Following the success of the inaugural Spiel, in which we opened up The Bottom Half of the Internet for close inspection and grasped an understanding of bitcoins, we return with Spiel *002 next Tuesday.

This time we are talking to the legends of The Phoenix, literally. After clocking up 30 years of publishing experience, we've invited Paddy Prenderville and Paul Farrell of Phoenix Magazine to come to South Studios and teach us magazine upstarts on how to put a private eye on public figures and remain relevant, thorny and deliver proper investigative journalism... without too many visits to the Four Courts.

Interviewing them is the broad-shouldered broadcaster Colm O'Mongain and joining them on stage will be the Rabble possé. Having secured their fund:it campaign and celebrated by delivering some top notch dispatches from Istanbul in recent weeks, Rabble, we feel, are the shining Young Bloods.

It's all about ends and beginnings and what keeps publishing spinning.

Who is all about jigs and Spiels this week? Ciaran, Michael, Kate, Amy or Kristen. 

It's raining strange in the Chocolate Factory tonight as illustrator to the stark raving mad, Alan Clarke, unveils a new series of hand embellished, limited edition screen (scream?) prints. The corrupted, contemptible Clarke has been holed up in his studio space on Kings Inns Street for the past few months, realising his fiendish phantasms by eating old newspapers and drawing by light from rendered down baby fat candles. Willy Wonka he ain't. Whatever about his wonky moral compass, Clarke's work is devilishly good. If you believe that Robert Johnson sold his soul to become one of the greatest blues guitarist, then you're likely to imagine the same pact exists between the dark one and the Clark one. Get to this show, and burn your eyes on the brilliant works of Dublin's finest illustrator. / Vernon Steel

As children of the ‘sharing age’ we can access an unprecedented wealth of information and easily add our points of view to the public conversation. Yet our news sources are largely owned by conglomerates, and the Murdoch’s of this world control much of what filters down to us through mainstream channels. The POV (points of view) Exhibition at Monster Truck takes this idea and looks at how our opinion of a place or person (or any other noun) is shaped by the methods used to present it. With standout photography from Aisling Kane; bleak, emotive shots that are quietly desperate, and Ciaran Hussey's spacially and social aware installations. Featuring artists with Belfast connections - a city often distorted by press coverage – this is a very moving exhibition which will shake up how you think you know things. / Carrie King

Just how independent is The Independent? How on the record is The Irish Times and how can you get informed enough to get mad? Rage Against the Regime is a new monthly 'talkie' that promises to act as a neutral media platform to generate public participation and debate on a range of Irish and international current affairs. Launch night deals with 'Resource Nationalism' why is Ireland 'giving away' its natural resources such as oil, gas, forestry, air and fisheries. Dublin has become a hotbed of discourse recently with events like Dublintellectual, Monthly General Meeting and Le Cool's own Spiel. And despite the aggressive, punk name, here's hoping RAR is more constructive conversation than ranty rebuttal. / Luka Scoones

When you were a nipper did you pounce around your living room pretending to be Lion-O, Cheetara or Snarf? Warble along with Jem and The Holograms? (Or secretly root for the way cooler Misfits). Were you totally confused about She-Ra and He-Man’s relationship status? If these questions bring back fuzzy, nostalgic memories of Saturday mornings spent in square-eyed rapture then this might be right up your Cybertron. Lob a rubex cube in the face of adulthood and gasp anew at three legendary episodes of big screen, retro cartoon action. A mystery fourth cartoon will be selected by popular vote. Oh and instead of weak Ribena you get to slurp on €5 cocktails. Bet that didn’t happen when you were a kid (If it did you were clearly raised by terrible, terrible people.) In the immortal words of Jem: it’s Showtime Synergy! / Adam Duxbury

A punk performance poet, John Cooper Clarke is a speech impediment just waiting to happen. Cooper Clarke is as much a part of the fabric of Mancunian cultural history as The Smiths or The Stone Roses; but unlike them, he's managed to keep it together despite spending most of the 80s shooting up with Nico. Maybe it is his electric delivery; like a man who would rap if he didn't think it was beneath him, he spits out those poems, fast and intense, but there's a reason that he is the rock star's poet. The one that kids at school might actually fall for poetry over. His mullet-topped, stick-like silhouette is unmistakable, he is a living cult, and an ambassador for winklepickers. He is a poet and you know it. Win Tickets / Cara Sullivan

