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(Conchord)

In a telling lyric on his eleventh solo studio record, Paul Simon imagines God cruising down a highway in the Midwest of America, criticising American culture: “check out the radio, pop music station / That don’t sound like my music to me.” In one of many lyrics in which Simon uses a mythic figure to reflect his personal conflicts with America, it neatly sums up the tone of So Beautiful Or So What. Repeatedly throughout, Simon is reaching back into his musical past as a way of reacting to the present. Simon even delves back to the ‘40’s, sampling a sermon given by Reverend J.M. Gates on ‘Getting Ready for Christmas Day’. The jaunty opening track recalls Simon classics such as ‘Mother and Child Reunion’ and ‘Kodachrome’ and touches on everything from life in Blue Collar America to Iraq in just over four minutes. Re- uniting with Phil Ramone, who produced all of Simon’s solo records from 1972’s Paul Simon to 1980’s One Trick Pony, the feel of So Beautiful Or So What is similar to his early ‘70’s debut; it seems almost as if the record was recorded live, in a room.

Pushing 70 years of age, Simon clearly has mortality on his mind. Like many songwriters of his era, songs about birth, death and everything in between are sure at this point in his life. What makes Simon’s take on the subject, so refreshing is how he writes about the big questions with a humorous voice that is indelibly his own. In ‘The Afterlife’, he imposes witty, smooth, demotic tones on life after death: “Had to stand in line / just to glimpse the divine / what ‘cha think about that?”. Again, Simon reaches to the language of a bygone era and the coda of “Be Bop a Lula? Or ooh Papa Doo?” immediately recalls the iconic opening cry of “A-wop-bop-a-loo-bop-a-lop-bam-boom!” from Little Richards’ ‘Tutti Frutti’.

Unlike much of his output since Graceland, the lyrics, melodies and guitar parts are not overshadowed in the mix by the rhythm section. Simon returns to his songwriting approach of constructing the song before the rhythm; an approach which changed during sessions for 1986’s classic Graceland, whereby rhythm dominated and dictated the course of the song. Songs such as ‘Love and Hard Times’, ‘Questions for the Angels’, and instrumental ‘Amulet’- have no percussion at all, and there is no bass guitar anywhere on the record.

Lyrically, Simon is, as ever, concerned with the present state of America but is consistently using reference points from the past and in doing so write some of his most vivid and moving lyrics. His humorous and playful tone- particularly on ‘The Afterlife’ and ‘Rewrite’, a stunning song about a Vietnam vet writing a fictional happy ending for his autobiographical film script is akin to that other maestro of American Song: Randy Newman. The piano-led ‘Love and Hard Times’ is laced with the same sardonic humour of Newman’s ‘God’s Song (That’s Why I love Mankind)’. Where Simon’s “restless Lord,” says “…anyway, these people are slobs here / if we stay, it’s bound to be a mob scene”. A frank social commentator, Simon’s observations throughout the record ensure longevity.

An old hand at making records, Simon knows that the greatness of an album rests on the finishing side. ‘Amulet’, an elegant instrumental, bridges the raucous bluegrass of ‘Love is An Eternal Sacred Light’ with ‘Questions for the Angels’, easily one of his most tender and beautiful compositions. He finishes on the album’s title track, the recurring hammer, on the motif of which is reminiscent of the opening theme of Simon & Garfunkel’s ‘Mrs. Robinson’. By the end of the albums, ten tracks clocking at 38 minutes, it’s clear that Simon’s blend of bluegrass, shifting rhythms, poetic lyrics and confessional, solo acoustic centrepieces are almost a retrospective of his entire solo output. It’s also clear that he has crafted his most vital, most complete album in 25 years.

Originally published on State.ie

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Looking at Ron Sexsmith’s attire this evening – an embroidered jacket worthy of a Nashville troubadour, complemented by Chelsea boots – you’d know from what school of the song he comes. With conventional structures that allow him to tell stories and melodies as firm and as memorable as those penned by his hero Paul McCartney, his songs are grounded in the simplicity and strength of a John Prine song. Although Sexsmith hasn’t crossed over from his cult status (more covers of his songs by fellow Canadian Michael Bublé might change all that), tonight’s audience is very much cross-generational. Those who first heard many of Sexsmith’s musical forebears, such as John Prine, James Taylor, Gordon Lightfoot, in the 1970s are here, tonight, along with the younger generation who have tuned into these songwriters through artists such Sexsmith.

