In 1993, Niall Crumlish won a contest to become a Hot Press journalist. His winning piece was a review of an American Music Club album (naturally) and the prize included an appearance on Jo Maxi and the chance to write for Hot Press, which he continued to do for many years.

Niall was four years younger than me — 18 to my 22 — at a time when that actually seemed significant, and he was gratifyingly impressed by the tiny bit of experience that my couple of years at HP had allowed me, giving me credit for knowing a great deal more than I did and for being a far better writer than I ever was. That generosity with his estimation was, I learned, typical of him, and while he continued to overestimate me for the rest of his life, his vision of who I might be gave me something to aspire to, to work towards. It still does. Really good friends will do that for you.

That Niall wrote some of the best pieces ever to appear in Hot Press at such a young age, and went to a million gigs and immersed himself in music while also studying medicine in UCD – you know, in his spare time – gives some idea of how impressive his focus was. Niall quickly eclipsed me and everyone else both as a writer and a fan of music. When given an album to review, Niall didn’t do what most of us did in the mid-90s – wait until just before the piece was due and then frantically cobble together 250 words after listening to the album half a dozen times while hungover. (Actually, he may have done that once or twice, but even when he did, it was with much better results.) Niall dove into albums. He submerged himself and listened, listened, listened; he considered lyrics and themes and intent, and the ways songs fit into albums and into repertoires. How they mattered. He sought to understand a song’s potential even when the execution was sub-par. Again, he was so generous.

This made him, naturally, a musician’s dream as an interviewer or reviewer. It’s no wonder he forged real friendships with many musicians he admired, especially in later years, to his absolute delight. There was nothing shallow or self-serving in it. It wasn’t the person’s celebrity that attracted him, but the music they made, their artistry, their depth, the creative process itself.

He wrote with such thoughtfulness and insight, and also with humour, curiosity, and vast musical and cultural knowledge. And oh lord, the wonderful attention he paid! Often, after reading something he had written about music I was already familiar with, I’d come away thinking— – oh yes! That’s the articulated version of a vague idea I’ve been fumbling around, if I was even aware of it at all, but couldn’t begin to pin down. But he’s exactly right. An example: the time he mentioned that one of the best bits about the song 'New Boy' by The Connells is the tiny blip right before the song starts, a millisecond of anticipation before it kicks in. Every time I listen to that song (and I’m listening right now) I think: he’s right.

Niall Crumlish at the Now We're Talking event at Smock Alley for the World Mental Health Day. Wednesday 10th of October 2018. Copyright Miguel Ruiz

Niall took a hiatus from Hot Press in order to be a doctor. Others will attest to what a wonderful psychiatrist he was, the life-changing, lifesaving work he did, the legacy that lives on through his research and his teaching. But he returned to writing for HP on the side for several years, and also wrote for State and other publications.

He never stopped writing about music because he never stopped discovering and loving it. There was no time for nostalgia with so much amazing new music being made. His appetite for new music, the vast scope of his interest, his openness to every genre – it was inspiring and frankly daunting. But again, his generosity shone in recommendations and suggestions, mixtapes that gave way to CDs that in turn gave way to playlists. Trad, classical, power pop, hip hop, new age, the mopey singer-songwriters we bonded over. So much of our friendship is owed to Mark Eitzel and American Music Club. That was one shared love of many.

In his personal life though, there was only one true love: Sharon. Niall has written so much and so beautifully about Sharon, his love shining constantly through his words, whether it’s a letter written right after he met her in July 2001 or a recent WhatsApp message or one of the many pieces about music that was informed by her, as everything in his life was informed by their love and their family. Respect, admiration, trust, adoration, appreciation, and joy – and all reciprocated, all shared. And always, an awareness and acknowledgement of his great good fortune in love and in life. That never faltered, even after his diagnosis in 2022.

Niall Crumlish at the Now We're Talking event at Smock Alley for the World Mental Health Day. Wednesday 10th of October 2018. Copyright Miguel Ruiz

Niall started a blog in 2015, Psychiatry and Songs, in which he shared pieces about… well, psychiatry and songs. In the last couple of years, the focus changed and his output increased, before it inevitably had to decrease. In late 2022 Niall began a series of essays, Gold Soundz, and in each piece he explored one song he loved. The effect of a gifted writer who naturally paid such rapt attention to music intentionally ramping that attention up even more is a remarkable thing. Niall’s Gold Soundz pieces are some of the very best music essays you will ever read, though of course they are not just about music, because writing about music is never just about music. Niall is writing about life, love, loss, joy, family, friendship, the pursuit of art, the passage of time… everything that matters.

There is so much more that could and should be written here and always the feeling that it would be said much better, so much more articulately and effectively, by Niall himself. Today and yesterday I’ve been re-reading some of his Gold Soundz pieces – including Smog’s 'To Be Of Use', John Lennon’s 'Love', and Big Star’s 'Thank You Friends'. Love, gratitude, and the importance of being of use. Themes of Niall’s life, his work, his friendships and relationships, his way of being in the world. It’s why, in the middle of what is a time of immense sadness and heartbreak on behalf of his beloved family and everyone who cherished him, there is also a constant thrum of thankfulness: that he was here, that he is still here through his writing, his expressions of love, all the ways he so selflessly prepared others for what was to come. Thank God he had time to do that but thank God also that he was the kind of person who would do that. It takes a measure of strength and focus and generosity that is pure Niall.

Enough. Go read Niall’s writing. These are just snippets from larger pieces but start here.

And, thank you, friend.

Gold Soundz 8: ‘Love’ by John Lennon – Psychiatry and Songs

I sometimes think about John’s ‘Love’, the acts and states of being that John equated with love, and the song’s haiku brevity, and I wonder—did he leave anything out?

