- Culture
- 12 Oct 10
One of Ireland’s best known music industry entrepreneurs, the remarkable Paddy Dunning has pioneered a bewildering array of high-profile projects, with an almost superhuman supply of energy and optimism. He explains to Jackie Hayden why he labours so long and hard, how he first learned his work ethic as a binboy, why bureaucracy frustrates him, how he went broke more than once – and recalls the day he ended up jamming with Michael Jackson.
Paddy Dunning has been a prominent feature of the Irish music scene since the early ‘80s. Managing Swim, the band he used to sing with. Developing music as a serious career option with the Sound Training Centre. Founding Sun Studios. Temple Lane Studios. And then establishing Grouse Lodge Studios as one of the most attractive recording facilities in the world. Befriending Michael Jackson. Making the Wax Museum the fifth most popular tourist attraction in Dublin. Running what began as The Temple Bar Music Centre and is now The Button Factory venue. Launching the Festival of Fires. Renting out Coolatore House, where Michael Jackson stayed when he was in Ireland. And so much more.
And he’s not finished yet, for as he reveals to me, his next adventure is to build a seven-storey giant in the Midlands – a venture which sounds suitably emblematic! I meet Paddy for this interview at his Wax Museum in Dublin’s Foster Place. I’ve already discovered, through talking to some of his key staff, that this is a man who elicits a level of genuine loyalty, affection and admiration from those who work for him that is rare in any industry. He and I have met countless times before, and I’ve always found him very affable, likeable and full of a positive energy that often pushes optimism to the limit. He’s also disarmingly open and apparently lacking in both guile and pomposity. Not exactly your typical music industry stereotype, then.
Advertisement
Jackie Hayden: Being involved in so many projects, how do you stay on top of it all?
Paddy Dunning: In 1984 we set up rehearsal studios. In 1985 we set up recording studios. In 1986 we set up the school and each year we go on to do other things. The Sound Training Centre is the longest-established audio-engineering college in the country. So I’ve had to cope with being under pressure all the time while also having a good time! I love working and I love new projects. So I’m used to it. It’s my life and I love it. I have to be strong and fit and enthusiastic and naturally positive about all the things I do, and that has a lot to do with it.
Has the pressure increased?
At the moment I’m under severe pressure with the recession, with the constant potential for cutbacks. I made a decision not to let staff go, not to do what the whole country is doing, cutting down. I’m actually doing the opposite. While we have to run a lean machine, I want to do more! I have fantastic staff. A natural ethos has evolved where I have various people working for me and I support them. In return, they support me in a give-give situation. That approach has stood to me over the last 26 years. It’s all about the people. Business isn’t important.
You developed Grouse Lodge as a recording studio in Westmeath when it was assumed that the bigger recording studio businesses like Windmill Lane had peaked.
Every single thing I’ve ever done, people said, ‘You’re mad!’ Opening a residential studio in the Midlands of Ireland, they said I was mad. The same with the National Wax Museum, especially taking it on in a recession. All these things were a challenge to me. I didn’t see them as mad, but saw a very clear end result that would make for viable and good projects. It’s not they’re great brainwaves, but when the opportunity appears in front of me, it’s really a question of whether I can back it up and come through with the help of people. Right now I’m also developing a degree course for the Sound Training Centre with Brian Carty, who’s just got his doctorate from Maynooth.
Do you see yourself as a maverick going against the grain at times?
I’m totally independent and I can make decisions on my own terms. I see myself as an outsider. I don’t hang around the usual cliques. I have lots of friends I know and like, in both the music industry and other industries. I get on really well with people. I’ve no enemies, or I think I don’t (laughs). I see all the good in people and that each person has so much potential, but are often frustrated that they can’t carry out that potential.
Who are your closest friends in the music industry?
I’ve got loads of friends, from members of bands I used to manage, to people like John Reynolds, Eoin Foyle, Dick Massey, Ger Kiely, Jimmy MacCarthy, Philip King, Jerry Fish and – so many it’d take too long to mention. Lots of people have come down and stayed with me in my place in the Midlands. Naturally, I become involved with them on a working level, but we also live together. So they have an insight into how I operate and vice versa. It’s always positive. It’s based on work but we can celebrate after that work, whether it be over a meal or a glass of wine or a pint. I’ve met great people. But my true friend is my wife Claire…
She’s Harry Crosbie’s daughter?
