The Blue Nile Podcast

CPI Archive 2008: THERE was a time when music and art collided. A time when Andy Warhol designed album covers for the Velvet Underground and the Rolling Stones. A time too when the New Romantics paraded their wares like made-up Dandy Highwaymen across Ireland and the world.

Like all new movements however, an unavoidable natural force was constantly at work. Dragging the music deeper and deeper inside its own theory, leading it by the nose to a stylistic nth degree - when the sound collapses in on itself and it becomes a pale parody of what it once was. In the early aftermath of this New Romanic apocalypse came The Blue Nile. Without the frills of Spandau Ballet or Adam Ant, the Nile possessed something altogether more tangible. They had heart. Over the next two decades, this heart would serve as a sort-of musical quality control. Forcing them to bin moneymaking albums that just weren’t right - making them always tell the truth to the fans and more importantly to themselves. The result of this heart is a 25-year career with just four records, including a massive eight-year gap between Hats and Peace At Last, but also a discography of unquestioned quality. “I think that the audience wants you to do something that’s true. Otherwise when you are writing emotional music there really is no point. I mean there are always other considerations, but the truth of the matter is that once you get into the process of writing the song, the song becomes the boss. Not the band and certainly not the record label,” says Paul.

CPIArchive2008b · The Blue Nile Podcast

The Damien Dempsey Podcast

CPI Archive July 2021: To speak of the home of Irish music is to speak of only one place - Doolin. Andrew Hamilton speaks to Damien Dempsey about his new album and his experiences recording in Clare.

DOWN the hill at Doonagore lies a rocky road. Past the wind-beaten whitethorn and sea-bound limewater from the mountain, it emerges slowly - like the Aran Islands in the horizon on a cold March morning - the homestead of Irish music. There, under a roof of thatch and straw, sits Damien Dempsey. Flanked on all sides by Sharon Shannon, John Sheahan and Barney McKenna - the work of the day is a pleasant one. A slow stroll down memory lane. A walk down that rocky road. “Recording these songs was an incredibly liberating experience for me. They weren’t my song for one thing. We recorded them down in Doolin in a little cottage in January. We had been thinking of doing some of my own songs and a few ballads and making it into a double album but once we got into the ballads we thought that we should just throw everything into the ballads,” said Damien.

CPIArchive2008b · The Damien Dempsey Podcast

The Dan Kennedy Podcast

‘I come to bury the music executive, not to praise it.’ Andrew Hamilton chats to American comedian and Atlantic Records insider Dan Kennedy about the demise of the grey-suited music executive.

IF the Mama’s and the Papa’s told nightmares to children of free independent music - the villain of the tale would always look like Dan Kennedy. Picture the grey-suited music executives, full of glorious ambition, back stabbing his way to the top office on the New York skyline. Think greed, cocaine in club bathrooms and champagne in a hundred penthouse hot tubs. Imagine American Psycho or any number of roles played by Tom Cruise throughout the 1980s - meet the music executive. After basking in the very last embers of the surf rock scene in California, Dan Kennedy cut his musical teeth on the streets of Seattle in the 90s. Seattle in the 90’s meant one thing - grunge, and with bands like Nirvana, Soundgarden and Pearl Jam taking on the world he was an easy convert. But just how does an early 90s Seattle grunge fiend become a late 90s New York music executive? “Ya, I turned on a dime. The second that I realise that all the suits had remodelled kitchens and huge apartments I was ready to sell out. I was like, ‘who do I have to dress like to fit in around here? Where do I get one of those grey v-neck sweaters’,” he said.

CPIArchive2008b · The Dan Kennedy Podcast

The Richard Hawley Podcast

Some are built to lead and some to follow, but some – it seems – are made equally well for both. Ahead of his appearance at the Galway Arts Festival, Andrew Hamilton chats to Pulp guitarist Richard Hawley, Sheffield’s last working class hero.

“SOMEONE phone the police, Richard Hawley has just been robbed.” The cry from the stage at the 2006 Mercury Music awards as Alex Turner accepts the applause, and the award, for the Arctic Monkeys. But then the monkeys are good Sheffield boys, and like all good Sheffield boys they know their history. And over the last two decades, Richard Hawley has been a central part of that history. A self-proclaimed musical grafter, his rise in the public eye has come about slowly. Avoiding the lime- light, whether with the Longpigs or with Pulp, Hawley was always contented himself with a place in the background – a minor note. That is until now. “I wanted to record the music that was in my mind but I never really though that it would end up the way it has. At first I looked for a singer to work with – because I couldn’t find anyone with a deep enough voice for what I wanted – so I eventually ended up doing it myself by default,” said Hawley.

