Thursday, December 24, 2015
A year of extraordinary stagnation and unrelenting bleakness now draws to closure across Britain - the dearth of hope as epitomised by the December closure of the last working deep coal pit in the United Kingdom at North Yorkshire's Kellingley Colliery. This three decades after the historic miners' strike whose Thatcherite defeat would surely herald a new epoch wherein every British yeoman would make money from money alone into eternity.
The Ghost of Christmas Past in Dickens' A Christmas Carol of course took the unreformed financial services professional Scrooge on an unforgettable festive night flight which included a visit to a mining community located upon a barren English moor - three generations of one family joined together in Christmas hymnal despite the manifold physical hardships of their lives:
"What place is this?" asked Scrooge. "A place where miners live, who labour in the bowels of the earth" returned the Spirit. "But they know me...See".
Thereafter Scrooge witnesses two lighthouse keepers toasting the celebration of Jesus' birth with grog and further song while aboard a nearby ship the past was also alive and alight that holy night - a shared folk culture, a brotherhood of toil and reflective memories of family and community as lights scoured into the darkness of ceaseless struggle:
They stood beside the helmsman at the wheel, the look-out in the bow, the officers who had the watch; dark, ghostly figures in their several stations; but every man among them hummed a Christmas tune, or had a Christmas thought, or spoke below his breath to his companion of some bygone Christmas Day, with homeward hopes belonging to it. And every man on board, waking or sleeping, good or bad, had had a kinder word for another on that day than on any day in the year; and had shared to some extent in its festivities; and had remembered those he cared for at a distance, and had known that they delighted to remember him.
Our national life this Christmas time appears fundamentally hamstrung and irreversibly damaged by twin evils - the clear toxification of the world of work on manifold fronts too depressing and tedious to list again for regular readers of this blog and the likelihood that the satanisation of London's capital city status has dragged the country down with it into a literal Dickensian hell. This despite mainstream media's selective silence over the mathematical oddity of a London property Ponzi scam taking root and gathering such firestorm pace during the course of a ten year economic depression and a credit crunch. Odd that.
The historical endgame may indeed be playing out its final scenes in front of us with little need for further prognoses on our national decline as opposed to literal moral autopsies on the corpse of a society now transformed beyond imagination, sanity and worth by a vile greed and avarice that would once have shamed British culture and civility to the core.
Today however I always remain mindful of some of the singlemost extraordinary hours ever lived on this earth as would directly affect our own country. Indeed two of the three Ulster regiments in a then British Ireland would be engaged in the Christmas Truce of December 1914 - 101 years ago this very night.
At 2030 Central European Time on that Christmas Eve Colonel George Laurie of the Royal Irish Rifles signalled to regimental HQ the following dispatch:
Germans have illuminated their trenches, are singing songs and are wishing us a Happy Christmas. Compliments are being exchanged but am nevertheless taking all military precautions. No shots had been fired since 8pm.
The Royal Irish Fusiliers were also engaged in a truce at New Year near Ploegsteert in Belgium. On 31st December men from the First Battalion in the frontline trenches were approached by a German infantryman under a white flag in No Man's Land. He offered a bottle of Prussian cognac to Captain George Hill and when Hill hesitated the German soldier drunk some himself and encouraged the Irishman that it was "not poison".
The Royal Irish Rifles, the Royal Irish Fusiliers and the Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers recruited from across the North of Ireland and in British counties that would find themselves on different sides of the border upon the 1921 partition of the island. The Royal Irish Rifles thus recruited in County Louth in what would be located in the future Republic of Ireland, the Royal Irish Fusiliers likewise in Counties Cavan and Monaghan and the Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers in County Donegal.
The Royal Irish Fusiliers in particular would be physically decimated on the first day of the Battle of the Somme with barely sixty of the six hundred advancing soldiers returning to their trenches on the 1st of July. Indeed two of the most famous photographs of all the Great War soldiers from the British Empire relate to the 36th Ulster Division - a picture of a trench raid by the Fusiliers and a study of a group of resting soldiers from the RIR. The deeply serious, pensive and handsome face of the soldier in the middle in particular is unforgettable - his identity and fate unknown.
My own great-grandfather was initially a political soldier in Edward Carson's volunteer army of 1912 and would fly his Union Flag in Belfast from dawn to dusk on the anniversary of the Somme sacrifice. Because of his agnosticism towards Orangeism itself he made sure his West Belfast neighbours on the Shankill understood that the tribute to his fallen comrades on that one day alone stood aside from the broader July celebrations in Belfast to the Glorious Revolution. Such subtleties of national history and cultural identity of course being beyond the pale of comprehension for today's idiot society and media whitewash.
The three North Irish Brigade regiments amalgamated as the Royal Irish Rangers in 1968 and later merged with the Ulster Defence Regiment as the Royal Irish Regiment in 1992. The Royal Irish Fusiliers regimental museum is situated at Armagh in Northern Ireland as of course twenty one years after that peace offering of Stettin Cognac a British Ireland would have long ceased to exist - the Royal Irish Rifles being renamed the Royal Ulster Rifles in 1921 - and Stettin itself would have become part of Poland after Allied air raids in 1944 had destroyed 65% of the city including most of the centre and the port.