Well. Love is comfort, comfort love. Love is courage, courage love. Love is caring, caring love. But love is not completely straightforward. Love is concern. Love is grief. Love is trepidation. Love is longing.

To say that these are positives and negatives is to realise that loving someone is not only elevating your life to heights it cannot otherwise attain but also that loving someone is setting you and that person up for mighty loss. At some point sadness like no other will ensue. One could say that the worst thing about a person dying is not what they themselves lose but the pain their passing causes to those who loved and love them.

In John’s ‘Love’ I hear him sing “Love is you / You and me / Love is knowing / We can be”. I hear the present tense in this but in a song like ‘Love’ I also hear an eternal tense. Though we won’t both be around forever, our love lives on and our relationship remains. Love you gave is love you can still give even after death and it stays imprinted in the person you gave it to. I feel that in what my Mum gave, which I still carry in my bones.

That’s why giving love right now is the best use of what time you have. Love causes grief but also strengthens those you love so they can be as strong and happy as possible and that’s what I have to believe matters most. John from early on and right through The Beatles felt not good enough until Yoko arrived. When we are loved enough, for long enough, love can ease the feeling of failure that is so familiar, that constant worry that we can never be a good enough person. Love can ease this agitation. Love is real, real is love, sang John, and he covered almost all bases in this perfect song. He could have added one thing: love is peace, peace is love.

Gold Soundz 9: ‘To Be Of Use’ by Smog – Psychiatry and Songs

On ‘To Be Of Use’, Callahan works to figure out how we might make things better for those around us, even should life remain rough: “Most of my fantasies are of / Making someone else come / Most of my fantasies are of / To be of use / To be of use / To be of some hard / Simple / Undeniable use / Oh, like a spindle / Or oh, like a candle / Or oh, like a horseshoe / Or oh, like a corkscrew / To be of use / To be of use”.

I guess why these records continued to mean so much is that when you knew Wild Love and The Doctor Came at Dawn, then you heard Red Apple Falls, you could feel the heavy hopelessness lifting. You have to be aware of the early work to know that those awful bleak frozen feelings, should they be familiar, aren’t going to stick around. You have a songwriter sharing his emotional evolution experience and letting you know that viewing the future as being empty is an illusion. ‘To Be Of Use’ gets easily added to a playlist of songs that give me goosebumps mostly because of the hope that Smog song brings in contrast to the song from the year before. But ‘It’s Rough’ has to get on the playlist too because those songs are effectively partners; yin and yang.

‘To Be Of Use’, especially where it exists among the songs that surround it, is a permanently perfect moment. This four-syllable phrase, so simple, so short, so tattooable, has stayed with me and not only when using a corkscrew, though I’ve hummed it nearly every time I’ve opened wine. Mostly over the last quarter century when I’ve been trying to establish if what I’m doing at home or at work should help or might not. I don’t think you ever quite know if what you’re doing will improve things for those around you. You’re not in control.

But having a Smog-inspired to be of use as your goal means you have constant signposting in a direction that is, on average, over a lifetime, going to be better than its opposite. It makes decent life easier and should mean you do less harm than good. And it makes you appreciate the music you’ve lived with. When you are young and an artist you love has suffered and struggled in a way that is relatable and is now telling you that things have changed and can change for you, you can believe him. He has been there and he is coming out safely the other side and you can follow him. Talk about to be of use: songwriters can do no more than this. No-one can.

Gold Soundz 14: ‘Thank You Friends’ by Big Star – Psychiatry and Songs

So what I’ve learned lately is that gratitude doesn’t rely on things turning out fine. “Thank you friends” is not only something successful beings say. Indeed, it may be appreciated more when you’re being well cared for when things are not going well. I know this personally for a few reasons, not least a diagnosis that is as dubious as the lyrics of ‘Thirteen’. What you learn is who really understands and has to help.

You know that everyone has a lot of their own shit to deal with and yet some people insist on making sure you are doing as well as you can. You know it brings them excessive exhaustion, but they persist.

Gratitude is automatically directed to close family. When you get sick, they gather around you as a family of elephants does when a baby is born on the Masai Mara after a two-year pregnancy. They avidly protect you. As ‘Big Black Car’ puts it, “Nothing can hurt me / Nothing can touch me” , and with your family gathered round nothing can, except when there is nothing anyone can do any more. That’s inevitable.

And gratitude is also necessary to direct to your friends. As Chilton exults: “Thank you friends (thank you again) / Dear, dear friends (thank you again) / It’s never too late to start”. What that says is: there are people who hear that something is up who insist on doing everything they can. And when you let them help, they hugely help.

It also says that life when you’re well can be lower quality than life when you’ve had a crappy diagnosis. You realise when that happens that you have to spend your time as well as anyone can. You appreciate every moment and you resist going back in the past as well as into the future. There is only now. You tell yourself every day, in a meditative sankalpa, that you are healthy, healed and whole. And you are! And you are less sceptical than you used to be. Still, you are often a pain, and you are distant, and you are sorry, because you’re a burden.

But your friends, in this less than ideal situation, gather around you and they help your healing. They conjoin with your family and it is such a relief when they do and when you know that your wife and your Dad and your siblings and kids have people who have nothing on their mind except how you’ll be and how your family will be.

You think, “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you” and you know that “Without my friends I’ve got chaos / I’m off on a beam of light / Without my friends I’d be swept up high by the wind”. Your friends are your anchors. You are so endlessly grateful. Well – I am. There’s nothing I can add. I’ve always relied on singers to say what I mean. And they’ve never failed.

I can just quote: Thank you, friends. In italics. At least: I can only say that alongside the equally articulate ‘I’m In Love With A Girl’.

That song needs an essay of its own.