A shaky start involving a busted and battered Vox amp threatens tonight’s proceedings. Opening song ‘Heart’s Desire’ falls flat and seems like an unlikely way to kick off the set. When the shimmering, infectious pop of ‘Get in Line’, from this year’s Long Player Late Bloomer, follows up that the show begins in earnest. Sexsmith’s four-man band play unobtrusively, with his voice unusually high in the mix, and this is most evident on the slow burning ‘Hard Bargain’. After a thunderous ‘Believe it When I See It’, he follows with the song he opened with at his first Dublin show in Whelan’s almost 20 years ago, ‘Wastin’ Time’.

Shy and reserved in an interview, an affable Sexsmith reaches out to his audience, playing a request submitted though his website (a beautiful version of ‘Tomorrow In Her Eyes’) and relating a story about how he initially wrote ‘Gold In Them Hills’ for Bing Crosby. A magnificent, solo acoustic version of ‘Sleeping With The Angels’, the song that, in his words, “got him through the door,” is the most special point of the night.

The highpoint of the evening is a memorable encore, comprising of ‘Whatever It Takes’ (made famous by Michael Bublé), fan favorite ‘Lebanon, Tennessee’ and ‘Every Time I Follow’. Far from being an unreliable or patchy performer, you can’t help but feel Ron Sexsmith is on the brink of a career-defining festival slot. Lord knows he’s got the songs.

Originally published by State.ie

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(Bella Union)

Belfast five-piece Cashier No. 9 couldn’t be further away, musically, from Two Door Cinema Club, the current darlings of the Northern city’s music scene. Referencing everything from The Byrds to Primal Scream, their widescreen sound and tightly-crafted songs don’t aim to “nail it” in three-minute pop songs, but instead, wrap themselves up in a groove that can bring them to the five-minute mark. For this quality alone, they immediately bring to mind Creation-era Primal Scream; a devotion to classic song structure but with the dimensions and grooves that have made significant electro records timeless.

Lead single ‘Goldstar’, with its nod to Phil Spector’s Wall of Sound, is an immediate, confident and ambitious opener, which even manages to pull off a harmonica solo (from Hollies’ sessioneer Tommy Morgan, no less) that could have gone badly wrong. Although the banal title of ‘Lost at Sea’ is off-putting at first, it shares the same thunderous drums and restless rhythms of ‘Goldstar’ and is an obvious single in waiting.

The bridge between their obvious ’60s, West coast leanings and ’80s & ’90s British indie rock becomes more evident with ‘A Promise Wearing Thin’, which recalls the melodic grandeur of Echo and the Bunnymen classic ‘Ocean Rain’. Meanwhile, the groove-laden, baggy-indebted ‘The Lighthouse Will Lead You Out’ bringing to mind mid-’90s era, Charlatans. Over the ten tracks, it’s the fusion of these influences that manage to keep the music fresh and exciting. The closing track, ‘6%’, a downbeat synth- drenched song, is an intriguing way to end the journey, and could very well signal the direction they take on album number two.

At the heart of Cashier No. 9’s impressive debut is David Holmes’ lush production, which skillfully adds textures and layers without resorting to the nostalgic, retro stylings that often date a record. Throughout, the multi-dimensional arrangements often recall Mercury Rev’s Deserter’s Songs and All is Dream. However, like the albums as mentioned earlier, it’s also grounded in the tight songwriting structures and styles that defined the Laurel Canyon songwriters of the ’60s / ’70s, like Neil Young, Crosby, Stills & Nash, Jackson Browne and Gene Clark. And while they lack memorable, inspiring lyrics that make use of the broad song forms they write in, these anthemic, big sounding songs could make Cashier No. 9 a surprise hit at festivals the world over.

Originally published on State.ie

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Popical Island #2

(Popical Island)

Part of the charm of the second compilation from Dublin-based collective Popical Island is that they represent a throwback to a time when people queued up for records on the day of release, mixtapes were a welcome gift from fellow musos and Seattle, Washington, was the unlikely capital of rock music. In the wake of the synth- pop revival that has revitalized everything that was good – and bad – about the ’80s, Popical Island # 2 throws a knowing glance towards the ’90s; a time when a new alternative rock album that would define the decade seemed to come along at least once a year.

