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CHAPTER 1

GROWING UP BARRY PAUL DEVLIN NOVEMBER 27 1946 NEWRY, COUNTY DOWN, N. IRELAND

environment and the shenanigans that went on as we grew up in the ’fifties. We lived in a house that had lots and lots of books, beside a big Celtic cross that was kind of a metaphor. Ireland was pretty much dominated by the cross, and

My family home is in Ardboe, County Tyrone, which is

life revolved around a cycle of religion, so it played a big

where I grew up. My father, Tommy, had this great idea

part in my childhood.

that whenever my mother Eileen [née O’Hare] came

Our mother was a very careful parent who made sure

to her confinement, he sent her off to visit her sister in

we went to bed early, by 7.30pm, even in the summer.

Newry, which, like most of my family, is how I came to

From our bedrooms, we’d hear the Crozier and Coyle

be born in the town’s Daisy Hill Hospital. It’s still there.

kids playing outside, and we’d listen to the fun they

As a writer, I have problems with my very rural child-

were all having. Then, one summer, we were allowed

hood – it was embarrassingly idyllic. You’re supposed to

to stay up until 9.30 for the first time. I went out to

have angst in you if you’re going to be a writer.

our front gates to find a couple with a portable radio.

I was the only boy of seven children. My sisters Anne,

They’d tuned into Radio Luxembourg, and someone

Marie, Polly, Valerie, Clare and Helen and I grew up on

like Johnny Tillotson was

a farm on the shores of Lough Neagh. My mother was a

playing. I didn’t know any-

teacher at the first public elementary school in the area,

thing like this existed.There

and my father was a publican, fish merchant and gen-

was this extraordinary noise

eral merchant. We had a couple of cottages on the farm,

... and life after 7.30pm.

which accommodated two families who worked for us,

It was the first time I’d

the Croziers and the Coyles, so there were probably 21

connected music with this

kids roaming around.

yearning and this new world

Polly wrote a book about it in 1983, called All Of

you could see ahead of you.

Us There [right], which she dedicated to me. It paints

My horizons multiplied; the

a very accurate picture of the family bonds, the rural

world suddenly had an extra 13

HORSLIPS • TALL TALES: THE OFFICIAL BIOGRAPHY

dimension and nothing was ever the same again.

Later on, music began to be a very personal thing for

Somewhere inside me, I knew that music was impor-

me. I was often ill at boarding school, because I didn’t

tant and that I wanted to be part of it. Not that I had

like it, and being in the infirmary was a way out, espe-

access to a guitar. We had a piano on which my sisters

cially if there wasn’t really anything much wrong with

would play pieces like ‘Für Elise’, but that was hard and

you. You’d just go in there and listen to the bells all day.

nothing like this rock’n’roll that excited me on the radio.

One day in November ’62, when I was in the third

So I played lead hurley stick along to Cliff Richard, Billy

year, I heard ‘Love Me Do’ in the infirmary on a transis-

Fury, Tommy Steele and whatever was cool in 1959.

tor radio lent to me by a friend called Tom McGurk. I

A year earlier, when I was nine, I won a talent con-

told my schoolmates about this great new band called

test, singing Elvis’ ‘Teddy Bear’. It was at one of Clar-

The Beedles. No one knew what the hell I was talking

rie Hayden’s touring variety shows, or ‘fit-ups’ as they

about, least of all myself.

were known, in a big tent that came to the Battery Field

By March ’63, however, when ‘Please Please Me’ was

near to us in Ardboe.They’d do a play like ‘Frankenstein’

out, everyone was starting to become Beatle mad. I had

every night and also have dancing girls and a sax player,

the kudos, because I’d been espousing their cause for a

and then there’d be a talent contest. I vied for first place

good few months.

with a girl called Philomena Cassidy, but being small and cute, I got the prize.

Discovering The Beatles was my real awakening. They were, and have remained, the reason I wanted to be in

I never saw a live gig, but on a Saturday night you

a band. Of course, I moved on and got into other kinds

could hear the distant sounds of a showband being car-

of music, but I still believe they wrote the book and will

ried across the shores of the Lough. It resonated with me

continue to be the standard to which every band aspires.

and yet it seemed so untouchable.We had a local dance-

There’s something about the noise they made together

hall, but it was largely for ceilidhe bands – our parish

that was absolutely remarkable and irreplaceable. You

priest hated the thought of pop music, so the chances of

could argue that it was all about the time and the place,

hearing anything vaguely modern were zero.

but even my children recognise them as being special.

GROWING UP

Something quite profound happened the following

playing the latest Rolling Stones record or whatever.

year. I had a ‘St Paul on the road to Damascus’ con-

I particularly remember the distant strains of the riff

version. I’d been brought up as a Catholic, and as a

from ‘The Last Time’, which teased and rankled with

17-year-old boy I decided that if any of it was true,

me, I’ll admit. It was very frustrating.

then that was the most important thing in life, and that’s what I should attend to.

A part of me knew that I was being robbed of my teenage life, at what history would later determine as

So in September 1964, after I did my senior certifi-

the most exciting time in pop music. This was the very

cate and left school, I joined a missionary order called

birth of pop culture, if you like, and I missed it so

the Maynooth Mission To China – which, strangely,

unutterably much. But then, for some reason, the ban

wasn’t in Maynooth and didn’t go to China at the time;

was lifted. In 1967, I was allowed to hear rock music, so

it was in Navan and went to Peru, Japan and the Phil-

I got to listen to Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band,

ippines. It was more interested in building than theol-

Jimi Hendrix and the soundtrack of the Summer of

ogy, and they were a great bunch of guys who are still

Love. The world outside had turned colour, but I was

out there doing the good work, even though the Mis-

still immersed in a very black-and-white existence.

sionary no longer exists in the way it used to.

Polly bought me a nylon six-string guitar for my 21st

I stayed there for four-and-a-half years, and for the

birthday in 1967, and I was allowed to play it in the

first half I wasn’t allowed to listen to rock and pop

seminary for brief periods in the evening – songs like

music. Every so often I’d be out in the grounds of the

‘Mr Tambourine Man’ that I’d picked up from those

monastery and hear a car passing with the radio on,

passing car radios.

Opposite page: ‘Little Barry’ with his sisters Anne, Polly, Marie and Valerie; his father, Tommy Devlin. This page: The young Devlins and Croziers with Ardboe neighbours in the early 1950s.

