Luminous Void -Triskel Arts Centre



Luminous Void:

Performance by Vicky Langan /
Screening of Stone Boat Exhausted by Open Night Cinema

8pm, Thursday May 5th
Triskel Project Space, Cork

The second of three screening/performance events that punctuate the Experimental Film Society exhibition Luminous Void at Triskel Project Space will take place this Thursday, May 5th.

Cork-based artist Vicky Langan's emotionally charged performances envelop audiences in an often troublingly intense aura of dark intimacy. In opening herself emotionally, she creates private rituals that at once embrace the viewers and remain resolutely private. Her practice operates across several fields, chiefly performance, sound, and film. This live performance kicks off a week of her film collaborations with Maximilian Le Cain being screened on loop as part of the exhibition. This phase of Luminous Void runs concurrently with Triskel's Deep Focus: Women in Film Festival.

"There are some musicians who entertain us, fine; some who stimulate us, better; and then some who immerse us in something so powerful that, almost, primal emotions surface instantly; making us ultra-defensive, or, finally open to illumination. One of the latter is Vicky Langan... You may love her, hate her, be astonished, be repelled-but you will not be unmoved. Promise. In a world of bland s**te we need to treasure artists like this -even if they burn... ” — Bernard Clarke, NOVA, RTÉ Lyric Fm

Stone Boat Exhausted arises from the Open Night Cinema project by filmmaker Michael Higgins and performer Cillian Roche. This feature film documents an entirely improvised cinematic experience by members and friends of Open Night Cinema (ONC).

“Essentially, to talk about dimensions of Ireland is to talk about modes and moods of seeing. Seek for Fódhla not on horseback riding northwards, nor in a boat sailing westwards. Seek her in seeing.” – John Moriarty

A totemic walkabout through a single cycle of John Moriarty’s Dreamtime, Stone Boat Exhausted is a waking nightmare spawned from the id of Dublin City’s decaying industrial zones. The textures and patterns, light and shadows and the very material of sound and image construct an experience that re-realises our cultural past, present and future in one metamorphic breath.

Stone Boat Exhausted incorporates the use of analogue film projection, live improvised soundscapes and intense vocal and physical performances. It is the result of six months of ongoing collaborative performances. Devised and produced by Michael Higgins and Cillian Roche in collaboration with members and friends of ONC, Guerilla Aerial and Unbend Legout, and with kind permission from Lilliput Press.

If You Could Read My Mind — Vicky Langan at Café OTO

Penultimate Press and Kye weekend at Cafe OTO, London. October 18th 2014

Footage shot by Maximilian Le Cain

If You Could Read My Mind — Vicky Langan at Café OTO

by Fergus Daly


An early evening in the present.

Café OTO stage.

Front centre a small table, containing tape player, CD player, microphone, sheet of paper, hydrophone, glass of water, Alka-Seltzer and box of matches.

Sitting at the table, facing front, a twenty-something woman: Vicky Langan.

Dressed in white dress and white sheer shrug.

Near darkness, the only light provided by flickering 8mm images behind Langan.


Yes, Langan’s performance begins like a Beckett play, one can't help but think of Krapp’s Last Tape. There’s a lot at stake here, in this minimalist performance, the artist inventing her own genealogy, somewhere between Cage and Beckett.

Vicky Langan’s is a sound performance but with important visual elements What exactly are we faced with? A variety of sounds emitted by an assortment of lo-fi technological devices, a body and its gestures, an impassive countenance, all barely perceptible (the video documentation using night vision gives a slightly distorted impression of the visibility of the performance that needs to be mentally compensated for, the dimness of the light seems essential to its success).

Performance art has always had as its goal to undo the image of thought that privileges interiority and posits an internal self that transcends the body and the external world and that grounds the idea of an artist communicating her innermost feelings to an audience. To a large extent contemporary art can be defined by its construction of a plane of experimentation, of 'immanence' prior to subjects and objects. Deleuze challenged Kant's contention that what is given to our faculty of knowledge is known only by virtue of its conforming to the a priori principles of our intuition and understanding - the French philosopher wanted thinking to live in the space hollowed out between intuition and understanding, setting space and time, the forms of sensation, free of the categories and syntheses of a unifying 'I think'. Art would then be experimentation with sensation, with what can only be sensed and which would be subject to the new kinds of a-categorical syntheses found in artworks. Therefore, to a large extent contemporary art can be defined by the unique ways it discovers to sever space and time from the understanding, re-orienting or dis-orienting its concepts and practices.