A Metro Area track is a thing of beauty. It unfolds gradually and gracefully. It takes its own sweet time. And this is because the NYC duo of Darshan Jesrani and Morgan Geist (such good names) are proper dance craftsmen. They emerged in 1999 with something magic, putting a Disco influence missing from House music back in plain sight, but layering it over a bedrock of exacting, spacious rhythms. Their subsequent spotless body of work went on to influence an entire wave of producers. Take Miura, recently named the best track of the decade by Resident Advisor. A simple, almost primitive tick-tock bassline gradually reveals its genius as swelling synths, tablas, and angelic vocal samples are stacked into a 7 minute dance-floor killer. Refined, elegant, and always funky– this is a rare chance to see two masters at work. / Marcus O'Sullivan

Already with a portrait in the 183rd Annual RHA Exhibition (continuing her presence there every year since 2004), Ann Quinn now opens her first solo show in the Taylor Galleries this week. Those of you who noticed her portrait of 'Mary' in the Royal Academy will see another side of this Donegal Fine Art painter here. For Mary, despite her miniature frame, takes up far more canvas space than the live characters in this show. Here, life fights for scale in these depictions of nature and beauty. It's farm life housed or even kennelled in natural settings. My favourite piece from this show, My Infinitesimal Dwelling, depicts an impossible cubbyhole of a house, but there is sanctuary to be found there, especially in the shadow of the pylon that blots the surrounding land. Maybe therein lies the subtle correspondence.  / Vernon Steel

It is few thankless hearts out there who would turn down the opportunity for a freebie. Sadly, in these hard-up times, free things rarely come greater than a sample of fish batter from a box outside Malone’s on Dame, or a stop or two on the LUAS before the ticket cops threaten to fine. And yet the IFI, in its unflinching commitment to the cinematic rosters of Dubliners, is hosting another of its famous Open Days of complimentary cinema so we can all stop being such film philistines already under the umbrella excuse of indigence. From Dr. Suess’s The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T, to the original Godzilla, King of the Monsters, to a sneak preview of Coppola’s The Bling Ring, this Open Day boasts a line-up in which even a miser would be an idiot not to invest—preserve your chances of the steal by queueing early. / Kristen Pye

Subcultures didn’t come much cooler than Two-Tone, which emerged in the late 70s to challenge the humdrum greyness and authority of Thatcher’s Britain. Uniting races across bleak and broken council estates, it sought the type of change memorably echoed by Terry Hall in Ghost Town. The Ska movement’s soundtrack had the energy and DIY ethos of punk alongside a heavy Jamaican influence, whilst aesthetically it retained the finesse of Mod with a more relaxed twist. Does it get much better? August will see Conlan’s pub in Booleigh become the epicentre of the Irish reggae and ska scene. However for those who can’t wait, don your sharpest Fred Perry, grab a pork pie hat and head to The Social for a night of Skatastic sounds from Gangsters, The Very Specials and a DJ set from Joe Behan (Ska Patrol). Come here rudeboy… / Aaron Purcell

Spanning every hue of the spectrum and composed with the aid of chemical stimulants to animate the ink into semi-random trajectories and patterns, the works of Conan Wynne’s Fluid Motion seek to represent the symbolism of progress and idea creation upon each saturated canvas—either that or we’re looking at post-race competitors of the Colour Run. Whichever way, Wynne, citing Pythagoras and chaos theory as inspiration, has created a testament to chaos and the haphazard in his latest series, which he will further animate with an in-gallery musical performance on Saturday evening. Mixing modern analogue modular synthesizers and vintage Moogs, Wynne’s partly improvised set will analogize the technological manipulation of his visual art. The night promises to be a truly synesthetic experience. / Kristen Pye

