“May the angels bright watch you tonight
And keep you while you sleep”– Lullaby of London
The world has lost one of the greatest songwriters of a generation. The lyrical genius of Shane MacGowan was our voice- the voice of the Irish diaspora. He fertilized the fractured space between England and Ireland and grew a lush green field of ‘songs and stories’ to nourish our souls and sense of identity. It’s still there as part of our psyche and that of the next generation- a thriving living being in its own right and so many of us wouldn’t be us without The Pogues and lyrics of MacGowan and Chevron. He expressed our communal humanity, bridging the gap between generations and countries in his own authentic way.
He took those cracks and ‘Let the light in’ making a beautiful mosaic from the broken pieces of the immigrant and diaspora experience. One that we can all see our reflections in to this day.
He gave us an identity and confidence in ourselves at a time when being ‘Irish in the wrong place and at the wrong time’ was something that could put you in jeopardy. He blended and wove the grit of London with the swing and romance of Irish mythology and balladry and created something beautiful in its own right. He was a lyrical Seanchaí telling tales of the dispossessed and slaughtered; of those without a voice. From the darkest earth springs the most beautiful ‘Red Roses for Me‘ to quote their debut album.
Nick Cave described Shane as a “Beautiful and damaged man who embodied a kind of purity and innocence and generosity and spiritual intelligence unlike any other.” U2 tweeted, “Mac Gowan’s songs were perfect so him and his fans didn’t have to be” while Irish Band Missing the Ferry said, “Shane was a visionary and poet without whom our band and countless others wouldn’t have existed. He gave pride and courage to second generation Irish at a time when being Irish was far from cool or easy.”
He was our Shakespeare our Joyce our Behan. In dark romantic form he passed away on 30th November; the same day as Oscar Wilde, another tortured genius and displaced wordsmith.
Many great artists have never followed the rules of society and that’s what makes them trailblazers. Even Queen Victoria feared them saying, “Beware of artists. They mix with all classes of society and are therefore most dangerous.” Shane, in the ‘Crock of Gold” documentary said that he used to hang out in the park drinking with the homeless and dispossessed. Many lost souls like this ended up in songs like ‘The Old Main Drag,’ something that he could empathise with too.
It is no surprise that many of the greatest Irish Writers created some of their best work whilst living away from their native land. It gave them a telescopic view of their home, seeing it from both sides. Joyce wrote Ulysses in Zurich, Trieste and Paris and Yeats wrote ‘Lake Isle of Innisfree’ while he lived in London. Yeats remembered longing for the ‘Lake Isle of Innisfree‘ while MacGowan longed for ‘The Broad Majestic Shannon,’ not that he was a fan of Yeats.
Shane was more influenced by Joyce and Brendan Behan and his lyrics had all the same grit and emotional range. An Anglicised version of póg mo thóin (Pogue Mahone) meaning ‘kiss my arse’ can even be found in the Aeolus episode of James Joyce’s Ulysses showing that even those artists that we now laud still had a gritty and mischievous side. Shane even played a part in Brendan Behan’s picture being featured in the NME.
Although ‘born here in this land’ his heart and soul were always in Ireland. While criticised in the early days, Shane pledged his life to Ireland from ‘Beyond the Waves’ His squat pen resting ‘Snug as a Gun’ to quote Seamus Heaney– Digging into the past with the pen and the voice rather than a weapon.
He gained a Lifetime Achievement Award from the President of Ireland on his 60th Birthday and after his death President and poet Michael D Higgins said,
“Shane will be remembered as one of music’s greatest lyricists. So many of his songs would be perfectly crafted poems, if that would not have deprived us of the opportunity to hear him sing them.” It is wonderful to see this rightfully happening because in the early days it wasn’t the case.
On The Late Late Show, the band were told, “You’re playing up the Drunken Paddy Images….You’re sort of bringing Irish music into disrepute.”
If anything, Shane and The Pogues were moving things forward and have in influenced everyone from Fontaines DC to Lisa O’Neill, Neck to The Mary Wallopers, Dropkick Murphys to Missing the Ferry.
