Billy McGrath’s excellent film about The Boomtown Rats, ‘Citizens Of Boomtown’, premiered recently at the Dublin International Film Festival and was broadcast subsequently on RTÉ Television in two parts. Its dedicated to the memory of Nigel Grainge, the London-born A and R man with the golden touch who, in 1977, signed the South Dublin outfit to Ensign Records, the label he founded and ran with his long-time side-kick, Chris Hill. Grainge, who died in 2017, is a recurring footnote in the history of modern Irish music: he also signed Sineád O’Connor and the Churchtown four-piece, Into Paradise, to Ensign and, during a previous posting at Phonogram Records, Thin Lizzy. In the directory of great music industry executives, he can be found in the section about good ears.
When Nigel Grainge signed The Boomtown Rats in 1977, he wasn’t signing a punk rock band. The group was certainly pulled into a broader punk rock maelstrom once they’d left Dublin for London, but the notion that The Boomtown Rats were a punk band, or were rooted in any sort of punk rock sensibility, is wide of the mark. They were, rather, a filthy r and b outfit who took their cues from the backroom, pub-rock tropes of Doctor Feelgood, among others. The closest they came to punk rock was singer Bob Geldof’s potty mouth and his bad aim: he routinely plugged himself in the foot while shooting from the hip.
The Boomtown Rats recorded six albums, among them a couple of fine, uncompromising and intelligent pop records, 1978’s ‘A Tonic for The Troops’ and ‘The Fine Art of Surfacing’, released the following year, both of them produced by Mutt Lange. In Bob Geldof, the band boasted a smart, handsome and irascible frontman and, in Britain at least, audiences gave his coarseness a free pass. The Rats were quickly into their stride, scoring a string of Top Ten hit records.
Their transition from pub rock to pop music can be traced easily across their first three albums: they were restless, ambitious and evolved ahead of schedule. David Fricke, the long-time Rolling Stone writer and former Melody Maker correspondent – and a man who, like Geldof, obviously has a mirror in the attic – saw them play live for the first time in the summer of 1978. ‘They were not a punk band. They were a rock and roll band’, he tells ‘Citizens of Boomtown’. As such, they had far more in common with Elvis Costello and The Attractions, Blondie and XTC than The Plasmatics. And of course they could all play their instruments and saw the value in tuning up: keyboard player, Johnny ‘Fingers’ Moylett, guitarists Gerry Cott and Gary Roberts, bass player Pete Briquette and especially the band’s drummer, Simon Crowe, were all serious operators.
Music documentary for television is a platform where contributors are expected to routinely talk through their holes. I know this only too well, having made music television programmes for way too long. In this regard, ‘Citizens of Boomtown’ doesn’t disappoint, and some of the claims made on camera about The Boomtown Rats and the country that begot them are far-fetched beyond words. Far too many of the film’s contributors just mail in theory that collapses under the weight of the facts.
The idea that The Boomtown Rats – or any Irish group of the period, for that matter – were responsible for substantive change in Ireland is as mis-placed as the Rats’ representation as a punk outfit. ‘A unit for change’, says the U2 singer, Bono of the group. ‘A revolutionary council’. Exactly what that change or revolution is, or what it entailed, he doesn’t say.
Neil McCormick, an author, journalist, musician and a former school-friend of Bono, goes further and boldly claims that ‘the Rats changed this country’. In the same breath, he takes a sneery dig at Big Tom McBride, an Irish country singer who first came to national prominence on the showband circuit towards the end of the 1950s, a scene that was anathema to Geldof and many of his peers. As The Boomtown Rats were issuing their first singles, Big Tom was one of the biggest draws in the country, much to Neil McCormick’s amusement: ‘It’s a Weary, Weary World’ was clearly lost on the cooler set at both Mount Temple Comprehensive and Blackrock College.
The Irish showband circuit – on which Big Tom and the Travellers were one of the most prolific outputters – was at its commercial and social apex towards the late 1960s, after which it’s bottom slowly came apart. In his book, ‘The Transformation of Ireland’, the historian, Diarmaid Ferriter, claims that, at its peak, the showband scene ‘became an industry employing 10,000 people, including 4,000 singers and musicians’. The circuit was eventually over-taken by the passage of time: the growth in the number of nightclubs and late licences around Ireland, in which disc jockeys instead of unwieldly groups of live musicians played the hits of the day, saw many of the showbands off.