Thank the Purple One it wasn’t Travolta. That is exactly who Warner wanted to replace Prince in the role of The Kid. Can you imagine that? In the lead up to the Summer of 1984, his diminutive royal badness had a music career that was bubbling under very nicely without quite hitting boiling point. Then came his first U.S number one, When Doves Cry, followed soon after by this film and accompanying soundtrack, his cathartic opus, Purple Rain. Coming across as a very loose - thankfully Travolta-less - semi-autobiographical tale of aspiring rock musician, The Kid, the Minneapolitan mini maestro pulled the strings and favours on a relatively tiny $7million budget. It was a smash. Scooping $70m at the box office, the movie and soundtrack propelled the pint-size prodigy to international superstardom. But enough purple prose, it’s all about the songs. Win Tickets / Simon Judge

Pioneers of what they like to call “Samba Doido” or “Crazy Samba”, Azymuth are a Brazilian jazz-funk fusion band who have been creating far-out rhythms since the early 70s. The group are perhaps best known for their 1979 album Light As A Feather, which they are set to perform for the first installment of the Beck’s Vier Rhyhm Series, the second due to take place with next month’s Pharcyde gig. And no better way to kick things off than with some smooth 70s synthy space jazz. If you haven’t heard of Azymuth by name or reputation, then perhaps you’ve come across their UK Top 20 hit, Jazz Carnival, a riotous jazz-disco affair with a stomping beat, funked up bass line, glistening keys, iconic lead-synth melody, and pew-pewing syn-drums that were surely an influence for Todd Terje’s recent hit Inspector Norse. / Dave Desmond

Makes me wanna dance, makes me wanna dance, makes me wanna dance. Handily enough Prosumer has saved me the hassle and summed up his music in his own lyrics; and if that's not enough his name spells it out too - a true producer and consumer of house music. House music that never fails to deliver a dance worthy beat. Sure, house is having quite the moment, but Prosumer is undeniably one of the best at solidly delivering good sets, remixes and originals. A Berlin DJ at heart, Prosumer is a resident at the legendary Panorama Bar, proof enough of his quality. For the unfamiliar, Prosumer's boiler room mix is a solid indication of what to expect, and probably best suited to the day after is his recent chilled mix for Fact mag. Both more than worthy of the repeat button. Win Tickets / Niamh Keenan

Gone are the days when Norway was only known for its pillaging Vikings, astronomical student grants and outrageous fishing industry. No no, outdated Norwegian tourism websites need only use one word these days - Finnebassen. Although a household name at home for years, his own Northern light (sorry) only began shining further afield in the past year as his brand of silky smooth, melancholic deep house began pillaging (sorry again, I really can’t stop) the ears of electronic enthusiasts the world over. Get intimate with the man himself with Touching Me, while insulting you with You’re Not Cool Enough, before forgiving him with If You Only Knew, his ultra slick take on Aaliyah. Also on the night, allow the unrevealed identity of Leon Vynehall to warm your bones. This one is shaping up to be a veritable Nordic cracker. As usual, get on it. / Phillip Notaro

The Haunting is a horror classic telling the tale of a group of paranormal investigators who get more than they bargained for when they go to investigate strange happenings at Hill House – a creepy abode with a complex history. Apparently it also serves as a metaphor for queer sexuality that draws heavily on Freudian psychology – after all he did say that fundamentally we are all bisexual... So whether you like a good old scare, psychological analysis or social narrative, you’ll find something compelling here. Either way it stands as a masterpiece of horror filmmaking with not a frame of CGI in sight. Running as part of Qlubs – the LGBTQ film club's – Evil Season, there is pre-screening tea and coffee on hand, although you may find a stiff vodka more appropriate afterwards. / Frances Winston

Bloomsday, which could seem oddly anachronistic and old-fashioned, has an amazing ability to reinvent itself with relevant expansion while remaining appropriately Joycean. The Great Bloomsday Bake Off puts an Irish spin on the none-more-British show, which pulls a similar trick. I mean that as a compliment by the way, as one hopelessly smitten with the Beeb's drool-inducing homage to the village fete. Brooks Hotel will aid your attempt to avoid the dreaded soggy bottom and produce the perfect loaf of soda bread. And you need not anxiously bite your nails as your effort fails to rise to the appropriate standard in the oven, cos you can partake in Brooks' USP while staying true to the spirit of the day by taking in a documentary on aul Joyce in the hotel's private cinema. Fresh bread and film? It'd better rise to the challenge... / Kate McEvoy