Yes. She’s an amazing person. She’s a gardener, she’s incredibly well-read. She’s the best cook in Ireland and the funniest person I know. A real force…
Would you describe yourself as an alcoholic, sorry I mean a workaholic?
An alcoholic? (laughs) I’ve been close to it! My wife would say I’m a workaholic, and an alcoholic! (laughs). No, I do like to work seven days a week. Although I like Sundays with the family. I bring the horses up to Coolatore House or Grouse Lodge or Bishoptown House and I let the people who’re staying in those houses ride the horses as a surprise for them. I’ve put grannies and grand-dads on horses, and people who’ve never been on a large animal ever. It’s a moving experience for them.
Correct me if I’m wrong, but I see you as a slightly shy, retiring person – not your stereotypical music industry figure. Is that fair?
(Thinks) Yes, I like that!
But is it true?
Yeah, I think so. I’ve no interest in being famous. I like my anonymity. I wouldn’t like to be known everywhere I go. I only do interviews like this to publicise the projects I’m involved in and because I’ve known you and Niall Stokes a long time and I respect you both and I admire what Hot Press does for Irish music.
As far as I know, you’ve steered clear of the whole sex, drugs and rock’n’roll thing as well?
I knew you’d ask me this! I’ve been there, done that, you know? Years and years ago, I would have experimented with all of those things. But what rock’n’roll did for me was it gave me a freedom. I could travel, I could meet people. I found I could express myself as a musician, albeit a bad musician.
What did you play?
I sang and wrote songs with a garage band called Liaison who were based in Walkinstown. I lived beside A House, Dave Couse’s band. I got his old hand-me-downs, including his clothes and my bedside locker. Something Happens lived at the top of the road. My dad and Dave’s were best friends.
What happened to Liaison?
We locked ourselves away for a year of rehearsals six days a week in a shed with two feet of clay on top. We were mad into Japan. When Mrs Woods up the road complained we were turfed out by my mother, so I had to find a place in the centre of Dublin and that’s how I found the Youth Expression Centre in Temple Bar, a punk set-up where I established rehearsal studios. About a year later I met Aidan Walsh, the Master of the Universe. Actually, I just visited him in hospital. He’s got clots in his lungs and his thigh. He’s on Warfarin. But he’s gonna come out and do special appearances. Liaison became Swim. I replaced myself as vocalist with a man I believe to be the best singer in the world, Joe O’Reilly. I became their manager and got them a record deal with MCA. We toured with Cher and Fleetwood Mac. That was a great period.
A lot of your more recent projects, like the Temple Bar Music Centre, Grouse Lodge and the Wax Museum have had benefits in terms of employment, education and tourism. Do they attract support from the authorities?
No. I’ve sometimes gone into offices and felt like turning over tables in meetings. But I persist in going in to deal with these authorities. Fás have been very good. They’re flexible now, after years of me telling them they should be flexible. I’m spending a lot of time with Fáilte Ireland. For the Wax Museum I got about €40 grand from the County Enterprise Board, a drop in the ocean. I spent two and a half million. Fáilte Ireland didn’t give me anything, and it’s disgusting. This is what’s wrong with this country. There are loads of people with ideas and they just need to be supported. But there’s a will now in the air that the authorities want to help and all they need to do is bend their own rules and let the money out. We got a grant from the County Enterprise Board for Grouse Lodge, and we got a grant from the Heritage Council to fix the roof. They were great, but they only got me through a week of a two-year build. I went broke seven times. I’ve gone broke on the Wax Museum and on every single project, but I find a penny nearly every day and I feel I have luck on my side.
What are you talking to Fáilte Ireland about?
I’m building a giant the size of the Statue of Liberty in Lilliput on the shores of Loch Ennell in Westmeath. Lilliput is based on one of the most popular books in the world, Gulliver’s Travels. I used to play here as a kid. I’ve got this amazing artist Frankie Morgan, a genius of a man, designing this seven storeys high giant, with a tricorn hat who is (Paddy sits down on the ground and extends his hand to demonstrate) leisurely sitting down on his ass with people on his hand. You can walk up through him. It’ll be made of wood and stained glass and copper. It’ll be beautiful. I’ll show it to you.
What’s the thinking behind it?
People have been saying that everybody bypasses Westmeath on the way to Galway and Sligo. This giant is going to stop that. It’ll be an iconic thing.
You’re also working on the Festival of The Fires. Tell me about that?
