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In the memoir “Here Comes Everybody” by James Fearnley, the accordionist recounts the Pogues’ first headlining tour in Ireland. One particular gig in Carlow stands out due to a violent brawl that erupts among the audience. Fearnley is appalled by the behavior of the crowd and even more so by frontman Shane MacGowan’s response. MacGowan delivers a lecture to his bandmates, proclaiming that people are always on the brink of committing heinous acts against each other, such as murder, rape, and violence. He insists that this is the reality of human nature and no amount of complaining will change it.
Fearnley is perplexed by the fact that someone who holds such views can also create songs that are so beautifully insightful, filled with poignant self-pity about the human condition. He makes a valid point: the songs that flowed from MacGowan during the years of 1984-1987 (spanning the Pogues’ first three albums and most of his esteemed reputation) were truly extraordinary, as Fearnley claims. MacGowan had the ability to craft pieces like “The Sick Bed of Cúchulainn,” which kicks off the album “Rum Sodomy & the Lash” in a gripping, chaotic frenzy that lasts a mere three minutes yet manages to touch on themes of ancient Irish mythology, the infamous 18th-century criminal Billy Davis, renowned Austrian tenor Richard Tauber, and the story of Frank Ryan, an Irish Republican who later became a Nazi collaborator. And he could also create tunes like “Streams of Whiskey” and “Sally MacLennane,” which, at least while they were being played, could make a life of perpetual drunkenness seem incredibly alluring and thrilling.
He was also skilled at composing political songs that expressed his anger towards the Troubles, particularly in 1988’s Birmingham Six. This was recorded alongside Terry Woods’ more subdued Streets of Sorrow. In addition, he had a talent for creating humorous songs, such as The Body of an American, which vividly portrays an Irish-American wake: “The men began telling jokes and the women became playful / By five in the evening, everyone there was drunk.”
However, his true talent was in creating songs that shed light on broken lives. This was evident in their debut single, “Dark Streets of London,” which was self-released in 1984 under the band’s original name, Pogue Mahone (meaning “kiss my arse” in Gaelic). The song is set in a world of pubs and betting shops and draws on lead singer MacGowan’s personal experience with mental illness, as he had spent time in a psychiatric hospital during his teenage years. The lyrics paint a picture of a dark and troubled place, with lines such as “
Shane MacGowan had a strong connection to the gritty reality of London, where bookies, pubs, drugs, mental illness, and poverty were prominent features. This world often served as the backdrop for his lyrics, even in his more romantic songs like A Rainy Night in Soho. Some may dismiss him as just another privileged artist, educated at prestigious schools like Tunbridge Wells and Westminster. However, MacGowan was not trying to be a voice of the working class. Instead, he wrote about the underclass and outcasts of society, including junkies, drunks, pimps, and prostitutes. Through his lyrics, he showed a deep understanding and compassion for their struggles and stories. From the dying rent boy in The Old Main Drag to the drunken storyteller in A Pair of Brown Eyes and the quarrelling couple in Fairytale of New York, MacGowan brought these marginalized individuals to life with empathy and tenderness. He acknowledged that he was fortunate to have a different path in life, but recognized that he was not so different from them. Despite his fame and success, he remained grounded and connected to the world he sang about.
In addition, MacGowan paired his words with melodies that had a timeless quality. From a musical standpoint, it was sometimes difficult to tell the difference between the Pogues’ own compositions and the traditional songs they played with such intensity that some critics in Ireland accused them of disrespecting the music rather than honoring it. (However, others argue that the Pogues’ greatest accomplishment, along with MacGowan’s songwriting, was bringing new life and energy to folk music for a post-punk audience during a time when the genre was thought to be dying out.)
The method behind his success remains somewhat of a puzzle. According to Fearnley, MacGowan was frantically searching for a new band idea after the disbandment of his rockabilly punk group, the Nips. At one point, he even suggested dressing up as Roman gladiators and playing “Cretan music,” but soon after, he gave the accordionist a tape with a collection of songs that would go on to become Pogues classics.
Over the next few years, MacGowan continued to produce excellent songs, but his well-known lifestyle began to impact his creativity. He reportedly started using large amounts of LSD and other hard drugs in addition to his heavy drinking. While the last two Pogues albums (Peace and Love in 1989 and Hell’s Ditch in 1990) still contain some great songs written by MacGowan, it’s noticeable that the standout tracks on Peace and Love were written by his bandmates, particularly Jem Finer’s “Misty Morning, Albert Bridge.” Furthermore, MacGowan’s vocals on Hell’s Ditch are slurred and difficult to understand, to the point where producer Joe Strummer had to piece them together syllable by syllable. This raises the question of how they originally sounded. MacGowan was ultimately fired by the Pogues during their subsequent tour.
He appeared to gather himself together for a brief period in order to record another impressive album with his newly formed band, the Popes. Their style was noticeably more rock-influenced: in 1994, they released The Snake, which featured the exhilarating tracks “That Woman’s Got Me Drinking” and “Haunted,” a revamped version of a Pogues song featuring a duet with Sinéad O’Connor. This showed that MacGowan had the ability to create even a stadium rock anthem if he put his mind to it. Unfortunately, their next album, The Crock of Gold, did not live up to the same standard and MacGowan sounded worn out. From then on, he alternated between profitable reunion tours with the Pogues, occasional solo performances, and guest appearances with bands who were influenced by the Pogues, such as American “Celtic punk” group Dropkick Murphys and Irish “folk metal” quintet Cruachan. He also occasionally spoke about making a new album with his backing band, the Shane Gang, or more recently, with Irish indie-rockers Cronin, but these plans never came to fruition.
He also gave occasional interviews, which were invariably sullen or bad-tempered – Julien Temple’s 2020 feature-length documentary Crock of Gold: A Few Rounds With Shane MacGowan gave the wider public an idea of just how sullen and bad-tempered the musician could be – and which never shone any light on the process or inspiration behind the incredible burst of creativity he’d essayed in the mid-80s.
Shane MacGowan’s enigmatic persona was deliberately cultivated, fitting in with the Pogues’ penchant for myth-making. MacGowan’s appearance, described as a mix of “Brendan Behan and a traditional Irish grandfather,” and his lyrics which reimagined Irish folklore in the context of urban London pubs, all contributed to the band’s larger-than-life image. It was only natural that their lead singer would also become a legendary figure in his own right.
Source: theguardian.com