The culmination of a week long celebration of chamber music and world-class performances, this all-day Britten-fest is the cherry on top. Delivered with quality and panache, these concerts commemorate this illustrious composer. The festival attracts both international stars and home-grown talent, offering us a lucky glimpse of some very fine music-making. Throughout the day, a snippet of Britten’s expansive musical output is presented in context: it is performed alongside the music that inspired it and the music he in turn inspired in others. You’d do well to top and tail the day. Dubliner Finghin Collins is performing chamber music alongside his talented colleagues in a free noon concert, while in Smock Alley, Robin Tritschler performs a programme of ‘Brittish’ song. It would be a folly to not catch one, or all four, of these musical treats. Robert Blake 

On principle, I find the concept of handkerchiefs to be deeply upsetting. While I largely belong to the reduce, reuse, recycle everything school of thought, I remain a one-use tissue kinda’ gal for the same reasons I only use bath water once, or dental floss (hypothetically, if I ever flossed). Miriam McConnon feels differently. In her installation Tama, previously displayed in Cyprus during its presidency of the EU and now in Merrion Square to celebrate Ireland’s turn at the helm, McConnon has patched together a cloth measuring a mammoth 550 square metres, which will shroud a tree in the centre of the park. Riffing on an old Cypriot tradition, McConnon also invites viewers to hang handkerchiefs of their own off the tree of the tama’s display, which she will affix to the cloth after its take-down. Gross yet intriguing. / Kristen Pye

The only kind of birthday parties most people like are ones that aren’t their own, where they can eat lots of cake, drink too many vodkas and not have to face the crow’s feet in the morning. A party is certainly the last thing the newly retired, soon to be divorced Breda wants, but when her friends arrive on her doorstep with gifts and a small off licence worth of alcohol she has no choice but to celebrate. However, is the party really for Breda or is it an excuse for her friends to forget about the problems occurring in their own private lives? Shush, written by Elaine Murphy, explores the unexpected challenges faced by five women in later life. Staged in a suburban Dublin home, the play creates a familiar platform in which to explore the differing ways these characters attempt to adapt to their new circumstances. / Ruth Hurl

First things first, hats off to Session Victim for the name itself, eliciting connotations of friends and strangers fallen foul to the effects of ‘too much’ at parties, alcohol and substance fuelled evenings and of course sessions alike. But certainly not you or me, right? Right. Meet the lads, Hauke Freer and Matthias Reiling, one from Berlin, one from Hamburg, both from planet awesome. Great vibes and even greater tunes are a staple of the German duo, which comes from an undeniable chemistry that only two decades of true friendship and musical brotherhood can manifest. The 2011 insanely uplifting Summer anthem Good Intentions, (which holds up excellently every Summer) coupled with one of the grooviest Boiler Room sets ever, are more than enough reason to get down to this and become the next victim. Expect full on funky groove house. / Phillip Notaro

Neglected on release but now a cult classic, the third collaboration between director John Carpenter and star Kurt Russell is quite simply one of the most entertaining movies ever made. A gloriously dumb cocktail of kung fu flick and 80s action, Big Trouble in Little China sees Russell's Jack Burton journeying beneath the streets of San Francisco to rescue a couple of green-eyed girls from the clutches of shady businessman/2000 year old demon Lo Pan (Dave to his mates). Accompanied by ostensible sidekick Wang Chi, who we gradually realise is the real hero of the piece, Russell bulldozes his way through a series of increasingly insane set-pieces, drawling out the stupid-smart dialogue like John Wayne Jr. in a wifebeater. The whole wonderful mess is topped off by a theme tune belted out by the director in full-on rock god mode. / Conor McDevitt