It’s another iconic event. It was the oldest festival in Europe. It’ll involve the 32 counties and about 15 or 20 countries, including England, Scotland, Iran and Iraq. It’s deep. It’s Celtic. It covers Christianity back to Pagan times. Pagan is very spiritual, of the earth. Uisneach is the centre of Ireland, there’s a stone called Ail na Mirenn, the Stone of Divisions. If the government supported, this for a small investment of a million euro, we could raise between €50 to €100 million and the diaspora would come back.
Have you approached the government?
Oh yeah.
And what’s their response?
It’s like, oh yeah, yeah – but nobody does anything. But I’m going to make sure they do something. I sent a letter to the Taoiseach. I heard Batt O’Keeffe on the radio and he was talking about being supportive of employment incentives. I sent him an e-mail outlining a plan for a hundred jobs through a whole load of initiatives, some tourism related, some technology, and I got an acknowledgement and that’s that. I’m disgusted with them. Sometimes you get so frustrated you wonder why you bother. I barred the Minister For Arts and Culture Mary Hanafin from here (the Wax Museum) and from the festival because she cancelled the launch the night before.
You’re developing all these new projects at a time when most people are actually retrenching. Why is that?
Sometimes I get so frustrated with the banks, when all of our banking facilities have been frozen. I have to be much more aware of cash-flow. It was really tough and pressurised over the summer. Not just for me. I’ve seen some friends go down, like Hugh O’Regan who is a visionary. Some of them have been damaged.
Is there any solution to it?
Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I’m close to organising a revolution. I know that sounds a bit crazy, but sometimes I’m so frustrated. It’s crazy, the system that’s there at the moment hasn’t been worked properly. I don’t mean a violent revolution, but a new political force that’s not related to the old ethos. The waste of time spent in the Dáil by guys arguing with each other is crazy. So, some people have said to me, why don’t you start a revolution, but my wife won’t let me, that’s basically it, and that’s the truth.
Have you ever thought of going into politics?
Yeah. My uncle Sean Keegan was a TD. He was given the post of Minister For Agriculture and was shafted by Charlie Haughey the night before he was to take office. It devastated him. But I’d only be interested if there was a new party doing it differently, and I wouldn’t want to be a day-to-day politician.
Do you have a strong sense of optimism?
Yes. I think my optimism comes from my mother and my family and from Pauric Thornton who trained me in as a binboy. He gave me a work ethic. I’m a worker. That’s what I do. I get a kick out of that. I built the rehearsal studios out of skips and materials from building sites. I feel that I’m loved by my family and that gives me a strength. Without that I’m nothing.
Is this a spiritual or religious thing?
My family are very religious. My background has priests, nuns etc all over the country. They all came together recently and it was like Father Ted. My uncle is 80 and back from Australia, my aunt the nun is back from Rome, another nun is back from Kilcomer.
Are you religious?
No. I sometimes go to church or bring my kids to Mass. I’m now able to tell my mam I didn’t go to Mass, but that’s only lately. (laughs) She’s extremely religious and I appreciate her for passing some of that on to me. But I’m not a fundamentalist. I don’t like fundamentalists. I see problems caused by all religions. I just plough my own furrow as regards religion and make up my own rules.
You must be worth millions now.
No. I owe millions! I don’t value anything materially, really, because I’m into building stuff up but I’m not into selling stuff. I’m wondering am I accumulating things because it’s part of the male nature. I know less is more. I know your health is your wealth. As long as you can get up and work and have love close to you, these are the most important.
Are you stubborn?
I listen to people a lot. I’m a Libran, so I take ages to make a decision. I’ll ask you for your advice and others and weight it all up.
Do you ever despair or get depressed?
Yes, when I have a hangover! Otherwise no, unless I don’t see a light at the end of the tunnel. But today is a beautiful day and I can see a way out for all the problems I’m facing. But the last fifteen months have been the hardest financially.
The success of Grouse Lodge Studios, attracting acts like REM, Michael Jackson, Muse, Manic Street Preachers, The Blizzards, Sinéad O’Connor and more, all happened in a short space of time. Did that give you a sense of pride?
I don’t take stock. I don’t know how many people I employ. I don’t know how much I made last week.
The biggest coup was Michael Jackson. How did that come about?