The condition of life in Europe twenty one years from now is of course truly inconceivable to any intellect, predication, applied wisdom or even nightmare. Yet amidst this gathering discord there is still time for honest reflection and consideration during this fleeting and magical winter day. That upon our own rich past (including family and friends from times and places gone forever) and our own shared warmth, wit and intelligence here in whatever still passes as home - or what we are culturally yet allowed to acknowledge as such.
After all both the penitent Marley's Ghost and the bloody Fields of Flanders had alike once proclaimed to European mankind that Christ Is Born Today.
Saturday, November 7, 2015
During the Ulster Troubles, and outside the remit of political actors and those caught up in the violence of the times, only the Northern Ireland comedian James Young would appear to have pro-actively used a significant public profile to plead for reconciliation through the remit of political satire and a folk celebration of working class life.
Conversely, and as discussed in an earlier post, it would mainly be sporting figures from Northern Ireland that appeared capable of winning unqualified allegiance and broad-based support across the sectarian divide. And indeed across the generation gap too if one were to qualify similar claims now associated with the Seventies punk music scene in Belfast and Derry.
Ten years on this month from the death of George Best and the affection towards his person remains undimmed across Britain alongside the pride he brought to all the Ulster people during days of anarchy, mass murder and bedlam.
Best the working class Protestant born in a city whose Loyalist gable end walls would often be inscribed during the Seventies with the acronym KAI for “Kill All Irish” and yet would be mourned from Dublin to Galway and from Donegal to Cork alike.
Between April 1964 and October 1977 George Best would play 37 times for Northern Ireland and score nine goals in a series of matches which would consist of 13 victories, 16 defeats and eight draws. 16 of these appearances would be against British opposition. These 37 matches in turn were made up of 16 Home Internationals, 14 World Cup qualifiers, 5 European Championship qualifiers and two friendlies. By the deep worldly wisdom of 2015 it surely remains a matter of conjecture as to whether George Best's career was qualified by his lack of appearances at World Cup final tournaments or whether the World Cup finals themselves were qualified by his absence in the Sixties and Seventies.
If mid-1966 can widely be accepted as the start of political unrest with three murders carried out by the Ulster Volunteer Force then it can be seen that the majority of Best’s international appearances took place during the Troubles themselves. The international football team even had to play home matches on mainland Britain between 1972 and 1974 because of the scale of violence - Best himself played in the 16th February 1972 match against Spain in Hull for this reason.
The background of civil conflict in Northern Ireland that ran in parallel to Best’s domestic and international career injected a significant undertone to much of the public response to his death in the country of his birth. Best’s passing uniting the men and women of Ulster in the realisation that the ghost to be mourned was not only that of an acclaimed individual but of an often maniacal time shared together which had nevertheless uniquely defined them as one people.
For all the naysaying of older generations of Northern Irish people - about a talent cut short and wasted alike a well-recalled raft of fellow Celts - for the children and teenagers of the Sixties and Seventies he was indeed nothing more than a defining cultural cornerstone of our lives and has left behind a million memories of genius, skill, intelligence and so much laughter and fondness.
Perhaps in other circumstances another Northern Ireland player could have performed such an act of brazen cheek against hapless England goalkeeper Gordon Banks in 1971 by flicking the ball away during a goal kick and heading into the net – but only Georgie Best could have done it in front of a Cinzano advertising hoarding in the world’s then bleakest grief hole. Likewise perhaps no other celebrity in the history of television marketing could have managed to advertise Cookstown family sausages and Fore aftershave while keeping both professional and personal reputation intact.
To no small degree the former Junior Orangeman and Belfast Telegraph delivery boy from the Cregagh estate would indeed be the sole public figure to supersede Irish political rancour in life and death – the many commentaries he made himself upon religious division on the island of Ireland having unfailingly reflected genuine sadness and humility.
For when Ulster almost ripped its physical being apart with butchery for three decades perhaps no other individual contributed so much to help rebalance how others saw us in our time of war - showing the world the kind of people we were and, more importantly, were not.
Tuesday, October 13, 2015
If 2014 left the impression of our country having been hit by a comet then 2015 is when the smoke clears to see what is left. London was always a difficult place to live and never an easy option but - to give it some posthumous due - it was never but never unrelentingly fucking nasty the way it is now every solitary desperate hour.
In another world in the last seven days Northern Ireland reached the finals of the European Championships with such limited human resources - in comparison to the teams who played in the 1958, 1982 and 1986 World Cup Finals under Peter Doherty and Billy Bingham - that it constitutes a now globally acknowledged sporting miracle on behalf of the players and management.
What has been particularly interesting this week has been the incredible amount of detente and goodwill to be seen on new media platforms between the two opposing fanbases on the island of Ireland regarding successful qualification for both parties.Sport as ever qualifying the cultural division of the Irish people and their political conflict alike. This amplifying in turn the light year distance between fundamental civility and decency with the spiv toxic future a New London readily and voluntarily willed upon itself - burning its bridges with the past and the people who made it what it was.