When dawdling past old neglected buildings in town, do you ever feel a pang of dejection and wonder if our city is fit for purpose? Do you feel the debilitating weight of the broken window theory crushing Dublin’s fault lines even deeper than before when you see historical areas of our social landscape fall further into disrepair and abandon? These are the questions Urban Knights are posing with a purpose. They want to change the city and are asking how you'd redesign it to optimise change within our community environments. Giving practical ideas for encouraging public engagement within shared civic spaces, Urban Knights' plan to open a dialogue with the public to reinvent our metropolis; we are its inhabitants after all. A worthwhile talk for the sage flaneur within us all. Laura Hayley Kavanagh

Anyone who harbours ambitions of becoming a published novelist dreams of the day they sign on the dotted line with a publishing house. But what’s the real story with book deals? Why can’t all writers pull a JK Rowling and go from welfare cheques to international acclaim? What happens between the scribble-lair and the chat-show chair? And what happens once you actually land that coveted deal? Attempting to de-mystify the Irish literary landscape and the shadowy world of the book-trade, authors Paul Lynch, Gavin Corbett and Peter Murphy will be at the Irish Writers’ Centre separating myth from the reality of the challenges facing new writers. This talk is a must for anyone who wants to know what happens after that publisher comes a-knockin’ / Carrie King

Following the success of the inaugural Spiel, in which we opened up The Bottom Half of the Internet for close inspection and grasped an understanding of bitcoins, we return with Spiel *002. This time we are talking to the legends of The Phoenix, literally. After clocking up 30 years of publishing we've invited Paddy Prenderville and Paul Farrell of Phoenix Magazine to teach us magazine upstarts how to put a private eye on public figures and remain relevant, thorny and deliver proper investigative journalism... without too many visits to the Four Courts. Interviewing them is the broad-shouldered broadcaster Colm O'Mongain and joining them on stage will be the Rabble possé. Having secured their fund:it campaign and celebrated by delivering some top notch dispatches from Istanbul, Rabble are the shining Young Bloods. / Le Cool Dublin

Joss Whedon's recent visit to town for JDIFF whipped my social media feeds into a frenzy. He brought along a new departure for his loyal fan-base to enjoy, an adaptation of Shakespearean screwball romantic comedy Much Ado About Nothing. But fear not faithful Browncoats, Whedon has cast his misbehaver-in-chief Nathan Fillion, with dogged Doctor Tam (Sean Maher ) along for the ride. Lest those more comfortable in the Buffy-verse feel left out, Amy Acker (also of Dollhouse fame) & Alexis Denisof are your bickering protagonists. And look out for the implacable Agent Coulson tackling the prose and verse. It's a smorgasbord for those who worship at the altar of Whedon. And if there's one thing that the man can master, it's an ensemble cast, leaving plenty for fans of the text to enjoy. Blessed are the geek, for they shall inherit the earth. / Kate McEvoy

Showroom documents a festival in Tamil Nadu, India, where once a year the transgender and eunuch community gather to celebrate their sacred deity Aravan. Squalor, frenzy and ecstasy combine in Tiane Doan Na Champassak’s photographs that document the orgiastic sexual liberation with which the Aravanis pay homage to their deity and identity. Some of the images are shocking because of their sexually explicit subject-matter, but even more so, they shock because of the disbelief and irresistible fascination one experiences in their presence. Flashes in the dark reveal moments of affection or simple sexual transgressions which in themselves capture the thin line on which the community has built its identity within India’s complex cast system – between the sacred and the grotesque, the celebrated and despised… / Roisin Agnew

For over two decades now, an orgasmic reaction to a pastrami sandwich has been planting seeds of doubt in the minds of lovers everywhere by way of Meg Ryan’s performance in that idiosyncratic icon of romantic comedy When Harry Met Sally. If you’ve ever spent a Friday night in with cable TV, you, too, have likely found yourself spectator to the climactic scene (sorry) in the same inescapable manner of death and taxes—(though Meg is arguably more likable than either of these). But the base inevitability of a rerun of Rob Reiner’s masterpiece on the small screen is no reason not to buy a ticket to see it in on Blu-Ray at the IFI as part of the Feast Your Eyes dinner club series. Stick around afterwards for a meal inspired by the film at the Café Bar and you may be party to a rerun in real-time. / Kristen Pye