At Cafe OTO Vicky Langan is certainly not wearing her emotions on her sheer shrug sleeve. A major challenge for contemporary audiences is to abandon common sense notions of interiority and the artist’s communication of prepared ideas or emotions supervised by the inner solidity of the ego. The contemporary artist’s aim is to create spatial and temporal possibilities and experiences for the viewer/listener. Langan’s performance is an assault on interiority, an anti-neurosis, the construction of a self that’s like a vessel for externalized forces; not remembering, still less contemplating, merely being. There’s no concern for gestures and attitudes that attempt to lend a truthfulness to a character as in a theatrical performance - Langan has no interest in us reading her mind, second-guessing the psychological struggle that has led her to lay these sound fragments before us. Resisting interiority and psychology, the emphasis now lies on potential, virtual, strength that is channelled into the minimal gestures that act less as a guard-rail against the outside world than a force to keep memories and personal attachments at bay that have been exorcised elsewhere. There is expression but it’s in no way assignable to the performer.

It isn’t for nothing that we invoked Krapp, Becketts effort to rewrite Proust but without the crucial involuntary memory. Beckett didn’t need that catalyst to creativity as his interest lay elsewhere, not in the opening up of possibilities but in exhausting them: staging the clash between live performer and machinery involving taped memory allowed his character alternately to search for and repress his memories permanently archived in technology, his voluntarist approach to memories rendered possible by their accessibility on imperfectly catalogued spools of audio-tape.

I feel Langan is closer to Proust but seeks to render memory even more impersonal. If for Krapp it’s the voice that invokes time, for Langan, like Proust’s Marcel, it’s material sound: if, for example, in In Search of Lost Time, the contact between spoon and plate is one precipitant of involuntary memory, in Langan’s case it may equally be gaseous or liquid sound that opens up temporal possibilities and experiences for the viewer/listener, channeling the past into the rhythmic nature of an event that captures something of the ineffable.

It’s as if the Proustian battle with the madeleine, the involuntary evocation of Combray it provoked, that had for so long shackled him to the past and led to the near-infinite procrastination of his passage to total creativity, has already been waged in the wings, before Langan’s performance begins. Now she only has to play the part of conduit for her relationship to the 'noisy past' (as Michel Serres says, where there’s technology, where there’s a channel, there must be noise.)

It’s a delicate operation, constructing this passage to exteriority. In her demeanour Langan often seems not self-possessed but other-possessed (little wonder the notion of witchcraft was invoked in reaction to Langan’s performance), as if present at her own absence.

It is no easy task to maintain open all the possibilities of sound with no reference to anything outside itself and a greater feat still to multiply the specific sounds (personally collected and recorded) - voices, animal and metal sounds, recordings of activities, for example, pushing a heavy box around an empty building - without falling into the trap of arbitrariness.

Necessity must be constructed, the specific space-time of the performance-event must be rendered a consistency that becomes its necessity. How will we recognise this necessity, this factor that makes it ‘work’ like a machine? We hear the judgment so often today, ‘it worked’, ‘it didn’t work’. With the contemporary artwork its success may often seem undefinable in any other way. I am reminded of Chantal Akerman’s account of editing her first installation piece:

We rolled the 3 tapes with a few minutes delay between them, after some time I shouted (to the editor Clare Atherton) 'it's working!' - it worked for 4 minutes, then I said 'it’s not working any more'. [And] after I saw La Captive I thought 'How come I made it work?' I’ve no idea. Some films you do very well, you do everything you should, and it has no grace. Why?

This ‘why?’ isn’t the artists problem, if anyones it’s the critic’s: “the role of the artist is to be conductive rather than creative in any conventional sense. An artist selects a set of potentials and sets them in motion. She renders them sensible – and therefore connectable – but stops short of prescribing how such connections must be made” (JE Panzner).