It was a natural progression for The Pogues to fuse punk with their sound. London and towns and cities across the world were a hotbed of Irish trad music for the diaspora. The pubs and clubs in Camden, Cricklewood, Hammersmith and Kilburn to name a few were rich with sessions. The various Irish music regional styles as noted by Seán ÓRiada melded and cross- pollinated in the pubs on a weekly basis. The polkas of Sliabh Luachra blended the ornamentation of Sligo and dexterity of Donegal bowers. At home this intensive meeting of regional styles were more likely to happen at the less frequent Fleadh Cheoils.
Fusing outside genres into Irish trad wasn’t such a wild idea. Johnny Moynihan introduced Greek trichord bouzouki into Irish music in the 60s. It was played in De Dannan, Andy Irvine and Donal Lunny and is now a mainstay. Equally, The Horseslips were celebrated as ‘founding fathers’ of Celtic Rock, while Thin Lizzy‘s Whiskey in the Jar is sheer perfection so The Pogues fusing Irish trad with the grit of punk was a natural step forward.
The thing that Shane did differently was juxtapose the soul and musical tropes of Irish balladry with the lyrics of London, Forlorn love letters to the city and even to the immigrant experience in The US with ‘Fairytale of New York’ and ‘Body of an American.’ It aligned with our souls and lived experience in the diaspora. He placed the soul of Irish ballads, love songs and waltzes and placed it within Soho, Camden and White City. ‘Lullaby of London’, ‘London You’re a Lady’ ,’Dark Streets of London ‘ and ‘Rainy Night in Soho’ were all beautiful gritty fragile reflections for those who lived away from home or lived in a deeply Irish households. The diaspora often carried their rural souls into urban spaces and he personified that displacement perfectly.
He was our everything, juxtaposing the romance and melancholy of Irish trad with the grit and industrial energy of living in London or any big city. We had no idea what it was like to grow up in an English household. Like so many immigrants, the Irish abroad have to fight to keep their culture alive. There was nothing fake about it. He reflected the rural souls of our Irish homelives and lived experience of living in the Metropolis.
Camden was a hub for both the Irish and the punk scene. There were so many Irish sessions in Camden Town, The Camden Irish Centre and Rowton house was where many like Brendan and Dominic Behan stayed in the early days. Camden Town Station was where the Irish lads/navvies would wait to be picked up (by my dad) outside the station to get a ‘start’ digging the roads with Murphy’s or Mc Alpines as well as outside the Crown in Cricklewood. The Irish scene already existed in London it was rich with dancehalls like The Galtymore and The Gresham featuring showbands like Big Tom and the Mainliners. Then, as the Showbands faded, their clubs became indie and rock night clubs for the patron’s kids. The Buffalo Irish club in Camden became The Electric Ballroom where The Murder Capital recently played and the Thatch in Highbury Corner became the Garage where Dinasaur Jnr played and Dublin trad/metal band The Scratch will be playing in February.
The Irish and punk scene were always intertwined. The Irish mammies that I knew in North London loved Johnny Rotten because he used to be an altar boy at St Mellitus church near Finsbury Park and of course we all know that the picture in front of the The Clash‘s debut album was taken outside their Rehearsal Rehearsals studios in Camden by Stables market. Shane himself was a big influence on the punk scene calling himself Shane O’Hooligan before The Pogues having been in the Nips/ Nipple Erectors band and even being pictured with a bloodied ear under the Headline ‘Cannibalism at a Clash’ gig although the cut had been caused by a bottle.
Although the punk spirit remained, the Pogues were impeccably presented in suits like the Irish Showbands before them. In The Face magazine interview in 1988 Shane says, “My role in the renaissance of the suit as fashion accessory has been completely ignored…We were wearing suits before Spandau Ballet- they were still in Kilts. The Pogues wore classic suits from the word go but then everyone copied us so we had to switch back to jeans.” You only have to look at the front of the If I Should Fall from Grace with God album to see how impeccable they were and Joe Strummer spoke of the skill and tightness of the band both as individuals and a group.
Shane MacGowan’s lyrics articulated the human condition in a way that only the greatest of writers and can. It is often said that words create our thought patterns. He gave us the words to articulate our confused London Irish identity.