HORSLIPS • TALL TALES: THE OFFICIAL BIOGRAPHY

Despite everything, I really did enjoy my time in the

thought of being in a real band. At the end of 1969,

seminary. I felt I had a chance to do something good and

Polly – who lived the most exciting life imaginable as

interesting, and I really was the swotty student. I spent

the features editor for Vogue – invited me over to Italy,

nearly all that time searching, looking for ‘the answer’

to the beautiful converted farmhouse she had in Castel-

and wondering where He was. But He didn’t want to

lina, Tuscany.

show Himself. So I eventually left in 1969, because I no

Chrissie Shrimpton and other very famous English

longer believed in God, and I’ve felt the same ever since.

models were all there, and I was in my element, racing

Being an ex-seminarian in my generation isn’t as

around the Italian roads in a white Mini Moke like I was

unusual as it might seem. I was the last of a generation

in an episode of ‘The Prisoner’. I thought everybody

of Irish men who viewed the clergy as being a reason-

did this.

ably sensible vocation. Gabriel Byrne and John Hume

I remember saying to Polly, ‘I want to be in a band

went through the same experience as I did, and came

and I’m sure you can help me.’ I’ll never forget her

out the other side wanting to do something other than be a priest. During my last two years in the semi-

words. She said, ‘The way you get to be famous is by wanting it.’ I thought it was such a cliché and I was so cross with her, because it felt like she

nary, I had attended University College,

was fobbing me off. I realised later that she

Dublin and completed my BA in English,

was right, of course. The thing was, no one was going to let

and I started getting more serious about

me be in their band, so I’d have to start

playing the guitar. Neil Jordan, who

my own.

played guitar and was in the year

I met Jim at UCD whilst play-

behind me, came over to my

ing with The O’Carroll. Jim was

flat in Harrington Street with Brendan Corry, another gui-

a really gifted actor and we

tarist. They made me green

toured together with the Irish

with envy because they were

Dramatic

Society

[Cumann

Drámaíochta]. After I left the semi-

so good. I wasn’t learning the instrument with any ambition to

nary, I went back to UCD as a layman to do my MA

be in a band. It was all ‘Michael, Row The Boat Ashore’

in English at UCD, but did all my research at Queen’s

and really bad Peter, Paul & Mary numbers, but when I

University in Belfast, where the best resources for the

came out of the seminary, I played for a while in a folk

subject existed.

trio called The O’Carroll, named after our singer, Phil

I was there in August ’69, when The Troubles erupted

O’Carroll. We did about three gigs and, even though

in Derry. It was horrendous. Then the British Army

we were pretty dire despite rehearsing a lot, I loved the

came in, and from that moment we would live our lives

experience of making music together.

in the fearful knowledge that anything could happen,

What The O’Carroll did inspire, however, was the

anywhere, at any time.

“No one was going to let me be in their band, so I’d have to start my own ...” 16

GROWING UP

The boy Lockhart with his parents in Phoenix Park, Dublin.

JAMES FRANCIS LOCKHART FEBRUARY 3 1948 DUBLIN, IRELAND

lot. When I was small, Billy Neville was effectively my minder while my mother worked in the shop. Billy was a friend and neighbour of my aunt Peggy, who had a sweet shop in New Street, just up from St Patrick’s Cathedral. He was known locally as ‘Billy The Sailor’,

My mother, Molly [née Lennon], was from Strokestown,

because he’d been in the British Navy in WWI and

County Roscommon. My father John hailed from Bel-

fought at the Battle of Jutland under Admiral Beatty, as

fast, where his grandparents, James and Susannah, had a

he never tired of telling. Billy was like my substitute

spirit grocer’s in California Street. Mum and Dad met

grandfather, because my actual grandparents in Belfast

in Dublin and we lived in Terenure until I was about 10

died before I was born. I used to polish his medals on

years old, when we moved to James’s Street, above my

Remembrance Day.

Dad’s butcher shop, right next to the Guinness brewery.

One of the regular customers in the butcher’s was

I was an only child and, as I had no siblings to play

a Mrs Cluskey, whose sons Con and Dec had a group

with and I wasn’t especially sporty, I tended to read a

called the Harmonichords, soon to be The Bachelors, 17

HORSLIPS • TALL TALES: THE OFFICIAL BIOGRAPHY Left: Lockhart’s great-grandparents at their shop in Belfast, circa 1900; butcher John Lockhart; young Jim enjoying a day on the farm.

Ireland’s first UK chart-toppers. My Dad was keen for me to play piano, and so I inherited the Cluskeys’ music teacher, Noel Curtin. Noel was connected with the Royal Irish Academy Of Music, and he started coming to teach me the regular classical pieces that youngsters are subjected to. From the age of 10 on, I got stuck into it in a big way, and really liked the challenges he set me. When we moved I went to James’s Street Christian Brothers School, which also had amongst its pupils Terry Woods (later of Sweeney’s Men and The Pogues), Tom Dunne of Something Happens and Newstalk, and Michael Colgan of the Gate Theatre. When I was 16 or 17, a folk group was formed for a school concert – Dylan and Clancy Brothers type of stuff. Our teacher thought we should have a tin whistle in the band and the finger was pointed at me. So I went and bought one, and learned how to play the thing. That was interesting, because learning the piano was a daunting prospect. You had to learn to read music and it was all very formal and structured. A lot of people who learn that way have great difficulty improvising, and in some cases they find it impossible to jam. So it was great when I started on tin whistle, because I found myself playing traditional tunes but ‘bending’ them in my own way, completely by ear. Then I began to play jazz tunes, like ‘Take Five’ and ‘Blue Rondo À La Turk’. That gave me an open door into jamming and not being tied to a score. It also gave me the confidence to quit my lessons and start playing piano more freely. I had been reading everything about jazz and blues that I could lay my hands on. So I had a very good handle on the theory and historical background, and despite not having a record collection, I knew about all of the key musicians and how they fitted into the development of the genres. I was also swotting up on traditional music. I would frequent the folk clubs in Mount Street and stand at 18

GROWING UP

Jim Lockhart: from schoolboy to 18–year–old hiker.

the back, scribbling down the words of Scottish folk

have discovered otherwise, as well as poetry and Celtic

songs, and also spend time in the library, reading the big

mythology.

coffee-table-sized books of old song collections by Bre-

There had been a fair amount of emphasis on all things

andán Breathnach, Colm Ó Lochlainn, PW Joyce and

traditionally Irish at the Christian Brothers School, but

Donal O’Sullivan.

there was much more focus on these things at Irish Col-

Going away to Irish College in the summer was a rite of passage for many Irish teenagers, and from age

lege, and I seemed naturally drawn to everything laid before me.