How can we refine Akerman’s notion of grace? At Cafe OTO the moments of grace come from Langan’s fragile and intimate manner of marshalling these externalized objects of sound. Perhaps the first principle of ‘grace’ is a sense of artistic honesty, and the second may be the avoidance of any pre-ordained method; nothing must be pre-programmed, there can be no clear idea underpinning the actualization of the piece that would permit another iteration elsewhere: it’s a time-based form of search and research allied to the skill to let things happen as gracefully as possible. The resulting artwork represents nothing, it simply (or otherwise) is: this situation, this space, this moment. If there is a ‘musical score’ for Langan it is constructed in the event: “it is only the contingent encounter, the unexpected action, the unrecognized noise, which can spur the transformative movement in thought” [Deleuze].

How strange to have an idea with Alka-Seltzer! The source of Langan’s sound materials may be raw, heart-breaking, profoundly personal, but the artist’s task is to transform these sensations into a three-dimensional experience through exteriorizing the possible connective, conjunctive and disjunctive relationships between them, employing the technological support to persistently adjust timbre and to foreground the materializing qualities of the recordings. Any tendency in the audience to behavioural habit or perceptual and affective cliché is challenged as they are led to seek out the sensations and secret movements in the sound vibrations and fluxes of Langan’s montages. If there is unity, it’s the fleeting sense of A Singular Event being ceaselessly reinvented, this inner consistency that prevents the piece from descending into arbitrariness. Having done with the question ‘what does it mean?’ opens up an attentiveness to movements and sensations prior to any subject formation, “the anonymous, pre-linguistic inner movements of the psyche” (as Sarraute put it). The artist-conduit open to the forces passing through them employs procedures/strategies to prevent, as Beckett put it, any factor from ’solidifying the flowing’. Freeing an event always involves defying recognition, not allowing the perceiver to organise the givens of the piece into a pre-existent narrative that denies its novelty.

The visual aspect seems essential to Langan’s performance. On one hand, hissing crackling fizzing plopping exhaling sizzling sounds, on the other a body, waiting shifting arching resting reaching - scrambling the faculties as when Deleuze says that cinema can “constitute a sort of visual music, as if it is the eyes that grasp the sound first.” Two series that come together, intertwine, separate, reunite, creating a rhythm that not only lends the event necessity and consistency but allows the audience to grasp these fleeting sensations as embryonic ideas, thinking-feelings, like thought-clouds that disperse as soon as you try to hang onto them (unformed memories, unnameable sensations, spectral affects or time in a nascent state, neither past nor present, a time of birth and creation):

“when noise successfully drives an act of thought, it is the intrusion of the outside into a system, forcing that system to break down and rebuild in an attempt to maintain stasis. This interference is a motor of creation - the transmission of noise stimulates the system to develop, to become different in spite of attempts to stay the same. Bodies engage with the empirical environment by means of noise, and the engagement is thought itself. True thought is a transfer of noise.” (Sean Higgins)

Late in the performance Langan strikes matches and amplifies the sound made from burning her underarm hair. But simultaneously the burning matches alter the lighting of the scene entirely so that the whole network of relations between the objects and the body (as one object amongst the others) is altered. The spectral quality of this personal (externalized) sound archive now becomes more (perhaps excessively) actual - the boundaries established at the outset (in almost total darkness) shift and there’s a sense of a sudden, unexpected evolution as the viewer seizes on the revelation of a body or body fragment to attach the sounds to. Langan seems to take the risk of characterization, of personalizing the event. There is the danger of a narrative developing in the viewer’s mind at this point that might carry them over the final minutes of crow caws, clanging bells and whimpering dogs, solid forms destroying the general sense of nascency. But this too is a fleeting thought - for most viewers it is a literal flash of lightning, a radical shift in levels of attention giving rise to a revenant hovering over the space that Langan has carved out in OTO in which organic and inorganic materials wrestle with intimate exteriority.