CPIArchive2008b · The Richard Hawley Podcast

The You're Only Massive Podcast

CPI Archive 2008: Irish music has a fresh new talent. Andrew Hamilton caught up with Maebh and Megan from You’re Only Massive as they shopped for costumes for their upcoming gig in Ennis.

OF ALL the Irish artist to emerge over the last year none can claim to be as original or interesting as You’re Only Massive. The Water- ford two-piece mix techno, hip-hop, trance and good ould fashioned rock and roll to create a sound that’s altogether their own. 

CPIArchive2008b · The You're Only Massive Podcast

Unseen Sounds: The Kiernan McMullan Podcast

CPI Archive 2008: In the second instalment of the Unseen Sounds series, Andrew Hamilton spoke to Killaloe singer song writer, Kiernan McMullan.

THE product of a musical mixed marriage including boy bands, hip-hop and heavy metal – Kiernan McMullan is a very atypical singer songwriter. Born in Hong Kong and raised for 13 years in Boston, he had already lived a little before he came to Killaloe as a teenager. “My dad’s from Belfast and my mom’s Australian and they both wanted to live in Ireland. I was in boarding school in Limerick and I’m not really sure how it happened but I somehow ended up living here in Killaloe,” said Kiernan. “I started playing piano when I was about six years old. I started off with classical and I wasn’t really feeling that in the same way as the other six- year-olds. So my teachers brought me out a book of old ragtime pieces and blues and jazz and basically teach me how to improvise. “I have to be honest though – when I was nine years old I listened to boy bands like the Backstreet Boys and N’Sync. No shame though, it’s all part and parcel of all the music I guess. It was weird though - I went from that to hip-hop and rap and then somehow got into heavy rock. It’s funny how your musical tastes change so quickly.

CPIArchive2008 · Unseen Sounds: The Kiernan McMullan Podcast

The Stiff Little Fingers Podcast

CPI Archive 2008: Thirty years after Inflammable Material single-handedly launched the Irish punk scene, Andrew Hamilton chews the fat with the granddaddy of Irish punk, Stiff Little Fingers’ Jake Burns.

FOR the preachers of anarchy, self-destruction is an accepted and inevitable bedfellow. Few in those angst-fuelled days in the late 1970s – when punk took its first raucous steps into the world, spitting bile and fury – could have seen much further than “get pissed, destroy”. The future was simple: there is no future. And so it seemed in the summer of 1983. After six years of hell-raising, the music public had moved on. The New Romantics, bands like Spandau Ballet, Ultravox and Culture Club had risen with a university-minded sense of the world, and to be part of the angry working class – to be a punk – was no longer an accepted option. But where do punks go after the party’s over? Sitting in his west London bedsit, the young Jake Burns struggled with that same question. Betrayed by his music, rejected by his fans and alienated from his band, there was really only one place left — oblivion. As creative arguments turned to fistfights and fistfights turned to all-out brawls, it was starting to become dangerous for Stiff Little Fingers to be in the same room together. “We just couldn’t stand each other. When we first started playing together, we were all 18 years old, and by the time we split we were all 23 or so. You do a lot of growing up and changing in those years, don’t you? In our minds, we were still 18 and we reacted to pressure just like an 18-year-old would," he said.

CPIArchive2008 · The Stiff Little Fingers Podcast

The Joe Echo Podcast

CPI Archive: 2008. WHAT’S in a name? Well, according to Derry troubadour Joe Echo (aka Ciaran Gribbin), everything really. After hanging up his frontman shoes and embarking on a solo fling early last year, the former Leya lead singer needed something to mark him out from the crowd. He spoke with Andrew Hamilton.

“When I left Leya I really wanted to experiment musically. So I decided to reinvent myself. The last thing I wanted to do was come across as just another boring singer-songwriter. It just made sense to go down that road. The name Joe has been very close to me for a long time, it's my grandfather’s name," he said.