A lady called Grace Rwaramba came down to us. She’s his missus, his closest confidante. She’s from Rwanda. She stayed with Michael for the last fifteen years and raised his kids for him. She’s their nanny, she’s their mother, a real, caring mother. We got to know her really well. She saw our studio set up, met me and Claire. Then an agent introduced us to Michael and confirmed he was interested in coming to record in Grouse Lodge. I was aware of all the gossip about him and the media stuff he was going through. I had to think seriously about this. Suppose the press things were true, did I want him around? I have two beautiful girls myself. I discussed all this with Grace and told her I didn’t want any entourage at Grouse Lodge with him. We have our own security there and it’s a serious, inspirational work place.
Can you remember that first meeting with Michael?
Of course. I thought, ‘Here’s Michael Jackson getting out of a blacked-out hired bus in my back garden! I can’t believe he’s in Westmeath! This is bizarre’.
And how did you find him as a person?
He was in our care. It was a privilege to have him and to get to know him. He was just a normal person.
So the media image of him, especially in the American media, is untrue?
Totally and utterly untrue. I know he’s not a paedophile. He’s been vilified unbelievably. He knows he made mistakes like the plastic surgery, but to me he was a good, caring person. He could be funny too.
You looked after his kids, but would you have let him look after yours?
Yes. My kids were in contact with him and his kids. I had no worries on that score whatsoever. We took him into our family as did he with us.
Did you like him?
I got to like him, yeah. And he got to know us personally. He asked us to mind his kids all the time, trusting us. He’d walk around Grouse Lodge in a pair of my wellies with his kids on my horse. We’d go for walks or drives together. I brought him to the Festival of The Fires at the hill of Uisneach near Mullingar.
His figure is in the Wax Museum.
Yes, I talked to him about the Wax Museum. We had a plan to have him here in person and stand on the balcony in Foster Place.
What else did you talk about?
He talked about his life, his trials and tribulations. We talked about Shirley Bassey and Harold Lloyd.
Did he have musicians with him for the recordings he made in Grouse Lodge? How did he work?
He worked with our engineers. I brought a guy who had just finished his course at the Sound Training Centre and the first person he gets to work with is Michael Jackson! Michael had a musician with him called Nephew, who plays piano. I even jammed with Michael while he played drums. will.i.am came over. Rodney Jerkins too. I wanted him to meet Irish musicians like Donal Lunny, Jimmy MacCarthy, Philip King…
Would he have been open to that?
Oh yeah. He was also doing a photography course and making a film in Grouse Lodge. He was happy here. I’d take him to Dublin, Moate, Mullingar or wherever. We’d call into a chipper and get bags of chips. We’d sing together and share water. People couldn’t believe it was him if they saw him on the street. I took him through Crumlin near where I grew up too. One day I brought him down to Harry Crosby’s house and we had lunch there. He spent two hours singing Beatles songs and other stuff with us while my brother-in-law Simon played the piano.
Did you go anywhere else with him?
I went to London with him. That was amazing. I was right in the eye of the storm, in the truck with him with fans banging on the sides.
What were you in London for?
He was getting an award from the Guinness Book of Records for giving away $350 million. I was at a table with princes and princesses, royalty from all over the world. I never saw anything like it.
Did he record anything in Grouse Lodge that’s releasable?
He recorded loads of stuff.
When will any of it come out?
I don’t know, but I’m sure it will.
Did he pay his bills?
He paid me through an office in Washington. There was never a problem with money. I didn’t charge him anything extra.
Did he have any interest in Ireland?
Yeah, he read the papers every day. He knew what was going on here with the recession.
Did he drink?
Maybe a glass of wine with his meal.
What kind of a relationship was there between Michael and Grace? Was she a nanny or a business assistant?
No, no. She was the closest person to Michael Jackson.
Was it a sexual relationship?
I didn’t know. Although I assumed it probably was, possibly on and off. He and Grace used to ring us about once a month after he left Ireland. I also went over to his mother’s house in LA (after his death) to see the kids when the film was being launched. They invited us over. We’re still very good friends with Grace.
Looking back over a very full and busy career, is there anything you regret or feel just didn’t work out the way you expected?
I’ve loads of regrets. Anybody who doesn’t have regrets is probably not telling the truth.
Can you give me an example?
(Thinks) Like a lot of people, I regret not selling a property when it was valued very high and being able to give my family some security. But I’ve always put myself on the edge. I’m not smug. I’ve never been secure financially. If I get money I spend it on something to do with one of my projects. I’m not mad into cars, although I like horses. When I was at school I’d cross the road and get up on a tinker’s horse. But now that I live in the country I have my own horse.