10 to 16, I went to Brú na Mí, in a former army camp

I was becoming more and more exposed to the ele-

in County Meath. From then I attended Ring College

ments that were at the heart of Irish culture, and lis-

[Coláiste na Rinne] in County Waterford.

tened to Ciarán Mac Mathúna’s programmes on Radio

As well as the swimming and sports, one of the

Éireann, whose folk collections deeply fascinated me. So

things you’d do there was sing a lot in the Irish lan-

when The Chieftains and Seán Ó Riada arrived on my

guage. I learned a lot of Irish songs that I would never

radar, I was primed. 19

HORSLIPS • TALL TALES: THE OFFICIAL BIOGRAPHY

Just like everyone else, I was listening to Radio

Earlsfort Terrace beside St Stephen’s Green, I worked

Luxembourg and the pirate stations, so I was equally

out of a new office on my Ph.D in Environmental Eco-

exposed to rock and pop music in my teens. By the

nomics, which was a bit far-sighted in 1969. I started to

late sixties I started getting into ‘Kid Jensen’s Dimen-

look at how certain industrial processes were affecting

sions’, his late night ‘progressive’ show on 208. Bruce

the environment, and I was collating information that

Springsteen once talked about being in his mother’s car

could be used as a coherent, theoretical tool for people

when he first heard ‘Like A Rolling Stone’, and we all

who wanted to campaign for change on a rational basis

had those jaw-dropping moments. There are so many

rather than emotive. We haven’t actually progressed

rock and pop songs that awakened me – far too many to

much further.

mention – but in terms of my contribution to Horslips,

Before Horslips, I’d played tin whistle in a few

I’d say that the music of Seán Ó Riada was at least as

random groups of musicians during college, including

influential, because it showed there were more ways

Paul Boxberger. We played together as Freddie Slack &

than one of engaging with the tradition.

The Cow-Cow Boogie Whistle Ensemble at various

You couldn’t go anywhere in the summer of 1964

parties and hotel gigs. There was another band I played

without hearing ‘The House Of The Rising Sun’ by

in with Maurice Sweeney, Mick Friel and Jodie Barrett,

The Animals. I first heard it when I was sitting in my

and there was one memorable concert that we did in the

cousin’s Ford Consul and it came bursting out of his

Great Hall at UCD.

car radio. Eric Burdon’s vocals sounded like they were

We would play jazzy-blues numbers by Mose Alli-

going to tear a hole in the little speakers, they were so

son and Dave Brubeck, boogie-woogie and English and

raucous and powerful, and Alan Price’s bluesy solo on

Irish folk songs. It was quite a mishmash, and I suppose

the Vox Continental had me staring at the dashboard in

it gave me a good grounding for fusion. I’d do anything I could to distract me from studying

complete awe. I knew I recognised the song. Dylan had done a

at UCD, and ended up getting involved with the Irish

version of this old folk song a couple of years earlier,

Dramatic Society, the Cumann Drámaíochta. I got on

although I wasn’t very aware of that. It had first been

very well with Seán Ó Briain, the director and creative

recorded in the early 1930s and countless other people

driving force of the group. He was a couple of years

had covered it, from Woody Guthrie to Nina Simone. I

older than the rest of us and was doing an extended

guess it was just in the air. The Animals’ version has an

Master’s degree.

enigmatic sound about it that sums up a period for me, and every time I hear it, I’m right back there.

Unlike DramSoc [the English-speaking drama group], which would do its productions in college, the Cumann

In 1966, I left school and went on to study for a BA

Drámaíochta appeared at Irish language drama festivals

in Economics and Politics at University College Dublin,

around the country. We’d pile into a single-decker bus

and went on to get my Master’s Degree in Economics.

with some recycled scenery and costumes, and trundle

Then, just as UCD was moving out of its campus at

off to do a full-length play and a few shorts.

“The music of Seán Ó Riada showed there were more ways than one of engaging with the tradition ...” 20

GROWING UP Right: The university graduate with mother Molly. Below: Frances Swift, Lockhart’s future wife.

It was backstage in Athlone during the production of one of Sean’s one-act, one-man plays that he wrote for me that I met Barry, who, along with Don O’Donnell, had been roped in to be a stage manager. Barry first became aware of my existence when he saw Mick Friel and me at a piano working out the chords to some Beatles song, and he joined in. It was our shared passion for Beatles songs that got us together as mates. Barry was doing his Master’s while I was approaching my final exams. I’d never particularly noticed him around college – the clerical students didn’t form part of our social scene. There were lots of them, they wore black, they studied diligently and they didn’t spend half the day in the pub. But as we got to know each other through the drama group, we discovered a lot of shared enthusiasms and increasingly hung around together. I was also working on Campus, the college paper, as production manager, and got to spend a lot of time with the printers. It was letterpress, very old-school, with compositors making the pages up laboriously by hand on the ‘stone’, even doing the headlines letter by letter. That was a real privilege, to be in on the tail end of a living tradition that went right back to Gutenberg. It was around this time that I met Frances Swift, who was also studying at UCD, but tended to frequent Trinity College more. As it happened we didn’t become a proper item for a couple of years. We were married in 1979. The band that later became Horslips was just starting to get going a little while into my research. Paddy Lynch, who was the Professor of Economics, took me aside one day and said, ‘Mr Lockhart, we see you more often on the television these days than we do along the corridors of our department.’ He was right – I didn’t know it, but I was about to run away with the circus.

HORSLIPS • TALL TALES: THE OFFICIAL BIOGRAPHY

Early days for Charles O’Connor, a.k.a. ‘Little Les’, long before facial hair took up residence.