CPIArchive2008 · The Joe Echo Podcast

The FIFA Records Podcast

CPI Archive 2008: Far from the drums of the Frank and Walters, Ashley Keating has a second, secret musical life. Andrew Hamilton chats to the Fifa Records co-founder about musical poverty, Russian electronica and being shafted by Fight Like Apes.

MARCH 7, 1983 should have been a great day in Manchester. After five years of musical swashbuckling (but commercial suicide), the boys at Factory Records had finally struck gold. New Order’s Blue Monday was a song with a soul, all seven and half minutes destined to change music and alter the fortunes of the original Indie label. Wilson, Saville, Erasmus and Hannett had always played by the rules of rock and roll and now, it seemed, the almighty dollar was finally to be their reward. That would have been nice, fitting. But, as in all the best stories, nothing ever really seems to fit and a nice happy ending never rings true. And so it was for Factory, as Peter Saville’s record sleeve for Blue Monday was so expensive that the label actually lost money on each of the million-plus copies sold worldwide. In business terms, a moment of unthinkable madness but, in the annals of rock and roll, it is the stuff of pure tragic legend. And so, 25 years later, we come to Fifa Records. Founded by Ashley Keating from the Frank and Walters, along with Killian O’Flynn and Pat Doyle, Fifa is a label without contracts, where the music comes first and the bank balance is an all too unwelcome distraction. “With the Frank and Walters, we worked with seven different labels and four different publishing companies. The best experience that we ever had was when we were with Setanta Records and everything was done on a handshake. I wanted to do it that way with this. I didn’t want contracts; I didn’t want to have legal people in before we even talked about the music,” said Ashley. 

CPIArchive2008 · The Fifa Records Podcast

Unseen Sounds: The Aileen Podcast

CPI Archive 2008: In May of 2008, I started the Unseen Sounds series to provide a platform for up and coming Clare musicians and bands. The first article and podcast features Kilrush singer songwriter, Aileen. 

ASK any budding musical talent about the importance of commercial success and shifting ‘units’ and you’ll likely as not get an answer lifted straight from the streets of the Bohemian Montmartre — “It’s all about the music man.” The thing about Kilrush singer- songwriter Aileen, though, is that she really seems to mean it. After cutting her musical teeth at the age of 13 with soft rock five-piece Wire Bullet, it was the persistence of other people that dragged her slowly into making music. “The solo stuff started about three or fours years ago. One of my friends, Liam Frawley, was down in UL and he coaxed me down to record a demo with him,” said Aileen. 

CPIArchive2008 · Unseen Sounds: The Aileen Podcast

The Daniel Lanois Podcast

As he emerges from behind the mixing desk, legendary producer Daniel Lanois talks to Andrew Hamilton about his debut film, the Canadian revolution and the progress of U2’s twelfth album.

SOUTH over Custom House Bridge, through fields of fresh wrought cobble and a thousand 21st-century workhouses drip-drying with the fresh-dollar veneer of the IFSC; deep in this jungle of grey stands the great windmill of south Dublin. In the shadow of Stack A, the walls of Creighton Street breathe and grow like a plant. With layer upon layer of new graffiti, the psychedelic photosynthesis of youth survives unchecked in a steady truce between Ireland’s past and present. This is the old Windmill Lane Studio, the spiritual home of U2 and the birthing ground for Boy, October and War. A shrine to all that was once great about music on this island. Less than a mile away, from a ho- tel window overlooking St Stephen’s Green, U2’s legendary producer Daniel Lanois contemplates the future. In town for a long stay, the Canadian’s thoughts drift to his latest endeavour with Bono, The Edge et al and the work of the day over at U2 Towers. Success has thrown up a paradox in the life of Dan Lanois. His skills as a producer are unrivalled but have somehow overshadowed his own career as a performer and singer-songwriter. But now, after countless trips to Ireland, he has finally come to share his music and not just his skills at the desk. “I like to think of producing and recording as the one thing. Because the studio is so much a part of me, I never really separate it from live performances. If you’re asking me is it difficult to produce your own work, then the answer is yes,” he said.

CPIArchive2008 · The Daniel Lanois Podcast

The Jinx Lennon Podcast

CPI Archive 2008: People’s poet or pulp philosopher, Jinx Lennon is an artist who pulls no punches. Andrew Hamilton chats to the Louth musician about turning to radio and why he hates Billy Bragg.