It might be objected that such performances are merely repeating what John Cage, Allan Kaprow and many others were doing decades ago? There may be similarities in approach, but all art is defined primarily by cultural context, and in the contemporary world there is no longer any need for subversion of codes and transgressing of taboos. In the 50s and 60s, and even into the 70s, there were counter-cultural expectations of (and a gleeful audience embracing of) contravention of the established order. In a sense, if the givens were the horizon to go beyond, they were still accepted as givens, as ‘the way things were’.

Now there is nothing left to transgress. Nothing is given any longer, neo-liberalism will tolerate anything as long as there is profit at the other end. For the artist, reality must be constructed entirely from scratch and anew on each occasion. Which makes it all the more difficult to pull off, as Vicky Langan did at Cafe OTO, such a subtly complex and gracefully realised performance.


Fergus Daly's writing is online.  Fergus Daly: Selected Publications        

Dave Phillips flexidisc

composed by dp for schimpfluch, zürich october november 2013.

includes live recording made at 'extreme rituals: a schimpfluch carnival' in bristol 30th november 2012 (recorded by moju) with voices by emma weatherup, vicky langan, kelly-ann jervis and damaris

released by absurd/sao paulo and estranhas ocupacoes/recife in a limited edition of 274 copies in blood red vinyl. artwork by lahell 

Penultimate Press and Kye event at Cafe OTO, London


Friday 17 October 2014
Matthew P.Hopkins / Moniek Darge / Call Back the Giants
Tickets : £10 adv / £12 on the door 

Saturday 18 October 2014
Astor / Vicky Langan / Graham Lambkin
Tickets : £10 adv / £12 on the door

Door Times : 8pm

Two-day pass : £18

Two days from two great labels Penultimate Press (UK) and Kye (USA) who've put out some fantastic releases from the likes of Graham Lambkin, Henning Christiansen, Stefan Jaworzyn, Jacques Brodier and Matthew P. Hopkins in recent years. 

On the Friday, OTO hosts Tim Goss' macabre pop art project Call Back The Giants - who has carved out a unique musical vision over his past four LPs, composer/violinist/performer/audio artist Moniek Darge - who specialises in both soundscapes and live-art performances in which visual and musical aspects are combined and in interactional improvisation on violin, and Matthew P. Hopkins - whose solo work is characterised by processed voice, crude electronics, tape manipulation and found sounds. 

On the Saturday, NY-based multidisciplinary artist and KYE label curator Graham Lambkin returns to OTO, alongside Irish artist Vicky Lanagan - whose vulnerable, emotionally charged performances envelop audiences in an often troublingly intense aura of dark intimacy, and Mark Harwood's project Astor - whose works encompass a wide variety of sources and techniques as a means of exploring audio that rubs shoulders with narrative, the visual and the hallucinogenic. 

Hunter's Moon Score Trail 2013

A post on about the Hunters Moon Festival Score Trail 2013. Caroline and Jennifer Walshe invited a number of artists to visually respond to graphic scores from invited composers and the results were distributed throughout the Dock Arts Centre and the town of Carrick-On-Shannon.

My piece, Wire Music, After Bettystown  was a response to Japanese performer/composer/sound poet  Tomomi Adachi's graphic score For Piano and 2 Graters.  

Here is a link to a pdf of all of the work in the Score Trail. Features Erin Gee, D. Edward Davis, Travis Just, Anthony Kelly, John Godfrey, Joe Kudirka, James Saunders, Tomomi Adachi, Karen Power, Anton Lukoszevieze, Danny McCarthy, Amnon Wolman, Istvan Zelenka, Alvin Curran, Paul McGuire, Jennifer Walshe, Sandra Lulei, Vicky Langan, Natalia Beylis, Felicity Ford, Caroline Walshe, Gavin Prior.

adachilangan copy.jpg

MEITHEAL - Early in the Spring, Late in the Fall

Mike Gangloff is best known as a member of drone improvisers Pelt and Spiral Joy Band, as well as Appalachian old-time outfit The Black Twig Pickers. In March of last year he performed at one of Vicky Langan's Black Sun events in Cork, alongside David Colohan's Raising Holy Sparks, and the Cork Sacred Harp Singers, with which Langan is  involved. The three musicians played a short piece togethe

r to close the show. The trio, now named


, reconvened to appear at Newcastle's Tusk Festival in October.

