Citysong is a play. It’s a poem. It’s a chorus of voices showing us three generations of a Dublin family on one day, and it turns out one day holds the entire past.
There are teen discos, late night taxis, home nurses, Jewish launderettes, vigilantes, babies, immigrants, seagulls. It’s intimate and sweeping, it’s cerebral and compassionate, it’s joyous and ridiculous.
It’s modern day Dublin’s Under Milk Wood via Metamorphoses. (Not the book about the cockroach.) It’s different things at different times, which makes sense seeing as it’s about change.