IT’S the question of the hour; who (or what) is the Free State Nova? Answer that, and you go a long way to understanding Jinx Lennon. Standing square behind leviathan dark glasses, deliberately emblazoned with Tippex pop-mantras, he both hides and seeks. Student and teacher, he stalks the world through windows of broken glass and impenetrably clouded pools. Then, from rooms with no furniture, he yelps and screams his visions. Simplicity of feeling for intensity of emotion. Time’s running out, we’ll need an answer now, tick follows tock follows tick. He’s someone you know, someone you’ve seen but don’t always recognise, someone (deep down) you need. It’s a social thermometer, a challenger of rules, a stater of the obvious. Alter-ego or no, the Free State Nova is Jinx Lennon and Jinx Lennon is the Free State Nova. Later this month, Jinx Lennon brings his brand of pulp philosophy to the radio waves. Alongside long- time collaborator Pauline Flynn, legendary radio producer Eithne Hand and Mikel Murfi, the words and sentiment of the Free State Nova have been transformed into an RTÉ Radio 1 drama. “I found that a bit disturbing at first, to be honest, changing the songs into a play. I had never come across that before so it was some- thing new and strange. We were totally involved in the adaptation and myself and Paula play some of the roles in the play, as well as sing- ing some of the songs," he said.

CPIArchive2008 · Junx2021

The Gemma Hayes Podcast

CPI Archive 2008: With a new album and a new outlook, Gemma Hayes is back on form.
Andrew Hamilton chats to the Tipperary songstress about her quest for musical redemption.

JANUARY 25, 2008. Unseasonably warm rain has washed the hills of Beachwood Canyon for more than four days, creating fast-running gullies, impromptu puddles and a new whitewashed look of freshness. As the mist finally gives way to California sunshine, the rain-soaked landscape begins to shimmer in a kaleidoscope of brilliant light. A liquid horizon, an oil painting that never quite dried — Los Angeles has never looked so beautiful. Curled up before her bay window, Gemma Hayes sits to write. Still wet from her slow walk in the torrent, drops of water from her hair mingle and blotch with ink as she writes. Oblivious to the staining, she works unheeded. True confessions can bear no distraction. This is a day of self-atonement, a day for Gemma Hayes to draw a line under her musical past, her record label days, and re-announce herself to the world. She writes a letter to her fans. "It can be so hard to really connect with people. I just wanted to do something where I felt that I was really opening up to people. Just take away all of this impersonal stuff — there was so much unnecessary stuff in between me and the people that I want to reach,” she says.

CPIArchive2008 · The Gemma Hayes Podcast

The Infomatics Podcast

CPI Archive 2008: Andrew Hamilton chats to Steo from Irish hip-hop group, The Infomatics.

FIVE years is a long time to spend grafting. Touring and writing is one thing, but ask any band and they’ll quickly tell you that to be truly able to stand up on a chair (perchance in a pub, perhaps late at night) and pro- claim to the gathered punters that you are in fact a musician (hear me roar), well that takes the confidence that only an album can bring. For those with an album, music is a career. But for those without, well, music still sits somewhere between a pass-time and a handy few bob (stare at your feet, kick that imaginary tyre). An album is like a musical cherry, and after it’s popped, life really is different. So for Steo and his Infomatic, writing and touring since the early months of 2003, the temptation must surely have been mighty to dive in and announce themselves to the world with a round metal and plastic calling card. But like a Catholic virgin of old, The Infomatics decided to wait. “We started off doing something and we wanted to get it to a certain level, to create a sound of our own rather than put something out there that is half what we wanted and half something else. We wanted to achieve a certain level of something. We put out a few bits and pieces over that five years but, as far as the album was concerned, we wanted to hit with an impact. I think all of us are happier to have waited,” said Steo.