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
Since the last General Election in fact British life feels like nothing more than waiting in a foreign airport terminal for a severely delayed plane to take you home that will in fact never ever arrive - and with no money in your pockets for that eternal duration. Just indeed as the Northern Ireland international football squad in the Seventies would hopelessly scour the skies the evening before the ubiquitous Big Match for the possible arrival of The Playboy of the Western World himself.
The late Gerry Anderson's acclaimed BBC documentary A City Dreaming about the modern history of Derry captured this mood perfectly in terms of memory interfacing with a terminal loss of working class heritage, culture and place. Was thinking about this recently on the news of the actor George Cole's death - having been very familiar with the streetscapes of the Minder locations in the Eighties and Nineties.
I actually walked down one of those very West London thoroughfares only two months back and the differences were extraordinary in terms of the number of small businesses having changed hands or folded in the interim. Those radical changes I saw - which included the old record shop Spinning Disc (that for years had a cardboard cutout of Elvis in his gold suit in the window and where I recall buying a Jay and the Americans CD) having been replaced by some commercial nothingness - were easily on the scale of the lost Lambeth and West End to be seen in Jack Wild's wonderful 1971 Melody.
On a less melancholy note I was speaking to a friend last week about old television schedules from the golden years of Sixties and Seventies British television. Thinking back to programmes like Graham Kerr's The Galloping Gourmet, Paint Along With Nancy and Kim Marshall's Yoga For Health that are embedded so deep in our tribal memory banks of daytime transmissions. The talk came around to children's programmes and Hope and Keen's Crazy Bus - which I can just about recall from the early Seventies growing up in Northern Ireland.
There is little on the internet about the comedy duo of Mike Hope and Albie Keen but what I could source confirmed that the two series they made in 1971-72 - Hope and Keen's Crazy House and Hope and Keen's Crazy Bus - followed on from a period when the Scottish comics were heralded as being the next Morecombe and Wise no less.
Crazy House was set in a house where anything could happen and where some of the rooms contained cool musical guests like Freddie and the Dreamers - Crazy Bus had the duo on the road around Britain being stalked by a sinister villain in black known as The Shadow. I almost certainly recall one episode where they visited spooky Loch Ness though am absolutely sure the eponymous omnibus never visited my own Belfast hometown during that sad sad period of even darker shadows. The Hope and Keen Scene was their final series in 1975.
IMBD notes that three of the original seven episodes have been lost by the BBC however some kind soul has uploaded the gloriously catchy theme tune from the first series onto youtube. A public comment attached to this in turn recalls how the song was used in a pub scene in the fourth episode of the seventh series of Thames Television's Public Eye drama in 1975 - They All Sound Simple At First. Alfred Burke with dimpled half pint glasses, car brochures, HP sauce, Carling Black Label and cuntish barmen.
The missing link no less between The Small Faces' Ogden's Nut Gone Flake and a Ringo vocal from The White Album period. There is a fantastic blending of vocal styles here - Seventies transatlantic lounge eliciting a clearly Glaswegian echo.
Happy memories indeed of a more contented Britain....I would certainly rather be back in that crazy house now rather than in this fucking Common Purpose austerity asylum.
Please play this song at my funeral...
Sunday, March 8, 2015
Last summer during a visit to Northern Ireland I drove eastwards along the Antrim coast from the resort of Portrush down through to the port of Larne. The weather had been truly awful the entire week but on that day it was absolutely glorious. At times like these the Causeway Coast across Counties Londonderry and Antrim opens up some of the most magnificent stretches of scenery to be seen anywhere in the British Isles - matching anything to be found in the Scottish Highlands or the English West Country.
Between Bushmills and Ballycastle I halted briefly at Portbraddan beside White Park Bay. There are only a literal handful of houses situated here in this coastal hamlet alongside what is apparently the smallest church in Ireland - though there are questions as to its authentic status as such.
When I entered Saint Gobbans Church I noticed that amongst other pieces of information and ephemera placed on the walls was a poem written by a Welsh visitor in the Seventies - Trish O'Brien of Cardiff. It reflected upon the idyllic peace and tranquility to be found there which contrasted with the political sterility and terrorist violence endemic throughout the whole globally vilified north of Ireland at the time.
The poem is entitled Intruders and is dedicated to Sally - the words a heartbreaking reflection upon those three lost decades:
The only sound, our shoes
Scrunching along the garden path
Punctuating the late afternoon tranquility.
Five sleepy houses apparently mesmerised
By the ocean's millpond disguise,
The minuscule church nodding off, unnoticed.
Towering wooden cliffs protective of this rocky cove
Locked in its emerald embrace, sheltering all within
From the prevailing North Westerlies.
Or so the salmon fisherman informed us
In gentle brogue, his stress free complexion
Belying his seventy four years.
With his Border Collie heralding our presence
He approached with patient tolerance
Seeing us pause at the turn of the track.
This is a special place, the other face,
The face they don't show you on the news
We retraced our steps, feeling like intruders.
