steve wrote:Hi Philip, there's a very grainy video clip on youtube of you and the radiators performing faithful departed on the late late show in the early 1980s.
I just wanted to ask you about the origins of the song. It is a polemic against the church's influence or there some other meaning? I'm asking because it's easily one of the best songs to come out of ireland over the past 25 years or so. i have to say i think it's one of the few cover versions christy moore does that actually does justice to the song. do you have any opinions on his version versus yours? and did the pogues ever think about doing their version? best stephen
I try not to write polemics as, God knows, writing songs is hard enough. The album
Ghostown on which "Faithful Departed" first appeared was structured as a sort of midnight walk through Dublin by a contemporary Irish teenager (I was 17 when I started writing
Ghostown and I turned 21 during its recording). The premise is a direct steal, albeit reversed, from Denis Johnson's 1928 play
The Old Lady Says "No" in which the character of an actor playing Robert Emmet in a historical pageant suffers a blow to the head and imagines himself wandering in 20th Century Dublin. It tickled me that the phrase "The Old Lady Says No" scribbled on Johnston's manuscript when the Abbey returned it to him along with a polite rejection note, was apparently what passed for an internal memo at the Abbey. The "Old Lady" was Augusta Gregory and Johnson duly retitled his play with the rejection. The Abbey has continued to reject some of the greatest Irish plays of the 20th and early 21st century. It is almost an honourable tradition now. A revival of
The Old Lady Says "No" was playing at the Gate Theatre, in the same building as the Rotunda maternity hospital in Dublin when I was born there in 1957. But I digress.
In the grey, post-DeValera Ireland of the Seventies, both the nationalist dream and the romantic literary aspirations have turned to shit, or at least to alcoholism and hypocrisy. Dublin is the capital of a post-imperial failed state. In this context, the kid (Johnny Jukebox) finds solace and inspiration in the ghosts of Dublin's past who accompany him on his midnight walks, the poets, patriots, priests, panhandlers and prostitutes of a Dublin which once dreamed of greatness. Johnny considers these characters to be more vibrant, more full of life, than the dull and authoritarian and punitive church/state consensus will allow in contemporary Ireland.
Some of this is felt as part of the punk rebellion that was in the air in Britain and the United States and which grew out of glam rock in the early 70s, when it suddenly appeared only slightly less possible to be Ziggy in Dublin than it did in London or the Bowery. Some of it is just a natural Irish refusal to conform to the mediocrity for which one appeared to be destined. I felt strongly that this Ireland, my Ireland, was in danger of settling for a great deal less than the one my forebears fought, loved, dreamed and sometimes died for. Above all, I saw the Catholic Church as an almost entirely malign and oppressive force in a country which had once been guided by beauty, poetry, music, dance, love and sheer bloody Paganism. I was taken with a quotation I came across from Kierkegaard in his Journal of 1840. ".....For the Irish have not the heart to baptize their children completely, they want to preserve just a little paganism and whereas a child is normally completely immersed, they keep his right arm out of the water so that in afterlife he can grasp a sword and hold a girl in his arm." It seemed to me that Kierkegaard nailed down with uncanny accuracy the Irish spirit I wanted to express in the song and on the album.
Johnny's "ghosts" are a mixture of the real (Jim Larkin, James Connolly, WB Yeats, Joyce, O'Casey, Pearse etc jostle with Jimmy O'Dea, Brendan Behan and Dion Boucicault etc in references or brief quotes) and the fictionally-real (Kitty Ricketts is, for example, a character in
Ulysses, though Joyce based her on the real life brothel madam Becky Cooper). I invoked Connolly and Larkin because so much of the pre-1916 struggle in Dublin was rooted not so much in nationalism as in civil rights and the demand for a fair living wage. The 1913 Lock Out, in which several Dubliners died, is detailed in James Plunkett's great novel
Strumpet City and the "They're Looting In The Town" section of
Ghostown is inspired by this and by the looting that took place in Dublin in Easter Week 1916. My own grandfather was a forthright Labour Union man. Bill Graham, the late Irish critic, always believed "Looting" was the most prescient part of the album as it appeared also to uncannily predict the unrest in Dublin which would soon take place again outside the British Embassy. I met James Plunkett not long before he died, at a reception in Dublin honouring the career of Jimmy O'Dea (Plunkett had written, along with Flann O'Brien, a TV series for him in the early Sixties) and it turns out he too found inspiration in the Denis Johnson play: "Strumpet City in the sunset/ Suckling the bastard brats of Scot, of Englishry, of Huguenot / Brave sons breaking from the womb, wild sons fleeing from their Mother".
The chorus of "Faithful Departed" is taken almost directly from Joyce, from the "Hades" section in
Ulysses when Leopold Bloom is among the mourners at Patrick Dignam's funeral:
"How Many! said Mr Bloom. All these here once walked round Dublin. Faithful departed. As you are now so once were we". The notion of re-burying the Faithful Departed upright "so the sun doesn't blind you, and you don't have to gaze at the rain and the stars" is borrowed from a similar image in Bertolt Brecht's wonderful anti-war ballad "The Legend Of The Dead Soldier".
"Faithful Departed" has long been one of Shane's favourite songs, and Terry's too, but it does not appear to have found the same favour with the rest of the band, though it turns up at soundchecks occasionally. I am delighted that Christy Moore still regularly performs the song even after almost 30 years, though I have to say he has grown into the song over the years. What first attracted him to it was what he considered the power of the imagery, which was fine by me, but I sense that he has grown to understand the heart of the song too as he himself has grown older.
By the way, the grainy Radiators footage - the only contemporary film in existence of the band doing that song - is from the 1980 RTE TV show
SBB Ina Shuí presented by Seán Bán Breathnach. We also performed "The Dancing Years", which was our new single at the time, on the programme.