The glib dismissal of the showbands has long been a standard line of Irish critical patter. Geldof himself was one of the most virulent of the showband critics and, in his excellent 1986 biography, ‘Is That It ?’, describes them as ‘one of the most anodyne creations in the history of pop’. He goes on to claim that ‘the showband system has wasted an enormous number of talented musicians who are fed into the machine for a pittance of a wage’ and, in the same passage, talks about his desire to establish an alternative performance circuit around Ireland. To do this, he enlisted the help of the then Entertainment Officer at University College Dublin: Billy McGrath himself.
In response to the breadth of the showband influence – the circuit had its own television and radio programmes and a couple of high-profile magazines, for instance – Niall Stokes and a number of other young graduates founded Hot Press magazine in Dublin in 1977. ‘Keeping Ireland safe for rock and roll’, Stokes has been the editor of the magazine ever since and is another of the usual suspects who turn up on ‘Citizens of Boomtown’ to sing the praise.
In an interview with Noel McLaughlin and Martin McLoone for their book, ‘Rock and Popular Music in Ireland: Before and After U2’ , Stokes claims that some of the showbands ‘operated business practices that were reprehensible’, that ‘corruption was endemic’ and that ‘business practices were sloppy at best, dishonest at worst’. Is there an implication from him – long-regarded as an imposing businessman and shrewd operator – that the entertainment industry has cleaned up its nest in the years since the showbands ? Or that the showband circuit was an outlier in this regard ?
Most of the showbands performed faithful cover versions of the hits of the day, traditional Irish ballads and come-all-ye dirges: it was woejus stuff for the most part that bears no comparison with anything that followed it. But in terms of social and cultural impact, the showbands left far more of an impression on the country than The Boomtown Rats. By bringing live music to all corners of Ireland, seven nights a week, every week, with the exception of Lent – and by bringing with them the trappings that follow this kind of carry-on – they were far greater agents of change than any Irish band ever. Maybe even a revolutionary council.
The claim that, with Fachtna Ó Ceallaigh’s shrewd management, The Boomtown Rats created a circuit for subsequent acts to launch from may well indeed be the case. But twenty years previously, the likes of Albert and Jim Reynolds, Murt Lucey, Con Hynes, Oliver Barry and others also created a robust domestic entertainment industry from scratch, and then exploited it, much to Niall Stokes’s chagrin, for decades thereafter. They planted ballrooms all over rural Ireland, routinely filled them and booked widely. Albert Reynolds, for instance, put Roy Orbison into one of his own venues in the midlands to almost two thousand punters on a Tuesday night during the early 1960s. The showbands, and the industry that sprung up around them, facilitated congregation on a wide-scale and were central to the development of youth culture in Ireland during the 1960s.
The more interesting aspects of the showband story have long been obscured in a hail of convenient clichés and white-washing: for years, and with good reason, what went on on the road tended to stay on the road. While many of the bands were shagging and boozing for Ireland, managers, bookers and promoters kept the tills ringing out, often cynically and with scant regard for musicians and punters. But it’s not as if this was ever spoken about outside of the inner circle. What was presented as ‘the showband story’ was delivered with gusto from behind the pulpit by the likes of Jimmy Magee, Larry Gogan and Father Brian D’Arcy, a Passionist priest from County Fermanagh who, after contributing regular pieces to Spotlight magazine, became an unofficial Chaplin to the national entertainment industry and one of Ireland’s best-known celebrity clerics.
To be fair, Vincent Power’s fine book, ‘Send ‘Em Home Sweatin’’, published in 1990, at least touches on some of the darker aspects of life for many showband musicians, some of whom were signed to scandalous personal contracts, many more of whom succumbed to alcoholism and other addictions. In a profile on the 2009 RTÉ series, ‘A Little Bit Showband’, Derek Dean, the lead singer with The Freshmen, a Beach Boys-inspired outfit from Ballymena, claimed that ‘the way the showbands are portrayed now, it’s as if Father Brian attended every gig and said a decade of the rosary’. Dean, who recounts his own long battle with chronic alcoholism in his 2007 book, ‘The Freshmen Unzipped’, tellingly remembers his band-mate, Billy Brown, as someone who, having earned a considerable amount of money as a jobbing musician, was eventually dragged down to a ‘determinedly dissolute life dominated by swift cars and fast women’.