CPIArchive2008 · The Infomatics Podcast

The Walter Mitty and the Realists Podcast

CPI Archive 2008: Andrew Hamilton speaks to Colin Bartley from Limerick funksters, Walter Mitty and the Realists

EVERY scene has its characters and Limerick is no different. From the unbridled angst-grinding metal of Giveamanakick and the rock and rock euphoria of Vesta Varro to the avant-garde power pop of We Should Be Dead and the heartfelt acoustics of Eoin Coughlan, Limerick is a town with all its musical basses covered. Where then, among this ever crowded soundscape, is there room for Walter Mitty And The Realists? Where then indeed? Like a musical Moses standing atop the slow-moving ebb of the Shannon, this Limerick/Leitrim four-piece has discovered they possess the power to turn mere water into pure funk. And people are queuing to be baptised. “We’re into a lot of different kinds of music and I think the sound evolved from all that. The writing came after that and the sound changed again, you know, when we started writing together as a band. We weren’t really thinking which route to go. We were just jamming and the songs came out of that,” says bassist Colin.

CPIArchive2008 · The Walter Mitty and the Realists Podcast

The Dave Rotheray Podcast

CPI Archive 2008: Andrew Hamilton spoke to Dave Rotheray of The Beautiful South about his new project, Homespun.

IF 20 odd years in the music business has taught Dave Rotheray anything, it’s the importance of control. Since the summer of 1989, when Paul Heaton asked him to join the fledgling Beautiful South, Dave has been one part of a big team, a musical company-man. It’s the natural order of things. Bands by definition are often more about compromise and conciliation than full creative freedom. And in bands, more often than not, you’re going to lose more battles than you win — doubly so when you’re the chief songwriter in a a band with two chief songwriters. Now, as a resurgent Rotheray prepares to launch his third album under the Homespun moniker, he holds all the cards. Despite the presence of heavyweight musicians such as Tony Robinson (Super Furry Animals), Claire Mactaggart (Portishead) and Gary Hammond (the Nina Simone band), things are finally getting done Dave’s way. “It starts with me on my own. I have a mate called Alan, who lives down the street from me, and when I’ve written something new, I play it for him on tape or whatever. That tends to be the song. I get all the others up for a weekend and they get all their bits down, including the singing of course,” he says.

CPIArchive2008 · DaveR2021

The Drugzilla Podcast

CPI Archive 2008

In early 2008, Andrew Hamilton spoke to London based Lisdoonvarna musician, The Human Jigsaw, about the massive success of his speedcore outfit, Drugzilla.  

LISDOON is famous for a lot of things. There’s the wells, drenched in the slow sticky stench of sulphur and chalybeate. Then there’s the matchmaking, with its dancing and cajoling, and the sweet molasses scent of the porter in the taps. Then, of course, there is also the real festival — the one with Christy and Rory Gallagher, and yes, I suppose, its fair share of porter too. The latest shot at success to emerge from Lisdoonvarna, however, is flavoured with the sickly sweet taste of Buckfast, and despite already boasting a huge worldwide audience, has gone largely unnoticed in Ireland. In the 12 short months since Lisdoonvarna duo The Human Jigsaw and Manimal came together to form Drugzilla, the pair have collected a huge following through Myspace, and all this before they play a single gig or release so much as an EP. “The whole thing has been a huge surprise. We started it as a laugh to just see how things would go and then, the next thing we know, there are more than 20,000 friends on Myspace and 50,000 listens. It’s great. We just have to see how far we can take it,” says The Human Jigsaw.

CPIArchive2008 · Drugz2021

The Pier 19 Podcast

CPI Archive 2008

IT’S tough carrying the weight of a town. But that how it’s been in Galway of late. Ask any Galwegian (imported or regular) what the City of Tribes means to them and they’ll likely as not name two things; the craic and art (and yes, maybe also the Buckfast). Yet for a place so synonymous with the arts, the music scene in Galway has lived a fairly charmed life of late. In the dark days of the ‘90s and ‘00s, cover bands ruled the roost, and the Galway scene began to fade — being replaced by Cork, Limerick and even Sligo as the music capitals of the west. Though things have started to improve, the people of Galway still await their musical messiahs. With just the Saw Doctors and The Stunning (and we all know where they really come from) to show by way of mainstream success, each great new musical hope has been saddled with 20 odd years of expectation. One such band is Pier Nineteen. “The Galway scene has definitely bounced back in the last few years. There is some good stuff around, some really good local bands. It’s been the strongest it has been since the days of The Stunning,” said Dave.