Monday, February 2, 2015
In my mind there are three truly great "lost" 7" British rock singles of the late Sixties and early Seventies. These are The Who's Dogs, The Small Faces' Afterglow (Of Your Love) and The Kink's Sweet Lady Genevieve. These were respectively released in 1968, 1969 and 1973.
Ironically The Who's extraordinary paean to the world of London dog racing is very redolent of the late-period Small Faces sound on Immediate and reached number 36 in the British charts. Afterglow was the final single the latter group released and would reach the same chart position - the group split up before the planned 1862 album was completed though some of the exceptional recorded work appeared on The Autumn Stone compilation. The Kinks Sweet Lady Genevieve was pulled off the concept album Preservation: Act I - the second of five such releases between 1972 and 1975. The single did not chart and the album made number 177 - the worst performing album the group ever released I believe.
If there is one long player from this period that I feel deserves so much retrospective appraisal it is The Rolling Stones' 1967 Between The Buttons - an album from which no singles were lifted and which the group themselves have been relatively dismissive of subsequently by way of the muddy production. The album was their fifth release and sits between the classic Aftermath - which fundamentally drew the group away from the rhythm and blues focus of their first three releases on Decca with tracks such as Under My Thumb, Mother's Little Helper and Think - and the flawed psychedelic experimentation of Their Satanic Majesties Request.
The album contains 12 tracks though two were withdrawn for the American release and replaced with the Let's Spend The Night Together/Ruby Tuesday single tracks. I am not overly fond of some of the songs on the album but on six tracks alone there is something so unique the group seemed to have captured about a time of clearly unrepeatable social flux and the spirit of a city now long lost to all hope.
The profoundly misogynistic Yesterday's Papers is the sole track from the album that tends to appear regularly on compilations but it is worth revisiting the pace of Connection (which Keith Richards himself claims is the best obscure Stones track in their catalogue) and the snarling All Sold Out. Something Happened To Me Yesterday harkens to a Vaudevillian note with Richards' first ever vocal appearance on the chorus section and a friendly Dixon of Dock Green spoken outro from Jagger. My favorite two tracks though are Back Street Girl's beautiful accordion and harpsichord waltz - the sole track on the album Jagger rates in hindsight - and My Obsession which surely can be read as one of the most sexually-driven songs of the period alike The Pretty Thing's Midnight To Six Man. Personally, the ethereal atmosphere of Back Street Girl seems to sit alongside Van Morrison's Linden Arden Stole The Highlights as a piece of work that not only transcends our times but actually seems to flit in and out of linear time itself. The other tracks on the album clearly reflect Kinks and Dylanesque touches at points and are She Smiled Sweetly, Cool Calm Collected, Please Go Home, Complicated, Miss Amanda Jones and Who's Been Sleeping Here?
The album was initially recorded in Los Angeles and then in London's Olympic Studios in Barnes and the Pye Studios in Great Cumberland Place. Gerard Mankowitz's photoshoot for the cover took place on North London's Primrose Hill on a November morning in 1966. He used a home-made Vaseline-smeared filter to envision the band entering daylight from a night of toxic dissolution - Brian Jones' literal physical decline complementing this design perfectly. When the group ascended the hill around 6am that morning they met a local hippy character called Maxie who was already there playing his flute. On being offered a jazz cigarette by Jagger he replied "Ah breakfast!" The album reached number 3 and number 2 on the British and American album charts respectively.
Every other weekend I find myself walking over Primrose Hill on my way from North London into the West End and Soho through The Regents Park. I look over a city which has clearly and quite dismissively dictated to me and so many of my peers that the future lies elsewhere - our contribution over decades to its character and animation counting as naught. The view is of a now hostile, soured and clearly fractured metropolis. That strange overlooked album by The Rolling Stones yet sending the faintest of echoes from an inclusive time of cultural fusion across the class divide and through to an economic crossroads that no living city could but ever survive.
Well thank you very much and now I think it's time for us all to go. So from all of us to all of you, not forgetting the boys in the band and our producer Reg Thorpe, we'd like to say God bless. So if you're out tonight, don't forget, if you're on your bike, wear white. Evening all.
Thursday, January 29, 2015
Johnny Rogan's excellent 2005 No Surrender overview of Van Morrison's deep connectivity with his Northern Irish roots includes recollections of Belfast's thriving rhythm and blues scene of the mid-Sixties. One woman recalled seeing Morrison's Them at the city's Maritime Hotel in College Square North and how: "I knew those days were special and everybody there knew those days were special. There was such an aura about that time in Belfast - and it was never to be repeated. Ever".
Some posts ago in an article about Irish hard rock group Thin Lizzy I mentioned the huge raft of Northern Irish entertainment venues which closed over the course of the Troubles and indeed two of the "Ballrooms of Romance" have been in the news recently. The yet intact Orpheus ballroom in York Street is facing final demolition and there are efforts afoot to restore the Floral Hall near Belfast Zoo. The 1932-vintage Orpheus was situated on the top floor of the Co-Operative department store while details of the latter's history since 1936 can be found on the ever wonderful Lord Belmont catalogue of Irish architecture. Lulu, The Small Faces and Pink Floyd all played at The Floral Hall and the then barbed-wire enclosed building was used as a counting centre during the Northern Ireland Border Poll of 1973 - a year when 250 people died in Troubles-related deaths across the British Isles. It closed as an entertainment venue in 1972 and currently is used for storing feed for the city's zoo animals.