CHARLES LESLIE O’CONNOR SEPTEMBER 7 1948 MIDDLESBROUGH, ENGLAND

My love of music obviously came from my parents, who favoured Noël Coward, Ivor Novello, Al Bowlly and anyone with a good voice. My father was a professional singer, who performed with Harry Lester’s Hayseeds, the comedy hillbilly outfit, while

Like a large proportion of the Middlesbrough popula-

my mother continued to be a very competent pia-

tion, I come from a Catholic family. My father, Charles

nist all her life. We had a piano at home, so I became

Leslie O’Connor, served during the war in the 1st Divi-

naturally attracted to music – it was simply part of

sion of the SAS and was badly injured in Tobruk. He may

family life.

have felt that he wasn’t going to live very long, which is

I was always interested in art and modelmaking, from

possibly why I was given his name, Charles Leslie, Jr., and

as early as infant school. At age five or six, I made card-

was taunted with ‘Little Les’ all through my childhood.

board cars and cranes, and impressed teachers with what

Dad married my mother, Gwendoline Iris [née Pear-

I suppose was quite a mature talent for my years. Mr

son], during the ’thirties and before I came along, they

Bresslaw was the first person who set me on my future

produced a lovely daughter called Maureen, who we

path as a designer. He would take me out of my music

very sadly lost in 2011. Like me, my big sister hated her

class – which I hated – to teach me how to mix flour

name. She was born as Gwendoline, after my Mum, and

and water with poster colour, and make a paste out of it

changed it to Maureen as soon as she could. We grew up

that would resemble oil paint. He was very kind to me,

in Grove Hill, a satellite housing development in Mid-

and realised that I had some imagination for this kind

dlesbrough, built in the 1950s to bring people away from

of thing. He would encourage me to create pictures that

the town centre and into the green belt of Teesside.

got displayed on the corridor walls.

GROWING UP

Schoolboy O’Connor in the 1950s.

Maureen got me my first guitar in 1958. She stole

she wanted me to play. Instead, I’d play a rock’n’roll

it from her boyfriend, and I began to learn some basic

number and she freaked! Formal lessons often had a way

tunes, like Lonnie Donegan’s ‘The Grand Coulee Dam’.

of putting you off this music.

As a kid, I would go to the nearby flea market and buy

I heard rock’n’roll for the first time at Rea’s Ice Cream

old fiddles and banjos, then go home and try to make

& Coffee House on Linthorpe Road in Middlesbrough,

some noise out of them. I also bought a dreadful sec-

owned by Camillo and Gaetano Rea, the Italian father

ond-hand bowl-back mandolin and picked out tunes.

and uncle of rock star Chris Rea and his brother Nik,

I had a vague interest in Irish music, possibly because

who became a touring stage manager. Camillo con-

of a distant family connection and the large Catholic

trolled the wholesale of many ice-cream items in Mid-

population in Middlesbrough, and I liked to find tunes

dlesbrough. His coffee house was the place where the

that weren’t too difficult to play The social clubs seemed

local kids would hang out, other than the cinema if you

to have quite a focus on Irish music, and I’d be dragged

could afford it, and I spent a lot of time there. It was a very elaborate and impressive café, and the

into the singsong. My mother sent me to piano lessons when I was 11.

default place to meet girls. Chris started cleaning tables

My music teacher, Mrs Hutchinson, wore fingerless

there before his teens. They had the big, noisy Gaggia

gloves and gave me a sweet if I was good. I forfeited the

machines that produced exotic, foamy coffee, and there

mint humbug many times by not playing the Chopin

was a log-walled room at the back and a goldfish pond.

“Formal lessons often had a way of putting you off this music ...” 23

HORSLIPS • TALL TALES: THE OFFICIAL BIOGRAPHY

If you paid the extra penny for your coffee, they let you

and smoking a tab. Our principal, Sidney Spedding,

throw things at the fish and listen to the juke box in the

shouted at me: ‘Hey, O’Connor, put that cigarette out!’

corner.

I didn’t like college at all in the beginning, but it was

Just up the road from Rea’s was Fearnley’s record shop. The strains of all the latest sounds would pour out

hip. Eventually I got in with a few friends and began to find my feet.

of Fearnley’s. ‘If You Need Me’ by the Stones [from the

All of the British bands were starting to happen. I was

Five By Five EP] always reminds me of those times, along

very lucky to have been just the right age when The

with the early Dusty Springfield records like ‘Island Of

Who, The Animals and The Pretty Things were break-

Dreams’. I had a thing for Dusty; in fact, I think I fell in

ing through in ’64 and ’65, and they would come to

love with her without realising it. The little short skirt

play at the two clubs in Middlesbrough – the Purple

and the Ronettes-like beehive hairdo she wore were so

Onion, owned by the McCoy family, and The Scene,

cool. There was no one like her.

which was run by my uncle from a basement under-

From 11 to 15, I went to Brackenhoe Technical

neath four council houses. I’d started college without

School on the Prissick School Base in Marton Road,

much of a grant, but I made it stretch and certain gigs

where the pupils were trained to be useful to the coal,

had to be seen.

metal and steel industries in the northeast of England,

The Northern Mod phenomenon had started long

whether they liked it or not. Metalwork was fun, and I

before it was recognised, and there was a definite style

was showing signs of becoming a draughtsman.

you had to follow. For me it would be check

The pencil craft skills I developed taught me a

shirts, gardeners’ jackets, square-toed slip-ons

lot about drawing and, although I didn’t rec-

and tweed trousers, and there were boutiques

ognise it at first, I was showing all the signs

everywhere that catered for these fashions.

of being a worthy art student, which wasn’t

Although I aspired to being a Mod with my

what the teachers at Brackenhoe would have

appearance, I didn’t go the whole way and get

had in mind for me. But my sister was telling me how cool art college would be and it was gradually feeding my imagination.

a scooter. I suppose I was ‘Mod lite’. Clothes were always important to me and still are. My Dad taught me good dress sense and the importance of

It suddenly dawned on me when I was in my last

smart shoes, and my sister was also quite influential, as

year at Brackenhoe that in order to get into art college,

she made her own clothes and was a good ‘barometer’

I needed to get a GCE in Art. So I explained to one of

for coolness. We weren’t a well-off family, but we made

the teachers that this was what I wanted to do, and if I

an effort and it showed.

had to drop a subject – which was Draughtsmanship –

When The Pretty Things played at The Scene, sup-

to make way for me to cram Art, that’s what I’d do. And

ported by the great John Lee Hooker, I was completely

so, after just a month-and-a-half of seriously intensive

mesmerised. I watched through the gaps of fighting

and dreadful work, I not only passed my O Level but

fists and bodies while Phil May screamed out ‘Do you

got a Grade A to boot.

really love me, Rosalyn? Yeah, I gotta know!’ This was

At 16, I arrived at Middlesbrough College of Art

my first real introduction to live gigs, and although I

[later Teesside College of Art], dressed in a green, skin-

was naturally more driven towards traditional music, I

tight Blackwatch suit with a slightly baggy arse in the

think ‘cool’ overcame that for a while and Mod influ-

trousers, a very tailored waist, a shirt with a tiny wing

ences pushed me more in the direction of bands like the

collar and knitted tie, hair backcombed in Mod style

Small Faces.