The material here is largely culled from the Sacred Harp tradition, with vocals backed by Gangloff and Langan's twin fiddles and

Colohan's harmonium and shruti box drones. On the Tusk recording, each member sings lead in turn (culminating in what may be Colohan's finest recorded vocal to

date). The unadorned, unaffected approach allows the musicians' characters, and the traditions that shaped them, to shine through. In this way the music effortlessly reunites the folk traditions of Ireland and the Southern United States, while being informed by the hillbilly drone of Henry Flynt. Songs that date from as far back as the 19th century are placed in an unusual yet sympathetic context, retaining their directness and emotional power. 

This release consists of both the Cork and Newcastle sets, as well as a rehearsal prior to the latter, and so contains Meitheal

's entire recorded work to date. 

Early in the Spring, Late in the Fall by Meitheal

Mike Gangloff - voice & fiddle 

Vicky Langan - voice & fiddle 

David Colohan - voice, harmonium & shruti box 

1.1: Recorded by Sam Grant, October 6th 2012 at the Tusk Festival in The Star & Shadow, Newcastle Upon Tyne, England. 

2.1: Recorded March 8th 2012 at Black Sun in Plugd, Cork, Ireland during a solar storm. 

2.2: Recorded October 6th 2012 during rehearsals for the Tusk set. 

Artwork by David Colohan. 

Pan illustration from 1920 songbook of "The Quaker Singer", David Bispham. 

Thanks to Lee Etherington (Tusk), Sam Grant and Carapace.

Numbered edition of 100. Includes download code.

Coming soon:: Extreme Rituals: A Schimpfluch Carnival

Rudolf & Joke Lanz : Akustische Aktion (Essen)

Next week (30 November - 2 December), I'll be heading over to Bristol to take part in

Extreme Rituals: A Schimpfluch Carnival


a three-day series of performances, talks and more devoted to the legacy of the Swiss performance group Schimpfluch.

The event takes place in the

Arnolfini, Bristol

and is presented by

Sound and Music

in partnership with Arnolfini,

Tusk Music


Harbinger Sound


Second Layer Records


The Live Art Development Agency


The Extreme Rituals carnival is a long-overdue retrospective and a celebration of Schimpfluch. Through an extensive programme will highlight the influence Schimpfluch has had since the late 80s, with audiences treated to a selection of performances, sound-installations, films, photographs and contextualising panel discussions. Alongside core Schimpfluch acts such as Runzelstirn & Gurgelstøck, Sudden Infant, G*Park and Dave Phillips this carnival weekender features rare UK appearances by international guest artists such as Hijokaidan's Junko Hiroshige, GX Jupitter-Larsen, Phurpa and Vagina Dentata Organ.

Rejecting any given norm and genre, tearing down mental barriers, unlocking all gates to the nether regions of the human psyche, their celebrated work aims to unlock an awareness of existence and encourages the audience to 'get off the plane of miseducated adulthood'.

Founded in Zürich in 1987, Rudolf created Schimpfluch, a platform for extreme and outsider artists and the generation of highly disturbing and irritating audio/visual works. Gradually expanding to the Schimpfluch-Gruppe art-collective, and Joke Lanz have since channelled grotesque humour into an ongoing series of confrontational radio broadcasts, physically demanding performances, ‘abreaction plays’ and ‘psycho-physical tests and trainings’.

On Friday, I'm landing and jumping straight into a panel discussion entitled Sound/Music/Noise in Performance Art. Chaired by Thomas John Bacon,other panelists include Ron Athey, Leif Elggren and Holly Ingleton.

Friday will also be disrupted with a number of guest performances from myself, Junko, Doreen Kutzke and Ute Waldhausen!

I'll also be performing solo on the Saturday, alongside a bill of Trevor Wishart, Vagina Dentata Organ, Joachim Montessuis, Sudden Infant and Runzelstirn and Gurgelstøck.