Diversity and range, within the pop form, is key to Popical Island’s latest release. While all the artists seem to share common ground, their leanings become more evident after repeated listens. Michael Knight’s quirky piano song, ‘Hang On, I Need To Count the Stops’ is clearly from the Ben Folds songbook, the chiming 12 strings that adorn Goodly Thousands’ ‘Kiss Me Upside Down’ recall I.R.S. era R.E.M., while ‘Candle’ by Squarehead should keep fans of The Shins happy. Three-minute pop nuggets aside, there are also left turns, such as Tieranniesaur’s ‘Here Be Monsters’, which is possibly the only track that isn’t defined by fuzzy guitars but by a tight, stomping drums and bass with sparse keys and vocals. In contrast again, Grand Pocket Orchestra and Johnny Fun & The Hesitations’ contributions owe their sound and feel to the many records that defined the Montreal music scene of recent years.

While many of the contributions here aren’t breaking any new ground, have little to say and, at times, are a too indebted their influences, there’s plenty here to enjoy and the mere nostalgia trip, alone, is worth the price of admission.

Originally published by State.ie

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During the encore of Suede’s opening night at The Olympia, Coming Up’s ‘Trash’ and ‘Beautiful Ones’ elicited a reaction from the crowd that is normally only reserved for the iconic singles taken from their mercurial debut. IfSuede was the sound of the band getting the ball rolling on Britpop and Dog Man Star was their attempt to disassociate themselves from that particular mid-’90s movement, then 1996’sComing Up was the sound of Suede wanting a piece of the action.

Often dismissed as Suede’s ‘pop’ album, it found Suede focusing on their knack for writing glam-influenced pop songs with outward-looking lyrics that commented on high and low society. A 10-track, 40-minute album of pop songs, its fusion of Hunky Dory– era Bowie and The Slider-era T. Rex spawned five top 10 singles and remains their biggest seller. With that in mind, it’s clear that Coming Up is, for the band, more fun to play. It lacks the long, maudlin tracks such as ‘She’s Not Dead’ and ‘Daddy’s Speeding’, from their first and second albums respectively, that slow down the flow and momentum of a gig. The crowd, too, feel more involved in the proceedings; there is more fist-in-the-air jubilation than the chin-stroking introspection of both the Suede and Dog Man Star gigs.

Apparently, keyboard player Neil Codling and guitarist Richard Oakes, both of whom made their recording debuts with Suede on Coming Up, seem more involved in the proceedings and more connected to their material than that of the first two records. They have a personal connection to these songs that isn’t there when they are playing songs from the earlier albums. The slower songs – ‘By the Sea’, ‘Picnic by the Motorway’, ‘The Chemistry Between Us’ – somehow manage not to kill the momentum generated by the opening half. In fact, ‘Saturday Night’, the slow tempo closer, finds Anderson venturing into the crowd for one last hurrah.

A superb encore ensures that this is the most energised, adrenaline-fuelled night of the three. Consisting of the slow, cold, Bowie/Eno- influenced ‘Europe Is Our Playground’ (B-side to ‘Trash’), the band quickly snap out of the moody atmospherics of that song and rip swiftly into a string of up-tempo glam-rockers. ‘New Generation’, ‘Can’t Get Enough’ (taken from 1999’sHead Music), ‘So Young’, ‘Metal Mickey’ and ‘So Young’ all hit the right notes. By the end Anderson has reminded the audience of his brilliance as a frontman; his hips are shaking and swaying, his voice singing in a clear, confident falsetto and with urgency like never before. For band and audience alike, it feels like the end of a long journey. As the crowd pour out onto Dame Street, the main talking point is of fevered rumours of a new album and tour, next year. If true, Suede have raised the bar up a notch that they will be hard-pressed to surpass.

Originally published by State.ie

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Villagers have returned home to Dublin after a high profile support slot with Elbow on their latest tour that wraps up tonight, the only Irish date of the tour. A devoted few get in early to catch Villagers. However, in a venue the size of the O2, their set – drawn mostly from slow-burning debut Becoming A Jackal – doesn’t quite connect and one can’t help but feel that this band and these songs belong in a more intimate venue. For a support band, they lack the hooks, choruses and charisma to make an impression on those undecided/apathetic punters who might be here, purely, to see Elbow. The title track elicits the loudest cheer of Villagers’ set, but this wasn’t Villagers’ finest hour.