GROWING UP Teenager O’Connor strikes a chord.

In my late teens, I spent a lot of time dreaming of getting away from Teesside and seeing the bright lights of London. That was where everything was happening – all the pop groups, the artists, the movers and shakers, the fashion gurus and the girls. Middlesbrough was great and so were the people, but I’d seen enough for a while. I needed excitement ... and, boy, what a time to be looking for it. The Animals’ ‘We’ve Gotta Get Out Of This Place’ literally described my situation. The moment I heard that first verse – ‘In this dirty old part of the city / Where the sun refused to shine / People tell me there ain’t no use in trying’ – all these feelings my girlfriend and I had been harbouring suddenly felt valid. It was probably the first record that really spoke to me. I didn’t go to London for some time, but I did get out of ‘that place’ eventually. I began playing mandolin in the Art College Ceilidhe Band. I saw myself as a bit of a musician, but it was more of a pikey vision than a career move.There was one very

aging was something that really motivated me. When I

funny episode when the college’s gay and lesbian society

finally got my SIA qualification in 1970, I was offered

had put up a poster for a ceilidhe, and someone scrawled

a job at the college by my course lecturer, Hans Linder,

across it, ‘There’s nowt as folk as queers’!

but I fancied the idea of getting away.

A better mandolin came my way when I could afford

I applied for as many jobs as I could, including one

one, and I also started to play with the Stockton Blue

with Philips in Holland, one with a furniture design

& Golds Morris team, whose fiddle player, Jack Keane,

company in the North of England, and another with

had a lovely, simple English style. He had an incredible

a Dublin advertising agency called Arks. Philips wrote

knowledge of traditional tunes, and was probably the

to offer an interview, but before that could be arranged,

biggest influence on the musician I became.

Eamonn O’Flaherty, the creative director at Arks, had

I did the Society of Industrial Artists course at col-

seen my work and contacted me to ask if he could meet

lege, but didn’t become a Fellow because the mem-

me while he was staying at the Piccadilly Hotel in Man-

bership fee was too expensive. Instead of taking a Fine

chester.

Art course like my daughter Aphra, I studied Graphics,

Eamonn looked like Clement Freud, while I was like

which involved typography, printmaking and photogra-

a miniature, hairy Georgie Best, and we laughed at each

phy. It set me up as a graphic designer and I amassed a

other when we met. He’d already made up his mind that

very impressive portfolio with which to get a good job.

I could do the job, but just wanted to check me out and

Music was still a hobby. I regarded art as the founda-

ask when I could get over to Dublin and start on £12

tion of my career – the idea of graphic design for pack-

10/- a week. 25

HORSLIPS • TALL TALES: THE OFFICIAL BIOGRAPHY

The Silver Star Band in 1944 with Eamon’s grandfather Johnnie Carr (far right) and uncle Paddy on drums.

EAMON JOHN CARR NOVEMBER 12 1948 KELLS, COUNTY MEATH, IRELAND

lidhe Band. They were active in the 1940s and 1950s, and were top-notch and won various prizes at festivals. Two of my uncles – his sons Paddy Carr and Michael Carr – played with him at various times, as did my Dad. At a very early age, I was presented with an accor-

Joe Carr was my Dad; my mother was Mary, and her

dion, but I couldn’t master it at all. There was actually

maiden name was Ginnity. I was their eldest child, fol-

a drum kit in my grandfather’s house as well, a sort

lowed by my sister Irene and brothers Declan, Nodlaig

of twenties-style kit – a big bass drum with a fantastic

[Noel] and Jude, who surfaced with the Irish punk fan-

painting on it and a wood block and a snare. That held

zine Heat. My Mum died in 1957, and my Dad got

much more allure for me, and it obviously would have

married again to a lady called Joan Brodigan. I have two

been the initial spark.

sisters from that relationship, called Anita and Sinéad.

When I was five or six, I saw the Silver Star Ceilidhe

Kells was a small town, 40 miles from Dublin, with

Band in action at an afternoon tea dance. There was a

a population of a few thousand, but, like much of

real old-school ballroom in Virginia, County Cavan,

County Meath, is very rich in Celtic artefacts, like the

about 12 miles from Kells, called Lough Ramor Farm-

Market Cross of Kells. Newgrange and Tara are both

ers’ Ballroom. One of my earliest clear memories was

in County Meath, and the sacred River Boyne runs

being taken to this adult gig. At some point in the pro-

through the county.

ceedings, I was brought up and seated on the drum kit. I

I was just a child when my paternal grandfather, Johnny Carr, played accordion with his Silver Star Cei26

remember a sea of smiling faces as I was lifted in. This style of music gave me my introduction. My