Brendan Behan said, “Shakespeare said pretty well everything and what he left out, James Joyce, with a judge from meself, put in.”
MacGowan was our Shakespeare, getting to the root and grit of the human condition with all its darkness and hope. Kae Tempest said, of Shakespeare, “His legacy exists in everything he’s written/And me, I see him everywhere/He’s my Shakespeare” and MacGowan is ours. He created our sense of identity which is probably why it’s hit us all so hard.
My love of The Pogues started very young watching their ‘Live at The Town and Country Club‘ show on VHS religiously until I was old enough to go to a gig. I even got given a life sized cardboard cut out of The Pogues from the window of Our Price as a confirmation present. The first time I ever saw them is imprinted in my memory forever. I was thirteen and won the tickets for the Fleadh in Finsbury Park on a radio station. My mum took me and, as I was short, she got me right to the front of The Pogues set squashed against those barriers at the front singing along to every word was one of the best moments of my life; a moment of euphoria that I have been trying to recreate at every gig since. Raising our voices with thousands of others, singing as one was pure catharsis.
We had always played traditional Irish music growing up and still do, but back then it was never seen as cool. They made it cool, edgy and fierce, fusing the trad music with the industrial punk vibes of London. It was raw, visceral beautiful and transcendental and, in a world where members of the Irish diaspora had to keep our heads down and voices low, it it was pure catharsis for a shy convent girl, squashed against the barrier, screaming the lyrics at the top of my lungs I felt like I had finally found my voice. I knew that others felt the same. The joy of feeling of part of something, feeling a sense of religious belonging was a revelation. I knew it wasn’t exactly my mum’s thing; she was more into Brendan Shine, but it was one of the greatest gifts she ever gave me; introducing me to live music and keeping me safe in that mosh pit. I have stood in exactly the same spot at the front of the barrier at every gig since. She passed away two and half years after that Fleadh so that day is imprinted in my memory forever
Every year after that I went back to the Fleadhs seeing Shane MacGowan sing with The Popes and singing ‘Jack’s Heroes‘ and ‘The Irish Rover’ with The Dubliners in the Mean Fiddler tent. We saw Joe Strummer singing with The Pogues and their shows at Brixton Academy at Christmas every year became annual pilgrimage for us all. We saw Shane solo too and it was always a blast.
As I got older, the mosh pit became wild and feral, but it was pure catharsis. There would be drinks flying arms and legs flaying, sweat sticking the hair to everyone’s heads, but there was no harm meant by anyone in that pit, even if you got a Doc Marten flying past your ear it was all a beautiful frenzy of release. Every gig was like a religious speaking in tongues service. It was crazy, wild, exhilarating unpredictable and a full exploration of the gamut of human emotion; from the dark to the most romantic of songs. Even the toughest of people would melt in those mosh pits singing along to every track like they were at church. The lyrical melancholy, grit, beauty and longing touched a part of many of us that just couldn’t be articulated. Generating that energy from the stage from the tight musicians was always like a cleansing Shamanic ceremony. It was often the SONGS themselves created by this poet that held their own even when the voice couldn’t and it is was those songs that will stand the test of time.
Of course, Shane would sometimes stumble and forget the words, but the love for the man and the communal power of the songs themselves always enabled the hundreds and thousands strong crowd to sing the songs back to MacGowan on the stage and carry him through to the end of each song even if he was struggling. It was like he had given us all the gift of the song and we were giving it back to him – the audience and band as one, carrying him to the end.
There was always love at those gigs, even if it was a frenzied one. There was beauty in the gritty fragility. We, the audience, were like ants in the audience carrying the flawed fragile titan, MacGowan, to the end of the track in one piece reminding him of every lyric that he had given us.
Shane told Bobbie Gillespie that in one year he did over three hundred gigs which would have been WAY too much for anyone and it often felt like he was being pushed to perform. He would sometimes be hours late, but within three songs he always had the audience in the palm of his hand.