The details of the tragic loss of that once thriving Belfast - dance venues, restaurants, cafes, pubs, cinemas and theatres alike - are fascinating to recall yet terribly melancholy to reflect upon. This encapsulated for myself with regard to the North Street area of Belfast city centre near the long-destroyed Smithfield market. Two other excellent examples of art deco design in the city alongside the ballrooms mentioned above can be found here - namely the derelict Bank of Ireland site and the Sinclair Building opposite. Older readers of the blog will of course recall The Elephant Bar in the street with its famous five-feet high grey wooden elephant outside the entrance. The pub survived many bomb blasts of the Troubles but closed in the Eighties. I have seen many pictures of North Street from the Fifties and Sixties that are so redolent of a bustling North American city of the period - today it is a derelict, haunted and depressing thoroughfare albeit awaiting radical redevelopment by way of university expansion.
An extraordinarily large raft of entertainment venues existed in Sixties Belfast up to the period when serious civil disorder commenced in mid-1969 - comparable to any major port city of its size and enough indeed to warrant its own listings newspaper City Week. An excellent showband feature on the Culture Northern Ireland website notes that - besides The Orpheus and The Maritime Hotel - the main venues in the city centre for live music at the time included The Plaza in Chichester Street which was regarded as the city's best, The Fiesta in Hamilton Street, Romano's in Queen Street, Maxim's in Fountain Street, The Tudor Hall and The Elizabethan in Royal Avenue, The Orchid in King Street, The Astor in College Court, The Boom Boom Rooms (The Starlite) in Arthur Square and The Gala in Victoria Street.
As noted in the earlier post there were also many busy venues outside the city beside the Floral Hall in Newtownabbey - namely The Embassy in Derry, The Strand in Portstewart, The Arcadia and Kellys in Portrush, The Savoy in Portadown, The Flamingo in Ballymena, The Locarno in Portaferry, The Star in Omagh, The Top Hat in Lisburn, The Pallidrome in Strabane and Caproni's in Bangor. Of all the details of that lost time and place surely the greatest of all relates to the latter Palais de Danse which bore the legend Through These Doors Have Passed The Most Beautiful Women In The World.
Some of the other Belfast dancehalls that are fondly recalled on internet forums included Betty Staff's in Anne Street, Cecil Clarke's in Upper Donegall Street and Sammy Houston's Jazz Club on Victoria Street. One of the most oft-used pieces of archive television footage of a city centre bombing in the early Seventies was captured near the dancehall in Donegall Street. Anne Street meanwhile was very close to the site of the 1972 Abercorn restaurant atrocity and Victoria Street is the location of Europe and possibly the world's most bombed hotel - The Europa.
All of these venues held lunchtime and weekday dance sessions and - incredulously enough to consider at a time when Britain is now populated in the main by functioning alcoholics - were dry. The Plaza also set Saturday afternoons aside for children. Terri Hooley's Hooleygan biography recalls how at Betty Staff's ballroom the owner would separate overly amorous couples with a blast of hairspray though didn't seem to mind the use of cannabis. A public commentator on one forum recalled the night he politely asked a lady for a dance at The Fiesta and was met with the reply "Yes you can have it - I don't want it". In another thread about what people missed from days gone by in Belfast a poster stated:
To those who feel better away from Belfast, good riddance, we have the best people in the world here with a small minority of so-called sectarian bigots on all sides. Forget those imbeciles and concentrate on what we had and have. People of my age in their Seventies met girlfriends and our wives in the great dance halls in Belfast, we could leave girls home to any part of the city and get home safely. The girls from Gallaher's taught me to jive in The Plaza on Monday afternoons. Another thing about old Belfast, it was the working class people who kept the country going.
The vast majority of these venues did not survive the initial surge of the Troubles and by the time I was growing up in the Seventies the city centre by night had a heavy presence of soldiers and policemen, was cordoned off with a ring of security fences, looked and felt as dead as a ghost town and frequently radiated menace. I used to sense this a lot when driving through Waring Street at nighttime in the family car - now at the heart of the thriving Cathedral Quarter and used for many location shots in the acclaimed crime drama The Fall. Indeed the walk home my father took in the late Fifties after leaving my mother off from their city centre dance would not have been replicated even by Batman 15 years later.
Van Morrison held to the fact that there was a radical creative gulf between the Them of the Maritime stage and the group's two subsequent recorded albums. That said and acknowledged, have a listen to the powerful and driving I Can Only Give You Everything from 1966 on the group's second LP - as written by Derry's Phil Coulter and covered by both The Troggs and The Liverpool Five. Remember that old Belfast and the people who walked those streets in peace - I desperately wish I could have been one of them.