GROWING UP

Dad got his own ‘old time’ band together, called the Round Tower Ceilidhe Band, which got shortened to the Round Tower. They were more of a dance band, with piano and a saxophone. I grew up as a child with my Mum in the house and her girlfriends, who were good fun. In the evenings, my Dad would be off with the band, and he and the musicians would come back after gigs. It was exciting and fun. We were the third family in the town to have a TV, and all my mates came back to the house to watch kids’ programmes – sports and things like ‘Boy Meets Girls’ and ‘Six-Five Special’ with its house band Don Lang and the Frantic Five. Suddenly you were exposed to all this rock’n’roll stuff. You weren’t just hearing it on Radio Luxembourg – you were actually seeing these guys: Billy Fury, Adam Faith, Joe Brown. I used to think Joe was God, and Adam Faith had an amazing persona. I didn’t look at the drummers. With Adam, you felt that he was human, whereas Billy Fury was sort of raw and superhuman. Elvis was so exotic that he just didn’t register with me. My mother was a huge Buddy Holly fan, and his songs are the only ones I can remember her singing. She had four brothers, one of whom was Noel Ginnity, an Irish comedian who, in the ’60s, was part of the Irish ballad boom. He was a member of the Ramblers Three, with Johnny McEvoy and Mick Bonner. They toured with The Dubliners, part of that gang. Luke Kelly was best man at his wedding. Oddly enough, it was Noel who introduced me to what I would have considered hardcore traditional music at that point. I was hearing the Chieftains and Seán Ó Riada’s music through Noel. I spent a lot of time in hospital as a kid. I was in the sanitarium for six months and in another hospital for three months. I had severe bronchiectasis; it was a neardeath business back in 1956. Even then, you had hospital radio, so you’re hearing everything that’s going on, like Lonnie Donegan and other skiffle bands. I tapped along

From top: Eamon Carr, schoolboy and dog lover; a school play cast photo with Carr (back row, left) and future band colleague John Olohan (front row, far right); Toneage live in 1966.

to those sort of things, so I thought that once I got out 27

HORSLIPS • TALL TALES: THE OFFICIAL BIOGRAPHY

of hospital and back to school, I might try to muscle

names. You felt you could do this, as they all seemed

into the school flageolet band at the CBS in Kells, and

so personable and funny, sharp and witty, like normal

get the little uniform. I wanted to be a drummer.

people. Like us.

A guy who had played the bass drum in the school

The phenomenon of the showbands that developed

band took me under his wing and showed me what

in the late 1950s fulfilled a function, in that they were

you had to do: keep the beat! So I did that, and gradu-

a gigantic jukebox. They played all sorts – not just the

ated to the snare and kettle drum. But I still had to sit

charts, but waltz music, foxtrots and whatever else was in

through all the music classes with the 30 flageolet play-

demand. I don’t think the rock’n’roll thing really kicked

ers. I knew the tunes, and some of them even wound up

off in Ireland until the Beat Boom. Suddenly, you had

in the Horslips repertoire: ‘King Of The Fairies’ is the

beat clubs opening up in the major cities and young

classic example. I was already kickin’ ass on that tune in

people started forming beat or R&B groups.

1958 with the CBS band!

Some of the clubs just had DJs playing the latest hits,

Between the ages of about 13 and 17, I went to St

but in a few clubs, bands started to form. An important

Finian’s College, an all-boys boarding school in the

group was the Greenbeats. The name sounds naff, but

Diocese of Meath. In hindsight, apart from playing

the main guy was John Keogh, a great piano player who

Gaelic football every day, which helped toughen me up,

became a television producer with RTÉ.

its big advantage was a good grounding in both Latin and Greek.

We finally got it together around 1965–66 and called ourselves Toneage. The bass player was Gene

Radios and TV sets were banned there, but a friend

Mulvaney, who crops up later in the Horslips story.

lent me his crystal set. Late one night, while I was in my

We were practising, hanging out and playing in John

room, on came Howlin’ Wolf ’s ‘Smokestack Lightning’

Olohan’s front room.Then we decided to do a gig.We

– probably the weirdest-sounding music I’d ever heard.

said, ‘But how are we going to amplify the piano?’ So

The effect was doubled by the foggy landscape I was

we rang John Keogh.

seeing outside my dorm window, like an eerie movie

John’s aunt lived in Blackrock on the same road as

scene playing out in front of me. Hubert Sumlin’s guitar

Keogh, and they knew each other. So we rang his house.

playing on this was absolutely seminal, and it continues

This guy’s on TV – I can’t believe we’re ringing him.

to influence musicians today.

John was really personable and helpful. He advised us to

‘Love Me Do’ was the catalyst for so many musical

get an old skull microphone, lift the lid, dangle it down

careers, and I was certainly one of its victims, just as

into the piano, close the lid, turn up the amp and hit the

Barry and Jim were. It was late one night on Radio

piano keys. So that’s what we did.

Luxembourg that I heard this echoey harmonica and

We played a pile of gigs around County Meath, and

thought it sounded amazing. I used to get the NME,

it was a lot of fun. We would get paid, and a gang of

and there was a little ad in the back for this single by a

people our own age would follow us. It felt like being

band called the Beatles. When ‘Please Please Me’ came

in a beat group.

out, everything clicked. It was astonishing ... and accessi-

The general feeling was that groups were hip and show-

ble. And they were from Liverpool, with Irish-sounding

bands were not. Although it wasn’t creatively challenging,

“The general feeling was that groups were hip and showbands were not ...” 28

GROWING UP

Carr and John Olohan on O’Connell Bridge, circa 1964; Toneage (Olohan, Gene Mulvaney, Carr & Joe Rourke).

a lot of the showband musicians were brilliant players and

Robinson, who was a sort of a roadie, man-about-club

good singers, but they would learn the charts note by note,

type in Dublin, years before he set up Stiff Records.

and just go and do it. As it happens, a lot of the beat groups

I didn’t see too many bands from America and Eng-

were doing exactly the same thing. They weren’t writing

land. If they didn’t play the old Adelphi Cinema or the

their own material, just doing R&B covers and covers of

Caroline Club in Dún Laoghaire, where I saw The Ani-

English or Scottish beat groups.

mals, they tended to be brought on to the showband cir-

Toneage’s set list was filled with numbers by Chuck

cuit. If you wanted to catch The Tremeloes, you’d have

Berry, John Lee Hooker, Jimmy Reed, Bo Diddley, The

to endure an hour-and-a-half showband set before they

Shirelles and The Animals. You’d turn their singles over

came on for their 30 minutes. It began to change at the

and find out what was on the B-sides, do those songs

end of the 1960s, when promoters put bands on in the

and people thought it was cool. It was a hipper scene.