Another insightful read from the maverick corps of the circuit, the late Gerry Anderson’s ‘Heads’ , paints a similar picture that’s clearly more faithful to the showband story than the raw nostalgia that has traditionally distorted its history. Given how two of Ireland’s most eminent historians, Diarmaid Ferriter and Roy Foster, both feature among the large cast of contributors to ‘Citizens of Boomtown’, it’s a pity that the film chose not to chase down some of the lazier social analysis just thrown up there and left hanging.
The Boomtown Rats endured, more or less, for the ten years between 1975 and 1985, during which they enjoyed considerable commercial success in Britain and Europe. The country they left behind had joined the European Economic Union [the E.E.C.] in 1973 and, as the group was holding its first rehearsals, Fine Gael, a right-leaning political party was in power under its then leader, Liam Cosgrave. Under Garret FitzGerald, Fine Gael were in power when the band called it a day a decade later. The unemployment rate here doubled while the band was active, while thousands followed Geldof and his band and fled Ireland: emigration out of the country increased significantly during the 1980s.
It can be realistically argued that Ireland was as socially conservative in 1985 as it was in 1975 and, perhaps, even more so. In September, 1983, for instance, the country voted two to one in favour of The Eighth Amendment, to constitutionally prohibit abortion. In effect it gave equal rights to pregnant mothers and their unborn children. Remind me again of how The Boomtown Rats changed the country ?
What the Rats may have actually done, with the support of key actors like Ó Ceallaigh and Billy Magrath, was to establish a runway for those Irish rock bands who came after them, U2 in particular. The Rats were the first Irish group to enjoy a Number One single in Britain – 1978’s ‘Rat Trap’ – and the scale of this achievement, given the extent of the competition at the time, cannot be under-estimated. As the musicologists Gerry Smyth and Seán Campbell argue in ‘Beautiful Day: Forty Years of Irish Rock’, The Boomtown Rats ‘are amongst the most important names in Irish rock history, not only for the quality of the music they produced but also because they expanded the boundaries of what Irish popular music could be about’.
To its credit, ‘Citizens of Boomtown’ routinely reminds us of this, and of just how magnificent The Rats were at the peak of their powers. It reminds us too of Geldof’s absolute ridiness. Of Paula and Bob. The quiet magic of the band itself, the players. But beyond all of that, it reminds us that there is no one history of Irish popular music and that all history is contestable anyway.
Excellent piece – adding the truth ingredient to the nostalgic cake.
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Thanks Manus… 👍hope you keeping safe…
Thanks, Manus. I’m probably like a broken record at this stage but its important to fill in the history etc. All the best, Colm.
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Brilliantly written piece and that’s just on 1st read . It’s never a simple story and I sometimes think it depends a lot on where one lived during those years ie DUBLIN or the stocks
It was a very well done doc by Billy who himself did a lot for rock music in Irl with the Falling Asunder tour s , Stagalee and the Atrix management plus the college circuit late 70 s / early 80 s . But the showbands also threw a few good outfits , Freshman , Plattermen , Reform , Brush Shiiels to name but a few and eventually just before the whole thing collapsed McCannDesmond tried rock acts in the ballrooms , I saw Thin Lizzy , Horslips , Zen Alligators , D C Nien /Tokyo Olympics , the Rhythm Kings , Mamas Boys , the Fuze , Hazel O Connor , Carlene Carter with Nick Lowe band , Kirsty McCall with most of the Rumour , Bad Manners plus we had the Arcadia and other non ballroom venues and clubs
Maybe it’s nostalgic but I went to a gig almost every wend plus mid week I did not feel starved , I felt blessed to be honest
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Thanks very much, John. I love Billy’s stuff and he’s certainly done his bit for the entertainment industry in Ireland. I just think that, in respect of the showbands, the tendancy has been to concentrate on the music and not on the scale of the soaicl impact. Anyway … thanks so much for reading and posting. All the best, Colm.