Monday, January 26, 2015
Sunday, January 18, 2015
I have recently been asked by a regular reader of this blog for some pointers towards quality reading on Ulster history. Although obviously highly subjective my personal overview would be as follows.
During the late Seventies the BBC and Thames Television both produced major historical documentaries concerning the conflict - Ireland A History and The Troubles. The former was written and presented by the late Robert Kee - author of the classic Green Flag trilogy on Irish nationalism - and remains perhaps the definitive and most thoroughly accessible introduction to Irish history in general in my opinion. It should be borne in mind that Roy Foster's Modern Ireland - which I see often in high street bookshops to this day - is definitely not for beginners. Another volume I would highly recommend is Henry Patterson's Ireland Since 1939.
In terms of the history of Northern Ireland itself ATQ Stewart's The Ulster Crisis and Michael Farrell's The Orange State (and later Arming The Protestants) are the best known Unionist and Nationalist interpretations of the political dynamics surrounding partition. Two other important books covering this period are Patrick Buckland's second volume on Irish Unionism and Timothy Bowman's study of Carson's Ulster Volunteer Force.
Some other important works concerning Northern Ireland between the start of the 20th Century and the re-emergence of political violence in 1966 are John Gray's history of the 1907 Belfast dock strike, Philip Orr's The Road To The Somme about the 36th Ulster Division's fate, Paddy Devlin's work on the 1932 outdoor relief strike and Robert Fisk's overview of the radically different experiences of the Second World War in the two Irish states - A Time Of War. Also worth reading is Brian Barton's study of the actual Luftwaffe raids on Northern Ireland and indeed this entire period is covered in Jonathan Bardon's excellent histories of Ulster and Belfast.
For the period of the modern Troubles itself the best general introduction is probably David McKittrick and David McVea's Making Sense of the Troubles while other comprehensive overviews are Tim Pat Coogan's The Troubles, Jack Holland's Hope Against History and J Bowyer Bell's The Irish Troubles. Peter Taylor's BBC Troubles trilogy from the turn of the century are highly recommended too - Provos, Loyalists and Brits.
Of the paramilitary groups involved in the conflict, Henry McDonald and Jack Cusack have written comprehensive studies of the Ulster Volunteer Force and the Ulster Defence Association - McDonald also co-wrote a history of the Irish National Liberation Army with Jack Holland. The best known serious overview of loyalist militants remains Steve Bruce's The Red Hand while two other important works are David Boulton's early Seventies' study of loyalist paramilitary revival and Sarah Nelson's Ulster Uncertain Defenders. Ian S Woods' Crimes of Loyalty study of the UDA is also worth reading. The Official IRA was the subject of Brian Hanley and Scott Millar's fascinating The Lost Revolution while highly regarded histories of the Provisional wing of the Irish Republican Army have been written by J Bowyer Bell, Ed Moloney and Patrick Bishop and Eamonn Mallie. Toby Harden's Bandit Country and Kevin Toolis' Rebel Hearts are also indispensable.
Of the reportage from the early Troubles, Henry Kelly's How Stormont Fell, the Sunday Times' Insight Team study and Martin Dillon and Dennis Lehane's terrifying Political Murder in Northern Ireland are fascinating reads. Dillon's later The Shankill Butchers and The Dirty War are also essential. The four David McKittrick compilations of articles from The Independent cover all aspects of the Troubles history and the peace process.
In terms of biography, Gill and McMillan's collection of brief studies from the early Eighties are first class and most are easy to find second-hand - WB Yeats, Jonathan Swift, Wolfe Tone, James Joyce, Sean O'Casey, James Connolly, Michael Collins, Charles Parnell, Daniel O'Connell, Eamonn De Valera, Sean Lemass, Arthur Griffith, Oscar Wilde, George Bernard Shaw and the Irish and Ulster Unionists Edward Carson and James Craig. Other notable works are Ed Moloney and Andy Pollak's portrait of Ian Paisley, David Sharrock and Mark Devenport on Gerry Adams, Henry McDonald on David Trimble, Chris Ryder on Gerry Fitt and Roy Garland on Gusty Spence. Paddy Devlin's autobiography Straight Left is also excellent and the various recollections of the Birmingham Six and Guildford Four prisoners individually make for very grim reading - Gerard Conlon, Paul Hill, Paddy Joe Hill and Hugh Callaghan.
Other important political works I would highly recommend would be Flann Campbell's The Dissenting Voice history of Northern Protestant radicalism, Alan F Parkinson and Malachi O'Doherty's seperate studies of the worst year of the Troubles - 1972, Robert Fisk's The Point of No Return about the May 1974 Ulster Worker's Council Strike, Jack Holland's Too Long A Sacrifice and Anthony Bailey's Acts of Union reportage, both Padraig O'Malley and David Beresford's works on the 1981 IRA hunger strike, Henry McDonald's Colours and Gunsmoke and Mirrors, Chris Ryder and Vincent Kearney's study of the Drumcree dispute, Ed Moloney's Voices From The Grave interviews with paramilitary figures and Derek Lundy's Men That God Made Mad review of his own Unionist family history. All the fatalities of the Troubles are catalogued in David McKittrick et al's Lost Lives - also see Susan McKay's Bear In Mind These Dead and the WAVE Trauma Centre's deeply disturbing collection of interviews with individuals seriously injured by terrorist violence.