National Boxing Stadium in Dublin. Led Zeppelin, The

As things began to develop, bands began to write their own material, and a few of them began to get

Nice, Jethro Tull and Fleetwood Mac were the kind of acts coming in, but not necessarily selling 2,000 seats.

records released. In Cork you had Rory Gallagher and

Toneage actually did some really big gigs, especially

Taste, while Belfast obviously had Van Morrison and

in Navan. More memorable ones were at the CYMS

Them, who occasionally played in Dublin. There were

Hall and the Rugby Club, as well as Vincent’s Hall in

a lot of other very good, interesting bands. Those who

Kells and The Scene club in Dublin, which was a big

did get signed had one single or album out and then

deal for us. We were just into staging events for the sheer

disappeared. These were bands such as Ditch Cassidy

hell of it, so we roped in a couple of Dublin bands that

and the News, Granny’s Intentions and The People, who

we knew and said, ‘Let’s put on a package tour. A big

featured Henry McCullough and later changed their

beat festival.’ A few thousand people turned up and, at

name to Eire Apparent. We once supported The People.

the time, we weren’t prepared for it. And neither was the

Our guitar amp started giving trouble and the guy who

so-called box office. Everything was crazy, like ‘Hey, this

hopped up from the front of the stage to fix it was Dave

is rock’n’roll!’ 29

HORSLIPS • TALL TALES: THE OFFICIAL BIOGRAPHY

We managed to do some recording with Colum

really positive. ‘Yeah, you’ve got to keep doing this, why

Fitzsimons, a local businessman and DJ from Kells who

don’t you read a bit in public?’ he advised. Roger later

was a bit of a sound geek and had built his own studio

attended at least one Horslips gig which he enjoyed.

at home. The tracks we did weren’t bad, but the tapes sadly went missing.

There was something in the air – all these guys were scribbling bits and pieces of notes and poems, people

Toneage continued for a while, with Pat Dunne

wanted to be painters. So we’d get together on Saturdays

replacing the outgoing guitarist Joe Rourke, but things

in a hotel in Navan and just start reading poetry and

were becoming fractured. The other guys had fallen

arguing about philosophy and music.

under the spell of more acoustic-based music like

Out of that, we organised a couple of poetry readings

Simon & Garfunkel and The Mamas & The Papas, and

in Navan under the heading ‘The Meath Poetry Group’,

I was being seriously distracted with my new alt-scene

and we published a couple of little magazines. BP Fallon, who I knew, told me that his brother

discoveries. I took to going to Liver-

Peter was writing poetry and asked

pool on the old cattle boat.

if I’d take him to the readings. Sud-

It went from the North

denly it was a scene!

Wall and the cattle were

Peter was a lot more serious

downstairs, with the passen-

about it, and we agreed to move

gers upstairs. We were sail-

it all to Dublin. We began a poetry

ing on real old rust buckets

workshop in Parnell Square once

and some of us who were

a fortnight, and loads of people

on deck, we thought we

would turn up and sit around. A

were fuckin’ Jack Kerouac!

very nervous Philip Lynott dropped

I mostly went on my own,

in to read occasionally.

just checking it out, to see

I’d already published wee things

what was happening, and

with the poetry group, so I said, ‘I

had actually made my first

think we should try and publish

visits around 1965. The first

a magazine.’ So we edited a thing

port of call was the old Cavern Club, as it was.

called Capella. We took poems from a lot of people who

People were really friendly. Women that you would

turned up and we tried to sift out what would work

meet would be intrigued that you were Irish and had

and what wouldn’t. We also issued a broadsheet called

come over. Then they’d discover that you had nowhere

The Book Of Invasions [above] – pre-dating the Horslips

to stay and you had hardly any money anyway. They

album by about seven years. We put that out to bridge

were really cool and always found you some food and

gaps between issues of Capella.

places to bunk down for the night. They were brilliant.

We had everybody in it – even stuff by Marc Bolan.

When I started going back regularly around 1967,

Jim Fitzpatrick did all the artwork and, of course, Jim

I met some people like Roger McGough and Adrian

went on to do some great work for Thin Lizzy’s album

Henri, who were reading poetry in pubs. This was a

sleeves.

serious eye-opener. I would get to crash at 64 Canning

I told Peter that I knew a fair-haired guitarist called

Street, and I recall sidling up to McGough and asking

David Costello. David was trying things out with our

if he’d mind having a look at stuff I’d written. He was

poetry and then we added a second guitarist, Paul

GROWING UP Tara Telephone in early 1970. L–R: Peter Fallon, Lucienne Purcell, Bernie Barrett, Andrew Robinson, Declan Sinnott and Eamon Carr.

Kennan. I’d get the bongos out and it all evolved from there. We needed a name for the poetry readings, and that became Tara Telephone. We started appearing on TV and radio, and although I didn’t have a long-term vision for any of this, we worked quite hard at it over a couple of years. An active involvement in blues music started for me towards the end of the sixties and during Tara Telephone’s embryonic period, I also began playing with another band, Empire State Express. I’d become a member of the Dublin Blues Appreciation Society, which had been established in 1969 by Larry Roddy, with regular sessions at Slattery’s in Capel Street. It was a great thing to be a part of if you wanted to hear music that wasn’t on the radio. People would play records by Blind Willie Johnson and then deliver lectures about them. An English guy called Pat Martin came to play Big Bill Broonzy songs and he was joined by Shay Fogerty on harmonica the following week. Another musician who impressed everyone was Brian Fry, who’d been playing on the jazz circuit. He brought with him Red Peters, a legend of the Dublin blues scene, who had a magnifi-

Blues Festival in Dublin’s Mansion House alongside

cent blues voice that made the room shake. Over the

Blueshouse, a fantastic outfit with Ed Deane on guitar

next few weeks, they started to play as one unit and,

and Dermot Stokes [brother of Hot Press founder Niall]

after mentioning that I had a washboard, I was invited

on piano, who ended up being the house band at the

into the fold.

Appreciation Society’s sessions. Gary Moore sat in with

Very soon, this thing suddenly gained legs. It became

them occasionally, and it was such a thrilling vibe.

Red’s vehicle, and he gave us the name Empire State

I played with the Empire State Express on the side for

Express. It was like a jug band. We did some interest-

about nine months whilst progressing Tara Telephone,

ing gigs, including playing support to Champion Jack

which extended its line-up and began doing even more

Dupree and performing at the one-day North-South

live appearances as the ’seventies got underway.

HORSLIPS • TALL TALES: THE OFFICIAL BIOGRAPHY

The wee Johnny Fean.