Walking on stage to a lavish red curtain back-drop, Elbow’s sound of big drums, chunky bass lines, strings and Guy Garvey’s tenor voice, effortlessly fill every corner of the venue. Elbow hit a groove in a set that begins promisingly by opening with ‘The Birds’, ‘The Bones of You’ and ‘Lippy Kids’. As a live band, Elbow has grown leaps and bounds since their May 2001 gig in Temple Bar Music Centre in support of Mercury Prize nominated debut Asleep In The Back. Garvey makes for an unlikely stadium-rock front man. The runway stage into the audience, along with his witty banter in between songs, is a successful attempt at bringing the audience in closer, making the experience more intimate in contrast to the band’s sound. At one point, the remaining band members join Garvey on the runway stage for an acoustic intro to ‘Weather to Fly’ and shortly leave to finish the song with full, electric arrangements. In a way, it’s the most telling song of the night; a song Garvey wrote about the band, its performance here tonight is a visual representation of the how the band have mutated from British music’s best kept secret to where they are now.

The set list, however, finds Elbow on cruise control. They don’t delve too far back into their back catalogue. Instead, they play it safe with a 17 song set that is drawn mainly from Build A Rocket Boys! and The Seldom Seen Kid, with just three tracks from 2005’s Leaders Of The Free World. Their first two efforts – 2001’s Asleep In The Back and 2003’s Cast Of Thousands – weren’t written for the arenas that their most recent records were and therein lies the element of risk: can these early songs work in an arena? It’s a relief, then, when ‘Grounds for Divorce’ arrives during the set; it changes a mood and tempo that has become quite even paced and quite sedate when Elbow should be firing on all cylinders.

Finishing, quite predictably, on ‘One Day Like This’, arms are in the air, and Elbow is home dry. Given that this is their first tour of the arenas, they already seem like old hands in what is a well-co-ordinated show. Here’s hoping that when they hit the festivals in the summer that they’re able to shift gears more convincingly and give a wider representation of their enviable discography.

Originally published by State.ie

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J Mascis – Several Shades of Why

(Sub Pop)

On the far side of J Mascis’ fuzzy guitar sounds, which defined not only Dinosaur Jr.’s music but, in turn, marked him out as an alt. Rock legend lies a softer, breezier side. On Several Shades of Why, his debut solo album proper, he engages with his folk-rock influences like never before, which range from After the Gold Rush-era Neil Young and Crosby, Stills and Nash, to Nick Drake. No doubt aware of the deluge of folk / Americana albums in recent years, he has crafted this album with instruments and arrangements that are alien to Dinosaur Jr.’s records and might be more suitable on a Mercury Rev album (Saw, anyone?). Mascis has apparently taken a leaf out of country music-inspired those American alt. rock songwriters.

Opener ‘Listen to Me’, with its simple progression and whispering vocals, feels like an Evan Dando track, while ‘Is it Done’ could easily have been written and recorded by Lucinda Williams. The intricate finger picking and harrowing strings of the albums title track find Mascis at most earnest, and he echoes the feel of the song in ‘Very Nervous and Love’. Album highlight, ‘Not Enough’, a campfire folk-pop song complete with backing vocals from current tour mate Kurt Vile, is the sound of the summer.

The record takes a strange twist towards the end and the penultimate and closing tracks, ‘Can I’ and ‘What Happened’, respectively, find Mascis keeping the line of the record while layering the songs with distorted guitars and taking the album to a dark place. And while the album’s roots influences and pop sensibility may not be for Dinosaur Jr. purists, those with a library-full of the best folk / Americana records of the last ten years have another addition that ever-expanding genre.

Originally published on State.ie

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R.E.M. – Collapse Into Now

(Warner)

“If a storm doesn’t kill me, the government will”, sang Michael Stipe on ‘Houston’, from 2008’s excellent return to form, Accelerate. A weary and worn out liberal after two terms of the Bush administration, Stipe hadn’t been as angry, disillusioned and politically engaged on Accelerate since 1987’s Document and 1988’s Green, both of which tore into the Reagan administration.