Finally, ten particularly interesting books regarding Ulster that I would suggest are worth investigation are Geoffrey Beattie's We Are The People and Protestant Boy recollections of his youth in loyalist Belfast, the late Wolverhampton Wanderers footballer Derek Dougan's The Sash He Never Wore, punk legend Terri Hooley's Hooleygan autobiography, Lebanese hostage Brian Keenan's I'll Tell Me Ma's memories of his childhood in a now vanished North Belfast, Teddy Jamieson's superb Whose Side Are You On study of sport and the Ulster conflict, Johnny Rogan's No Surrender analysis of Van Morrison and Northern Ireland and Kevin Myer's Watching The Door recollections of his professional engagement with Troubles Belfast.
All these works recall desperate years of bigotry and madness in Ulster and very sad times for the whole of Ireland - so many different generations alike sharing the same wasted years and wasted time.
Sunday, January 11, 2015
And so the most somnambulant Christmas of my near half century on this earth comes to closure. London has seemed completely unanimated since the second week of December right through to around Wednesday 7th January no less. Yet another extraordinary reflection of changing demographics in the capital which makes little sense on any front - let alone the logistics of modern employment as I have ever experienced them personally. Or anybody I know has for that matter.
That most seriously ghostly period of Christmas remains of course the definitive focus of pained nostalgia for so many people thinking back to a long lost Britain - as discussed in the previous post on Brian Desmond Hurst's Scrooge and the 1914 Christmas Truce. Digital technology alas has seemed to have fundamentally undermined so much residual charm of the period in turn with such a large part of the population now physically, emotionally and spiritually welded to hand-held devices - the blanket collapse of Christmas television viewing as an industry ratings-focus merrily helping this decline along apace.
That particular aspect of a shared family Christmas - from grimly dated material like Morecambe and Wise through to serious quality output like the BBC's annual Ghost Story For Christmas - is certainly gone for good though a few pieces of music have still remained a mainstay for myself at that time of year. I think in this respect of Mario Lanza's beautiful collection of Christmas hymns and carols on RCA Victor from 1959, Horslips' timeless folk collection Drive The Cold Winter Away from 1975 and Elvis Presley's Seventies Christmas album - released in October 1971 and recorded in May of that year in Nashville.
One particular aspect of festive times gone by that I recall was avidly listening - on the evening of Christmas Day itself - to the vinyl LPs I had received that morning as presents. I remember a degree of physical engagement that now sits in absolute reversal to the modern day when human patience can barely handle 45 seconds of full album uploads on youtube before moving onto the next full album upload. Such an incredible paradigm shift indeed from treating music with total absorption as compared to ludicrous disrespect to the artists. I clearly recall listening in this regard all those years back to Led Zeppelin's third and fourth albums, Rush's A Farewell to Kings and Hemispheres, The Beatles' red and blue compilations and Kate Bush's Lionheart and Never Forever. Perhaps beyond all of these however I think of Thin Lizzy's 1978 Live and Dangerous - one of the greatest live rock albums of all time and as ranking alongside Van Morrison's It's Too Late To Stop Now, Deep Purple's Made In Japan and The Who's Live At Leeds.
Thin Lizzy were formed in Dublin in 1969 and released twelve studio albums between 1971 and 1983 in all - the first three falling within the remit of bluesy progressive rock, the middle six being broadly hard rock in focus and the remaining three residing within the heavy metal genre in essence. With the exception of a single track - the fourth single The Rocker - the classic live album is drawn from the three year period between 1974 and 1977 and the five releases Nightlife, Fighting, Jailbreak, Johnny the Fox and Bad Reputation - the lineup throughout this time being Irishmen Phil Lynott and Brian Downey, the Scot Brian Robertson and Californian Scott Gorham.
For all that I have just previously disparaged the impatience with which people now treat album uploads on digital interfaces I must confess that the first side of Live and Dangerous was so incredibly exhilarating that I found myself repeating the same four-track song-cycle time and time again and found it difficult to ever even get to the second side. This consisted of Jailbreak, Emerald (which along with Horslips' Dearg Doom remains the greatest of all celtic rock songs into perpetuity), Southbound and the Bob Seger cover Rosalie. Ironically Southbound's lyrics prefigure the radical financial struggles ahead for so many millions of people across the British Isles in the decades to come and to this very day - it is a beautiful piece which clearly stands equal to the other three more famous songs around it. Two other Thin Lizzy songs talk about the curse of emigration from a politically and economically-wracked Ireland in Wild One from Fighting and Fool's Gold from the Johnny The Fox album.