JOHN MARTIN FEAN NOVEMBER 17 1951 DUBLIN, IRELAND

Limerick, as part of a large family, while my mother came from Claremorris. Her Dad, Dan, came from Scottish ancestry in Donegal and worked for the Great Southern Railway as an engine driver. After being stationed for a number of years in Claremorris, he and the

Although I would never class myself as a Dubliner, I was,

family moved to Limerick.

in fact, born in Dublin due to unforeseen circumstances.

My parents met in Limerick – at the time, my

My mother, Maureen [neé Murray], had some compli-

mother was a waitress at the Savoy restaurant in Lim-

cations with her pregnancy and it was decided that the

erick City. Dad was working at Shannon Airport as an

Rotunda Hospital in Dublin would be better equipped

oil tanker driver for Esso, helping with the refuelling

for her labour than the local hospital in Limerick, where

of aeroplanes.

our family was based. So she went off to stay with her

I was the first of six children. Donal followed when I

aunts in Dublin a month before I was born, and returned

was about three, around the time we moved to a ground-

a few weeks afterwards to our small bedsit flat in Upper

floor flat in nearby Henry Street, and the family gradu-

Mallow Street, close to the People’s Park in Limerick.

ally expanded with the arrival of Seamus, or ‘Shearie’ as

My Dad, Jim, grew up on a farm near Bruree, County 32

he’s known, then Gail, Ray and, finally, Corna in 1966.

GROWING UP

The Fean family in 1966. L–R: Gail, Johnny, Donal, baby Corna, Maureen, Jim, Ray and Shearie.

Our flat in Henry Street was just 100 yards along from

downhill in the direction of the River Shannon. As it

the flour mill owned by Ivan and Mildred Harris, whose

gathered speed, Richard Harris was walking up the hill

nine children included Richard Harris, later to become

towards me, but because I was so small, what he saw was

a famous actor and the voice of ‘MacArthur Park’.

a moving car without a driver. He sprinted into action.

Being the oldest, I was usually the ringleader when

He quickly jumped into the car, jammed on the hand-

we played games together, and always the protective

brake and saved me from disaster. Richard frogmarched

one if there were ever any skirmishes. I seemed to be

me up to my front door and told my mother what had

attracted to mischief and danger, and my fascination

just happened. I think there may have been a few tears

with cars nearly got me into a lot of trouble.

shed that evening.

There was a local insurance salesman doing his

Ireland was way behind the rest of Europe when it

house-to-house collecting round one evening, and he

came to television. Telefís Éireann didn’t start broadcast-

parked his car on a hill on the corner that led down

ing until December 1961, so the only entertainment we

to the docks, but left his car door open. I must have

had at home was the radio, which was often pretty dull,

seen this as an invitation, because as soon as I saw him

or the Pye radiogram, which had a rich, bassy sound.

go into a house, I jumped into the driver’s seat and

There was always a big pile of 78s in our house, because

released the handbrake. The car very gradually moved

Dad was a huge jazz fan. 33

HORSLIPS • TALL TALES: THE OFFICIAL BIOGRAPHY

Dad particularly loved Louis Armstrong, Nat ‘King’

hard back in those days and the guy was a bit down on

Cole and Dean Martin. He had quite an advantage over

his luck. A few months passed, however, and my Dad

other music lovers in the neighbourhood, because he

hadn’t seen him or had the money repaid. One day,

got to know a lot of the American pilots, and often

while Dad was working at his job in Shannon Airport,

asked them to bring over the latest jazz 78s from the

he was surprised to see this guy returning from Spain

States that you couldn’t get anywhere in Ireland.

with a nylon-string Spanish guitar that he’d acquired.

When Dad was at work, Mum used to play those

He and my Dad met and chatted for a while, and during

records and sing along with them while I was in my

their conversation Dad suggested that if he wanted to

pram, so they formed the soundtrack to my very early

write off the debt, he could do so by giving him this

life. Later on, my Dad bought me the first record I ever

guitar instead. I now had my first guitar, and that was the

owned – ‘Mary’s Boy Child’ by Harry Belafonte.

beginning of everything.

We moved to Garryowen in Limerick City in 1957.

In 1961, we moved to Shannon. A lot of American

We were only there a few months before I heard

families were also living there and working at the air-

‘Heartbreak Hotel’ for the first time. Elvis Presley made

port, or the associated support companies on the new

such an impact on our household with that song, and

Shannon Free Zone industrial estate. It was pretty excit-

I would hear my Dad humming it around the house

ing to suddenly find myself in the company of people

for weeks afterwards. It’s difficult to express to young

from America, Europe and Australia who had come over

people today just how exciting that was, because it

to start a new life.

came out of nowhere, as if there had been nothing until

For some unexplained reason, my first guitar was left behind when we moved to Shannon and I didn’t play

that moment. But it was when ‘Jailhouse Rock’ started to get air-

for about a year. But, for Christmas in 1962, my Mum

play towards the end of 1957 that my ears really opened

paid about £3 10/- for a crude steel-string guitar. This

up, because I immediately focused in on Scotty Moore’s

time I really got stuck into it. One of the first tunes I

guitar playing. It was the greatest sound I’d ever heard,

learned to play quite well was ‘Diamonds’ by Jet Harris

and that was when my lifelong interest in the instru-

and Tony Meehan. I was completely self-taught, and the

ment really began. Hearing Little Richard’s ‘Lucille’ for

thing is that a bad guitar makes you work harder, and I

the first time was similarly devastating.

guess that if it had been a better instrument I might not

From that point on, I’d tune in to Luxembourg in

have developed in the same way.

the evenings, and whenever a new record came over the

For a while, it seemed as if the music I loved, the

airwaves, I homed in on the guitars and kind of dissected

wilder rock’n’roll, had gone into limbo. Cliff Richard

the sounds in my head. It was only going to be a matter

was having a stab at being the British Elvis, but he wasn’t

of time before I took up the guitar and, sure enough,

too convincing. But The Shadows were influential.

my Dad came home one day in 1958 with a wonderful present under his arm. Dad knew a guitar player from Limerick in the ’fifties, and had loaned him some money, because times were

The sound and tone that Hank Marvin achieved on ‘Apache’ and ‘Wonderful Land’ was absolutely unique. His Fender Stratocaster looked like something that had fallen off an alien spacecraft.

“I now had my first guitar, and that was the beginning of everything ...” 34