Fitting, then, that Stipe should now sing “A storm didn’t kill me, the government changed” on ‘Oh My Heart’, taken from R.E.M.’s second consecutive record with Jacknife Lee. Stipe, here, defines himself and R.E.M. as rock’s survivors, but also its chroniclers of social and political change in America. They are, clearly, more at peace with America and, more importantly, with themselves than ever before. Whereas Accelerate saw them return to the spiky, three-minute punk-influenced pop songs that so defined Murmur and Reckoning, Collapse Into Now finds the band tapping into their tradition yet somehow making it feel fresh, vital and new.

The hallmarks are all here; the bridge and chorus from ‘Discoverer’ could easily be ideas that didn’t make the cut on Document, yet Buck’s Eastern-influenced guitar phrase, which bookends the record, is memorable and unlike anything he’s played before. ‘All the Best’ feels like a distant relative of ‘The Wake Up Bomb’ from New Adventures in Hi- Fi while ‘Überlin’ is a serious re-write of ‘Daysleeper’ from 1998’s Up. ‘Everyday is Yours to Win’ finds Stipe in Urban / 21st Century / Existential mode, as per recent records, all of which folds as strong a first side of a record as the band have produced in their 31 years of recording.

The second side opens with ‘Mine Smell Like Honey’, the most joyous, pop-sounding R.E.M. song imaginable. It’s given a very balanced and nuanced mix by Jacknife Lee, making it sound familiar yet wholly new and exciting. The chorus readily recalls ‘Bad Day’ and ‘It’s the End…’ and is more R.E.M. than R.E.M. itself. By contrast, ‘Walk it Back’ is a slow-tempo, piano-led tune, leading the listener to imagine what 2004’s career nadir, Around the Sun, might have sounded like had the band had the heart and energy to finish and mix it with care.

It’s then back to the stomping mode with ‘Alligator_Aviator_Autopilot_Antimatter’ with backing vocals courtesy of Patti Smith and Peter Buck. It’s the combination of Stipe’s playful lyrics, urgent delivery and Buck’s riff-heavy yet jangly guitar that makes this, and the R.E.M. sound, what it is. Meanwhile ‘Me, Marlon Brando, Marlon Brando and I’ finds Stipe engaging with Pop Culture as vividly as he did on 1994’s Monster, but with the slow burning, roots feel that so definedAutomatic for the People. ‘Blue’, meanwhile, sees the band ending the record in a natural form. In an ocean of reverb, distortion and acoustic guitar, Stipe’s rhapsodic delivery, coupled with his post-modern, epistolic lyrics, eases through a distorted mic and, backed by his heroine, Patti Smith, finds him signing off with ‘20th Century, collapse into now’.

What makes Collapse Into Now such a triumph is its authors’ engagement with their sound, their mythology and their knack for being able to make it feel like a record by an up and coming band. The form of the album is one of a band that have realised that there are many dimensions to their sound and songs. Thankfully, for the first time in a long time, R.E.M. are happy to be themselves.

Originally published on State.ie

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Daniel Martin Moore – In the Cool of the Day 

(Sub Pop)

It all started on a 9-foot Steinway piano in a radio studio in Cincinnati, Ohio. On that piano, kept in-house and once used by the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra, Daniel Martin Moore rediscovered his love of Appalachian folk songs and family gospel music, both of which he had heard growing up in Cold Spring, Kentucky.

From the opening bars of ‘All Ye Tenderhearted’, performed a cappella, it’s clear that a smooth, sparse set of songs is set to follow. Moore has stayed very close to the feel of these spiritual songs and hasn’t, thankfully, diluted them with a twee, quirky, indie-folk kitsch feel for fans of Bon Iver or The Low Anthem. His voice, smooth and light, doesn’t intrude too much; the piano, guitar and banjo (courtesy of Jim James of My Morning Jacket) does much of the work. Even more, refreshing is how Moore underplays the songs. Instead of over-dramatising gospel music, as performers often do when bringing the songs to life through folk instruments, he plays them as he would if he were at a session in the corner of a bar.

All of this said, Moore adjusts and adapts the material to make it work for the album. Sister Rosetta Tharpe’s ‘Up Above My Head’, is much more restrained than Tharpe’s electric guitar driven version, which uses classic gospel handclaps as percussion. Moore, instead, performs it as he would a Django Reinhardt number and this relaxed feel, complete with gently shuffling drums and a fiddle, neutralises the flow of the record and moves just a couple of steps up from the most tranquil songs included here.