To my complete discredit I never got around to seeing Thin Lizzy live in the late Seventies and early Eighties when growing up in Belfast and look back on this with great regret - similar to missing The Skids in the same period and subsequently The Cramps and the original Hugh Cornwell-lineup of The Stranglers after moving to London. Like Rory Gallagher, Thin Lizzy would often play in Belfast across the timespan of the Ulster Troubles and two of their guitarists - Eric Bell and the late Gary Moore - came from Joceyln Avenue and Castleview Road in the east of the city. An overview of the group's concert history throws up many venues in Belfast and Northern Ireland that are now long gone:
1970 - The Astor Belfast in March, The Carousel's Zig Zag Discotheque Belfast in April and the McMordie Hall at Queens University Belfast in May. Ulster Hall Belfast (two gigs) and Newry Town Hall in October. They also played at the Embassy Ballroom in Derry City during the year.
1971 - Another gig at the Embassy Ballroom in Derry and the Town and Country Inn in Newtownards.
1972 - Kelly's Barn Portrush, Ballymena's Flamingo and the King's Arms Hotel in Larne in July.
1973 - Eric Bell's last performance with the group on New Year's Eve at Queen's University.
1974 - Ulster Hall in January and The Carousel in April. Kelly's Hotel Portrush, Antrim Town's Deerpark Hotel and the King's Club in Bangor in July. In August they played the Deerpark Hotel again and the Ulster Hall. Kellys at Portrush on Boxing Day. Other internet resources mention gigs in Newtownards, Dromore, the Royal Arms Hotel in Omagh and the New University of Ulster at Coleraine. Also a December gig at Romanos Ballroom in Belfast.
1975 - The Flamingo in Ballymena in January.
1978 - Two nights at the Ulster Hall in June.
1980 - Lakeland Forum in Enniskillen and The Forum in Antrim in January. Also a gig at the King's Hall in Belfast.
1982 - Three concerts at the Whitla Hall Belfast in January. Phil Lynott played a solo concert at Derry's Rialto in this year - another at the Maysfield Leisure Centre in Belfast was cancelled.
1983 - Last Thin Lizzy concert in Northern Ireland at the King's Hall Belfast on 8th April.
(The Astor was a dance hall in College Court off Castle Street in Belfast and was one of the city's most popular showband venues and later home to the late Sixties "Marquee Club". It closed in the early Seventies in the midst of the terrorist campaigns of the time and was demolished in 2001. The Carousel was located in Chichester Street in central Belfast - the date of its closure is unknown. Romanos Ballroom was in Queen Street in the city and closed around 1969-70. Ballymena's Flamingo hosted concerts by the likes of The Small Faces, Pink Floyd, The Rolling Stones and Dusty Springfield from its opening in 1959. It also closed at the start of the Seventies. The King's Arms Hotel in Larne was damaged in a large IRA car bomb attack in 1980 and would no longer appear to be in business while The Deerpark Hotel in Antrim was demolished in the late Nineties. The Royal Arms Hotel in Omagh closed in 1999. The Rialto Theatre in Derry became a Primark store and the Embassy Ballroom a nightclub. I can find no information at present on The King's Club in Bangor or the Town and Country Club in Newtownards - both in County Down).
A year after the group split up in 1983 Gary Moore and Phil Lynott released the bestselling single Out In The Fields about the bitter conflict in Ulster. Lynott had released solo albums in 1980 and 1982 - the former covering subjects ranging from now-vanished Soho streetscapes to the death of Elvis Presley to the London punk scene of 1979.
At Christmas in Belfast I noticed that a set of several murals facing The Duke of York pub in the Cathedral Quarter included one of famous Belfast and Ulster personalities including Gary Moore. Alongside him were portrayed George Best, the comic actor James Young, boxer Rinty Monaghan, poet Seamus Heaney, punk icon Terri Hooley, snooker champion Alex Higgins, The Chieftans' instrumentalist Derek Bell, actor Liam Neeson, Eurovisionists Dana and Clodagh Rogers, flautist James Galways, songwriter Phil Coulter and goalkeeper Pat Jennings. Leaning against a wall at the back and looking at the stars - in front of a poster for The Maritime blues venue of Them-vintage - stands Phil Lynott the black Dubliner.
During the Sixties George Best would frequent the overnight bar at the Clifton Grange Hotel in Manchester's Whalley Range which was run at that time by Lynott's mother Philomena - Phil Lynott was a huge Manchester United fan over years and wrote a track about Best called For Those Who Love To Live. He also namechecked the footballer - along with Van Morrison and the Mountains of Mourne - in the Black Rose song's litany of Irish icons.
Very few places in the world produced celebrity figures as cool, utterly unique and charismatic as Best and Lynott in the Seventies - let alone a country at war. So much of the light and style and warmth of Irish cultural identity are embodied in these two men who left this world way too soon. Have a listen tonight to 1973's Vagabonds of the Western World track to remember just how good Thin Lizzy were.
The Rocker and Georgie Best died of substance abuse at the ages of 36 and 59 respectively. Lynott passed away in 1986 and is buried in St Fintan's Cemetery in the Northside of Dublin at the base of Howth Head - Best died in 2005 is buried in Roselawn Cemetery on the outskirts of East Belfast with his mother and father.