There are too many interesting things to list here so be sure to check out thefull programme over at Apart from a full weekend of Schimpfluch artists and friends, Doreen will be giving a workshop in 'extreme yodeling', Chris Sienko leads a discussion on the history of Schimpfluch as well as a panel discussion on 'Confrontational and Transgressive Strategies Within Noise Music', feat. GX Jupitter-Larsen, Dave Phillips and Mike Dando! Rare Schimp. films, installations, performances from Alice Kemp & a fully stocked Second Layer on site!

I really can't wait.

Embedded below is a great Soundart Radio show recently put together bySteve 'MuhMur' Cammack. (

MuhMur SoundArt Broadcast. 15/11/2012 by Steve Cammack on Mixcloud

Anseo, Dublin. May 2009

Roaratorio: An Irish Circus on Finnegan’s Wake – Cork Opera House, 03.11.12

Originally posted on

Words: Vicky Langan

Photography: Brid O’Donovan

Full photoset on here

It was great to come in out of the cold. Almost immediately, I struck up some conversation with an older woman who was also hovering next to the radiator by the front door. Asking her if she was aware that the seating arrangement for tonight was going to be a little unusual, she replied enthusiastically about a play she had seen in the Granary Theatre years ago where “we were all in it together”.
“How did that make you feel?” I asked her, “Were you self conscious or did it feel electric?”
“Oh no, I didn’t mind at all. It was fun. I was well able for any surprises.”

The back bar was full of excited faces and plastic pints. We downed our drinks and headed up the stairs to the stage where we entered an all-black rectangle, walled on one side and cordoned off with sheer black material on the other. In each of the four corners of the space were four medium-sized plinths, a spotlit chair on each of them. In the dead centre of the room sat a spotlit chair and a small desk (on which lay Cage’s score to Roaratorio, open on the second section of the piece).

The lightest of purplish mists hung in the air which added to the feeling of having collectively lost our bearings. I couldn’t tell where I was in relation to the main stage or the Half Moon Theatre. Where was backstage? What was behind the wall? There wasn’t time to figure it out. People quickly took up the seating along the edges of the space, others sat on the floor. A man sat in a meditative posture and bowed his head, quietly preparing for the performance. The four musicians emerged and took their seats. The tape recordings began. I looked up and noticed the rig above us, the speakers spread out and pointing downwards, with one suspended squarely above the empty chair in the middle of the space.

The room swelled with Cage’s sprechstimme, himself softly lilting the text, stretching out consonants, burring and enunciating syllables like soothing incantations. Recordings of water, women, men, carillon, birds, singing, laughing, dancing music, babies crying, gulls, wailing, rattles, explosions, shouts, cries, banging, barking, bleating, purrs, mewing, children singing, and motor engines lapped and curled through the haze.

People seemed a little too shy to be the first to break through the empty space and experience the fuller sound by walking around the room, but it didn’t take long before the space was filled with tranced listeners, brushing sleeves with strangers and winding their own path around the black box, occasionally stopping, with a bowed head or the opposite, shoulders back, head up, positively *receiving* the sound from above. At one point, an almost full circle had formed around Cage’s chair and desk, where the sound of the text was at its strongest.

Paddy Glackin’s warmth cut through the clamour like a hot knife through a lump of Kerrygold. Seamus Tansey on flute, his hornpipe tonguing bending around the corners of Liam O’Flynn’s slow air notes. Mel Mercier’s rhythms stopping everybody in their slow tracks… I was experiencing that manic feeling of being taken away when things were really pounding. There were moments of such intensity that it felt on par with some of the most affecting noise shows I’ve experienced. My skin crackled, I felt sound rush past me as though I were on the street. At times I was nowhere but my own head. A young couple lay on a bed of coats at Liam O’ Flynn’s feet. Life was all around us. Emotionally, I found it to beyond moving and joyous, other times completely ordinary, maybe surreal. I was fighting tears, trying to hold it together for a lot of the performance, especially when Peadar Mercier’s drumming or Joe Heaney’s voice would surface. We were all in it together, we were in a hundred different places.