We have seen him so many times over the decades and his words have become part of our lexis. It was a beautiful time. The tide was changing. Jack’s Heroes were putting the Boys in Green on the Map in the 1990 and 1994 World Cups. Both Shane MacGowan and Jack Charleton did more for us than they will ever know, Roddy Doyle won the Booker Prize and we could start to raise our voices. We were between those two cultures. The grit of punk and romance of the Irish ballad and he personified and soundtracked it all. Parents who never wanted to leave Ireland in the first place and were greeted with ‘No Dogs No Blacks No Irish’ when they arrived had to fight to keep the culture alive in their kids. The Pogues personified that beauty and fire in their belly that they had passed down. It’s no surprise that bands The Smiths and Oasis are part of the Irish diaspora too. That need for self expression and poetry is inherent.
As Shane said “In London we were nothing. I wanted to show them that we were something….You are gonna be more f*cked up if you live in London rather than if you live in a cottage in Tipperary.” The London Irish identity is distinct. The amazing late Phil Chevron, fellow Pogue who wrote ‘Thousands are Sailing’ and ‘Lorelai’ said, “The Pogues could never have happened in Ireland,” but the beauty of The Pogues is that they created something wholly thriving and individual- The voice of the diaspora.
Nobel Prize for Literature winner Bob Dylan, who also appeared at the Fleadhs in Finsbury Park due to his Clancy Brother influence, used his voice to spread stories of miscarriages of justice like that of ‘The Hurricane,’ using the oral tradition to tell a story like balladeers and Irish troubadours had done for years. Similarly, The Pogues sang ‘Streets of Sorrow/ Birmingham Six‘ to use their power for good despite it being banned at the time.
MacGowan’s lyrics were not only there for the Irish diaspora. Whilst travelling, they also picked up jazz influences as seen in the opening bars of ‘Metropolitan.’ In one of my personal Pogues treasures, The Face Magazine from 1988 where MacGowan adorns the cover in cool sunglasses and a smoking cigarette looking like an avant-garde French artist, Shane says, “We go to lots of different restaurants and hear lots of different music. All my non-working life I’m in a restaurant.” I can hear those Greek and Turkish influences in ‘Hell’s Ditch,’ and ‘Turkish Song of the Damned ‘ not to mention the Spanish lyrics and influence in ‘Fiesta; mentioning Elvis Costello and former awesome Pogues bassist Cait O Riordan.
Many of us from the Irish diaspora will have been aware of the late night Sheebeens; the hidden bars at the back of some of the kebab shops of North London, where some of The Pogues could often be seen after hours. When the pubs and clubs were closed you could go to these bars and restaurants for a drink. It’s beautiful to see this seeping into the songs, because this is our authentic, London Irish experience; an Irish bar followed by a bar at the back of a Kebab shop when the pubs closed with all those cultures melding into one. These multicultural Sheebeens, like Prohibition, often had the likes of Seamus Moore or someone singing ‘Red Rose Café’ through the smoke. They could often be seen relaxing in Filthy Mc Nasty’s pub too, but we never spoke to them as we were too in awe.
MacGowan said that songs were in the air that’s why you called them an air and if he didn’t grab them then someone else like Paul Simon would. There’s a great wisdom in that witty sentiment. You can feel the influence of these spaces in the songs.
There was a great comraderies between the marginalised cultures of London, infact it was the West Indian MP Bernie Grant who opened the Irish Centre in Tottenham singing the Irish song ‘Four Green Fields‘ on the opening night to the joy of everyone there- a centre which has since sadly closed.
MacGowan gave us a sense of identity and expressed our communal humanity, bridging the gap between generations and countries in his own authentic way, giving a voice to the diaspora when they needed it most As President of Ireland, Michael D Higgins said,
“His words have connected Irish people all over the globe to their culture and history, encompassing so many human emotions in the most poetic of ways.”
We are so grateful for Shane’s life, words and music. His lyrics gave solace to so many of us. His work is full of poetry and pathos, grit and beauty. As Bruce Springsteen said “His music is timeless and eternal. I don’t know about the rest of us, but they’ll be singing Shane’s songs 100 years from now.” We wish sincere condolences, love and strength to his loving wife, sister, father, the Pogues family and all who knew him. Go raibh maith agat. Sleep easy Shane.
As Shane’s amazing wife Victoria said,” If you get to meet your soulmate please do let love in even if you have to suffer loss.” Amen.
