Camille O'Sullivan: Brel

Camille O’Sullivan is magician and glamorous assistant rolled into one: in her performances are mystery and grace, as well as viciousness and grit. She transforms an ugly pale blue concert hall into a dingy Dublin basement bar. 

Her set is devoted to Jacques Brel, whose songs are given renewed life. All the hits are there, sung in both English and in French. Some songs, like Brel’s devastating ode to the old Les Vieux, are unaccompanied and O’Sullivan stands exposed and crying as she sings “The old folks never die / They just put down their heads and go to sleep one day”. Others have the full force of her band summoning some demonic force with their noise. 

Whatever she’s doing on stage or with the front row of the audience (usually stroking their hair or mewling coquettishly) it doesn’t jolt one note out of place. The control in her voice is remarkable: she can change the atmosphere of the room with a breathy whisper or a fierce growl.

Dark theatrical elements turn O’Sullivan’s performance into a show: at one point she dons a paper pig’s head, which sits on a table with lights shining through its eyes for the rest of the performance, a creepy onstage companion. Brel’s lyrical masterpieces and all the worlds they conjure almost seem as if they were written for O’Sullivan, the Irish Piaf and Patti Smith hybrid who grants them life.