Abandon Reason / Curious Broadcast

Photo by Declan Kelly

I've sat on a lot of recorded material for years, not releasing a thing, unconcerned with having anyone hear me. Time I look forward to is time spent with Declan, and often Dave (Raising Holy Sparks) underground. It's easy to forget about 'up there' when you're descending into pitch darkness, surrounded by cold concrete.

World Cup 2010 had wound up and Declan had given me a present of a small red vuvuzela that had belonged to our friend Takashi. I was eager to put my own stamp on it in the Dark Place. I had a short go of projecting a lot into that little toy, and the sound of it, the varying subtleties bouncing back to me from all sides was a wild kind of comfort. It was an exercise and a lament all at once.

I took the vuvuzela to Minneapolis for a gig but the plastic film on the mouthpiece ripped and that was the end of that.

Here's a new radio series that Declan has put together of archived recordings from visits to the underground. Have a listen!


Declan Kelly presents Abandon Reason Episode 1


Abandon Reason is an archive of recordings made in the highly reverberant (and unlit) space of a disused underground car park in Galway, Ireland. The recordings are mostly musical improvisations utilising a wide variety of instruments and voices, and very often objects (as well as the walls and fixturec) found in the car park itself.

Abandon Reason will be an 8-part series of half-hour episodes broadcast fortnightly on Curious Broadcast. It is presented by Declan Kelly and, alongside the radio programme, there is a blog ( on which can be found more information about the contributors to the show as well as photographs and videos of the space. Contributors to date include:


Jorge Boehringer (Core of the Coalman)
David Colohan (Raising Holy Sparks, Agitated Radio Pilot, United Bible Studies)
Aaron Coyne (Yawning Chasm)
Declan Kelly (DeclanQKelly, Yawning Chasm)
Annemarie Deacy (Mirakil Whip, Fuaimbhac)
Gerard Duffy (School Tour, Patrick Kelleher and His Cold Dead Hands)
Kate Glavey (Burrows)
Sarah Grimes (September Girls, Black Robots)
Tony Higgins (Junior85)
Vicky Langan (Wölflinge, curator of Black Sun in Cork)
Alice McDowell
Peter Moran
Brigid Power Ryce
Gavin Prior (Deserted Village, United Bible Studies)

Episode 1 features Aaron Coyne, Declan Kelly, Brigid Power Ryce, Vicky Langan, David Colohan, Gavin Prior and Alice McDowell.



Meitheal play at TUSK Festival, Newcastle this October


TUSK Music Presents:

TUSK Festival 2012

October 5-7 . Star & Shadow . Newcastle Upon Tyne

Meitheal (Irish pronunciation: [ˈmɛhəl]) is the trio of Vicky Langan from Galway, David Colohan of Longford and Mike Gangloff of Virginia. All are deeply involved in esoteric musical forms of various kinds (Wölflinge, Raising Holy Sparks and Pelt respectively) but each succumbs to the irresistible pull of some kind of folk music, both through influences weighing on their aforementioned identities and via, for example, Langan’s deep involvement in the Irish Sacred Harp community and Gangloff’s fiddle and voice in old-time trio the Black Twig Pickers.

Meitheal was born earlier this year when Colohan arranged a series of solo Irish dates for Gangloff, leading to an inevitable three-way throwdown that drew from their collective well of ancient music lore and their skills as improvisors. Meitheal is still very much an embryonic entity, we fully admit – no releases, one gig under their belts, no one’s ever heard of them – but knowing them individually, combined with being blown away by the 8 minutes that appeared on Youtube means we had to have them here.

We don’t doubt that when you hear them, you’ll know why.

The End of Black Sun. This Sat: With Lumps, Woven Skull & more.

Hullo all!

This will be the final Black Sun music-event in Cork, for the foreseeable future at least. Those keeping an eye on us last week will have seen the news that we're teaming up with the Triskel Arts Centreto continue our programming of experimental cinema. If you live in Ireland, please take a minute to check out our first programme! We're as proud as anything to be presenting day-long events devoted exclusively to experimental cinema at Triskel Christchurch.

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