sound. My identity forms my music.” There’s something so utterly honest in that. No branding strategy. No algorithm bait. Just music as a mirror. It’s messy, emotional, painfully human. Thom Yorke once said: “The most essential thing in life is to establish heartfelt communication with others.” Maybe that’s why Radiohead performances feel like being punched in the chest, you’re watching someone try to express a part of themselves that can’t exist in language. Dave Gahan of Depeche Mode said it in the most poetic way: “I will sing with joy. I will end up dust. Enjoy what you have here — you’re not going to be here forever, but the songs stay forever.” There’s something holy in that. Art outliving the body. Songs becoming proof that we existed, felt, and tried. Maybe That’s Why When I see grainy live clips of these artists, I don’t just feel nostalgia. I feel sincerity. I feel humanity. I feel the reminder that music used to be about connection rather than consumption. So maybe that’s why our generation clings so tightly to old music we didn’t grow up with: Because it reminds us of something we’re still trying to find.