CPI-ARCHIVE 2007 · The Pier 19 Podcast

The Ken Bruen Podcast

CPI Archive 2008

BREATHLESS, he pulls his bike to the curb and glances one way, then the next. No one had seen, he was sure of it. With a school-girl giddiness belying each of his 30 odd years, Ken Bruen has a single moment of doubt — six times is enough. A seventh would just be vanity. Yet heedless of his own warning, he mounts his bike and pedals his way back down London’s Charing Cross Road. And there, as he knew it would be, centred in the Soho vista, lies the giant arched windows of Foyle’s bookshop. A sublimity in glass. “Shadows of Grace, a novel by Ken Bruen, I wonder what that’s about,” says an elderly woman to her husband. In that moment, Ken Bruen knew he had finally made it. But good news can travel slowly, and back home in Galway his father had other ideas. “I wrote my first novel when I was 26 and I’d say it sold about five copies. I wrote two more mainstream novels after that, which got good reviews but didn’t sell.

CPI-ARCHIVE 2007 · The Ken Bruen Podcast

The Balcony TV Podcast (2008)

CPI Archive 2008

The first time I met Stephen O'Regan he was rushing around a Dublin Hotel, fuming, ready to confront the judges who had not seen fit to shortlist his project, Balcony TV, for a Golden Spider Web Award. Over the next few years, with little or no help from the Irish tech, music of government communities, he and his co-founders built Balcony TV into an international music phenomena. After beginning to broadcast from a small Dublin apartment, Balcony TV is now broadcast from 65 cities all around the world. In early 2008, Stephen O'Regan spoke with Andrew Hamilton.

CPI-ARCHIVE 2007 · The Balcony TV Podcast

The Other Voices Podcast (2007)

In 2007, Other Voices was just starting to emerge as a major force in Irish music. In November of that year, Andrew Hamilton spoke to programme creator, Phil King,  about the concept behind the programme and what makes St James' Church in Dingle such a special place for musicians. Sadly, the audio of this interview has been lost. The original text of the interview is available on the link below. 

The Phil King Interview

The Grand Pocket Orchestra Podcast (2008)

CPI Archive: 2008

Early in 2008, Andrew Hamilton spoke to Paddy Hanna from up and coming Irish indie band, Grand Pocket Orchestra.

IF all philosophical arguments were solved through the medium of thumb-wars, the battle between Alexey Pajitnov and Paddy Hanna would be the pollex-grudge-match of the century. Imagine the scene: Pajitnov, sat in the very red corner, removes his ushanka and strokes his gristly beard thoughtfully. In the slightly green corner, Hanna is looking confused; confused and liking it. On one side, a Soviet inventor who used his love of order and all things rational to bring Tetris to the world. On the other, a musician who, along with his band, looked confusion square in the face and decided it really didn’t look that bad after all. It’s all happened very quickly for Grand Pocket Orchestra. Having first come to notice at last year’s Working Class Heroes, the Dublin four-piece have started to carve out a home for themselves in Ireland’s emerging indie-electronic scene. Last Friday saw the release of their debut EP, Odd Socks. Sounding angry, happy, sad and enthusiastic, the aim is to be amusing and entertaining in equal measure. “Our EP, well as far as I know, is all about confusion and fear, but expressed in a happy way. It’s kind of like pulp philosophising really - everyone is happy but we are all very confused ultimately," said Paddy. 

CPI-ARCHIVE 2007 · The Grand Pocket Orchestra Podcast

The Maura O'Connell Podcast (2007)

CPI Archive: Just before Christmas in 2007, Andrew Hamilton spoke to Clare singer Maura O'Connell from her home in Nashville about here memories of Christmas at home in Ennis.

NEW YEAR’S EVE in Nashville. The temperature tops out at a balmy 82 as shoppers rush home in short sleeves and sandals to welcome in the New Year. A quick stroll down Lindawood Drive reveals not a single Santa or festive tree. Christmas here is over - its last week’s big news. That is until you reach the O’Connell homestead. With decorations still proudly on display, Christmas is still very much a going concern for Maura and her clan. It’s like a little slice of Clare, alive and well in the spiritual home of American music. “I’m looking out the door now and the sun is splitting the rocks and it’s more than 75 degrees. But who knows, it might get cold next week. I would prefer to have it a bit cool around Christmas time,” she says. 

CPI-ARCHIVE 2007 · The Maura O'Connell Podcast