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I have to agree that the hagiographic aspect of what was a fascinating documentary was too much to the fore. It takes Bob at his colourful and often cartoonishly lurid word — and there’s too much store in the cliched guff of Stokes and McCormack. Geldof has always reached for the sensationalist and the lush … all good for the lyricist and frontman extraordinaire, but hardly forensic in terms of analysis and social history
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Thanks v much, Enda. I thoroughly enjoyed the doc, as I do all of Billy’s stuff. But there’s another side to some of this stuff, also. Thanks for staying with us and for still reading ! All the best, Colm.
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Ana-mhaith a Choilm, mar is gnáth! Ach….bhí níos mó uaim…mar is gnáth!! An gcuirfidh tú na haistí le chéile agus leabhar a dhéanamh dóibh agus níos mó toirt a chur le ceann nó dhó acu? Colm
GRMA a Choilm. Agus ag súil go bhfuil cúrsaí go geal leat sna laethantaí craicáilte seo. Ag obair ar tógra acadamach faoi láthair thall san Ollscoil agus gnóthach go leoir leis an jab. Ach cinnte, tá pleann ann … Colm
Superb piece, spot-on and fairly-balanced on all points I think and a necessary redressing of the balance. I’ll go as far as to say I think this is the most accurate and skilful piece of writing I’ve read here yet, and as you know I’ve been reading it religiously (ha!) for years.
An entertaining read. The Rats are my (and I suspect many other 14-in-1977 south Dublin teenager Schrodinger’s cat band. They would have been just another Skids, XTC or Squeeze to me if they had hailed from somewhere else other than just down the road. That proximity brought identity and ownership and pride, making it near impossible to separate the fact from the fiction, the bluster from the veracity and never knowing whether you were just looking into the box or actually in the box.
It hard to describe, in contrast to today’s razor sharp, incessant and accessible pipe of data, just how woolly things were back in the 70s. If you blinked, you missed it… but what that meant was that if you bought in, you were in and in for life. You became a disciple, slavishly scouring the publications, radio spectrum, TV for any morsel, however small of your chosen devotion. Back in the day, you had your football team and as you grew older, you had your band too, often inherited and influenced by older friends and siblings.
The maiden aunt from Galway unpinning my Rats glitter badge (Dandeloin!) from my lapel in the summer of 1978 as the price for 3 weeks holiday, my friend Brian cutting out and wearing for months the armband from the back of the Looking after number 1 12″ sleeve, the still indescribable pride of that Rat Trap at #1 TOTP appearance which still makes my eyes water and my throat tighten. Its hard to articulate the sub-conscious dawning that their success brought to me and my peers.
Their flaws have been well documented elsewhere, the criticism harsh, the words unkind. But I really really don’t care about any of that – they were and remain my band. And I will love them forever.
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Thanks so much for such a terrific post, HEW. Its a piece in itself. GRMA. All the best.
Great piece Colm, you’ve obviously done your research, I have very little knowledge of the showband era so will have to track down some of those texts you mention!
We always do our research at The Sentinel, FS. None of your regular top-of-the-head tat here.
Hope all is well with you. Colm
Brilliant analysis and a superb piece of writing. As someone who observed the Irish music scene peripherally in the late 70s, 80s and 90s, I second Colm’s emotion. The definitive history of Irish rock still has to be written. Maybe a job for the Sentinel team?
Thanks very much for reading and for the kind comments, Colin. Glad you enjoyed it. Thats a big project, right enough: I think we’re very happy keeping it here for the time being. All the best. Colm.
Great piece Colm. As a Jackeen /80s teenager, I’m afraid the dying embers of the show-band circuit did tend to bring me out in a rash. Can see your point though. Do I Ludicrous or their song about Bob get a run out during the documentary ?
Thanks for reading, for posting and for sending me off down a rabbit hole for the last 30 minutes. Sadly, there is no reference to A Pop Fan’s Dream in the documentary but what we do know, courtesy of that fine, insightful number by I, Ludicrous, is that ‘Bob carves marvellously’. Thanks again. Colm