The same upbeat feel refreshes ‘Dark Road’, known better to American roots aficionado’s as G.B. Grayson and Henry Whittier’s ‘A Dark Road is Hard to Travel’, where Moore stays faithful to the musical arrangements but gives it a fresh feel and even adds on lines here and there. Throughout the record, he skillfully shifts the mood, most notably in ‘In the Garden’, which here, is bass-led with lilting piano lines, restless drums and Moore’s crisp voice.

With the help of Jim James, Moore has crafted an album that clocks in at 30 minutes, leaves a lasting impression and convincingly taps into an important traditional form of American song. And as good as the covers, and indeed a couple of Moore originals- are, the winner here is the sound, feel and overall production values of the record. A must for fans of Bob Dylan’s Modern Times, Elton John & Leon Russell’s The Union and other assorted T- Bone Burnett produced albums.

Originally published on State.ie

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Playing their first ever headline show in Dublin since supporting Interpol at The Olympia in April 2005, Spoon have since been the subject of massive critical kudos (Music review aggregator Metacritic declared Spoon “Top Overall Artist of the Decade’ based on critical acclaim). Record sales in the US match critical acclaim, partly due to “The O.C. Effect” that saw 2002 single ‘The Way We Get By’ featured on the show, followed by cover features in Spin Magazine. On this side of the Atlantic, they remain the interest of Wilco/Bright Eyes/Death Cab for Cutie fans and a best-kept secret amongst other music fans.

Tonight, they draw from their seven studio albums, chiefly this year’s Billboard Top 5 recordTransference. Front man Britt Daniel and keyboard player Eric Harvey are first to take to the stage, opening the evening with an acoustic version of ‘The Mystery Zone’, which is tonight transformed into a heady, psych- folk song. Backed with keyboards that Air would kill for, Daniel’s impassioned vocal – reminiscent of Frank Black but a much broader range – is the primary force of the song. He can veer from a tenor’s roar to an angelic falsetto that looms in the background and, like Thom Yorke, Daniel uses his voice as another instrument in the band.

With clear roots in classic rock, garage rock and post punk, Spoon never actually play into the genres that have influenced them but rather make them fresh and new by refusing to appropriate the styles as so many bands have. Instead, they mix and match. ‘Someone Something’ feels like a song off The White Album but when played in the context of other Spoon’s songs tonight, it seems unmistakably like a Spoon number. Daniel’s ragged vocals, harmonious handclaps, pulsating bass lines and drummer Jim Eno’s largely conventional but equally unpredictable and shifty drums define this Spoon song.

On ‘Written in Reverse’ that they seem as if they are loose, chaotic and playing off the cuff but are an incredibly tight band that give themselves room to take the song into other places. Harvey’s bar-room piano is the focus of all the song’s rhythm, which has every limb in the audience moving from side to side. Never does the band lose sight of the rhythm and beat of the song, generated chiefly by piano rather than the bass and drums and capitalized on by Daniel’s terse, cutting guitar playing. At some points during the show, it’s hard to believe Daniel is the only guitar player on stage as he riffs and solos over a wall of distortion. Followed by crowd pleasers such as the sleazy, slow- burning, soul- funk of ‘I Turn My Camera On’, fan favorite ‘I Summon You’, breakthrough ‘The Way We Get By’ and The Supremes-meets-Teenage Fanclub of ‘You Got Yr. Cherry Bomb’, Spoon reveal themselves not only as a pop band but a throwback to many bands from the 1990s (of which they were one having formed in 1996), a time when some alternative rock bands seemed to have an endless list of either singles or potential singles in their canon.

The band’s encore is explosive with a three shot combo. First is ‘My Mathematical Mind’, which builds and builds for all of five minutes, the band keeping the tempo steady and allowing Daniel to take chunks out of his guitar. What follows is Spoon’s most infectious pop song, the mariachi pop of ‘The Underdog’, the hook of which has the humming and hollering at every chorus and finishes with an equally rousing ‘Rhythm and Soul’.

As the band leaves the stage and the lights come up on a dazed and delighted Dublin audience, the strains of ‘The Star Spangled Banner’ can be heard blaring from the PA. One can’t help but feel that Spoon is still America’s best-kept secret.

Originally published by State.ie