There  was an unexpected buzz when Christy Dignam pinged me over the tracks of his new solo album on WhatsApp about a month before the official release date.

We've stayed in touch since I first interviewed him for a major Hot Press Interview in 2016. But I was still apprehensive when Christy asked me to share my two cents-worth on the album. I thought, "What if I don't fucking like it?"

Surprisingly, The Man Who Stayed Alive represents his first solo album in a 40-year career. And here's the rub: it's good enough to be well in the running for Irish Album of the Year.

In 'What If Tonight', it includes what is potentially his biggest single since the outstanding 'Crazy World'. The title track, my personal favourite, is surely another hit-in-the-making.

In fact, there's a fistful of showstoppers on it, along with a wonderful cover of a Leonard Cohen song and an inspired traditional ballad, sung with Imelda May.

Having listened to it, I was more than happy to turn on the recorder, to hear what The Man Who Stayed Alive has to say for himself.

Jason O'Toole: Your voice sounds better than ever on the new solo album.

Christy Dignam: I think it's probably because we weren't gigging so much. The voice was a lot more relaxed. To be honest, 90 percent of it was done in the kitchen. The studio I was recording in with (songwriter/producer) Don Mescall is in Cavan, and some days I was doing chemo and it was just too much to fucking travel. Technology now is fucking great.

Tell us about singing with Imelda May on 'Song For Kathryn'.

Imelda's lovely. I've been a long time in this business and she's one of the nicest people I've worked with. I can understand now why she's so successful. I can tell you: because she's such a joy to work with.

There's also a cover of Leonard Cohen's 'So Long Marianne', with your daughter Kiera on backing vocals.

I wanted to do a song with Kiera. I couldn't put her on 'Song for Kathryn' because it's a love song: it would've felt a bit dodgy. I was very dubious about doing 'So Long, Marianne', because Leonard Cohen is so fucking revered. He's such a fucking genius. It's very hard to do one of his songs and and do it justice. But all the songs on the album are totally different. There's a collaboration with Versatile  — it'll be one of the bonus tracks.

Photo: Dark Lens Photography

The album title is a nod to David Bowie, who you supported at Slane in '87.

I wasn't even thinking of that. I've been fucking written off so many times — that I wasn't going to last a week, you know? And that's where that idea came from really, more than The Man Who Fell To Earth. It never even occurred to me until it was done. I lost my father with Covid last May. So there's been a lot of shit, and this helped me through all that. I wanted to do a legacy album.

How important is radio play in promoting an album?

Radio has never been more essential than it is at this moment. Years ago when people bought an album — say they liked the fifth song and the eighth song, they'd be listening to one, two, three and four to get to the fifth and eighth song. And eventually they'd start liking the other songs, right? But now, what happens is people just download the songs they like. So they're not hearing the songs that they might take a little bit longer to get into. So, there's no financial benefit in albums. One of the Aslan albums we released sold 40 grand worth's of albums the first two weeks and 250 grand's worth were downloaded illegally. The only benefit in a record is that you're hoping that you'll get airplay and it'll help keep the profile up in order to get gigs.

How do you find the local and regional stations?

The local stations in Ireland are amazing. Whether it's Red FM in Cork or LMFM in Louth — or stations like that all over the country. These regional stations are really supportive of Irish music and a lot of them have Irish shows and DJs that just do Irish music.

What about RTÉ?

Before the pandemic, we sent an Aslan single to all the DJs in RTÉ. A couple of weeks later, we were in RTÉ doing The Late Late Show and I seen one particular DJ. I said to him, "C'Mere, did you get the single?" He said, "I love it. I haven't stopped playing it in the car." Blah blah blah. I said, "Are you going to give us a few spins on the radio?" "Oh, no, I won't be playing it on the radio. It doesn't fit into our demographic." And I went, "What the fuck!" That's what you're up against. If you go to France and Canada, they're legally bound to play local music. So RTÉ, who's the national station, should really play a lot more Irish music. But I have to say the local and regional stations are fucking amazing. And you know, there would be no point in us even going on without them.

Why is music so important to Irish people?

I think music really is more important for Irish people than (it is) for other nations. Our whole psyche and DNA is fucking entrenched in music. Music is not a luxury. Music is a necessity for the well-being of people. We've been through a horrendous two years with this fucking pandemic and at this time, more than any other time, we really need an escape and something just to take our fucking minds off everything. Music is amazing. It's like morphine almost: it obliterates any of your fucking problems, or your woes. I always felt that because that's why I dedicated my life to music. But having gone through this pandemic where we didn't have live music for a while, really nailed home to me how important it is.

You refer to politicians as clowns on the track 'Shame The Devil'.

"The clowns just carried on," is the line. There's an arrogance in the government in this country and sometimes it's fucking mind-blowing.

What was your reaction to the pics of Leo Varadkar at a festival in the UK, while they were still prohibited at home.

He did that obviously knowing it was going to cause a backlash. But he doesn't give a fuck. It's like years ago when he said people should get their parents to buy them a house! And he wasn't being flippant — he just has no concept about how real people fucking live in this world.

You've always been one to, "Tell the truth and shame the devil", as your new song goes. You've talked about suffering sexual abuse as a child, your smack addiction and now your battle with blood cancer. Do you have any regrets about being so honest about your personal life?

Yeah, I have had regrets because I do interviews and that's all they fucking want to talk about — drugs and now cancer. They only want to talk about cancer. And sometimes I say, "Why did I even fucking open my mouth?" But I made the decision early on in my career not to be fucking fake and to be as honest as I can. As you said, I've regretted it. My wife has fucking come at me loads of times after: "What the fuck did you say that for?"

Photo: Dark Lens Photography

Like what in particular?

A while ago my dog Jack died and I said, "It was even worse than when my Da died." Which it was because when my Da died we were expecting him to die. He was old, he was gone into dementia. He was in a nursing home. And if I had videoed him where he was and went back a year — if that was possible  — and said, "Da, this is where you're going to end up", he'd have said, "Please, shoot me! Don't send me into that fucking home." He was a very proud man and he was wearing nappies, and stuff like that. So his death was a release for us. It was, "Thank God he's out of that situation." Whereas with Jack, he was a wingman: he came with me fucking everywhere for 12 years. He was like a child. So when he died I was really upset. I couldn't eat for fucking three days. I couldn't sleep. I was that upset. And people said, "You can't fucking say that about the dog being worse than your Da!"

It was easier to accept your father's death?

That's the point I was trying to make. So sometimes I say things and my wife will say to me, "You shouldn't have fucking said that, you fucking idiot ya!" But I just can't be any other way.

Your Hot Press interview, back in 2016, was one of the first times euthanasia was publicly discussed by a high profile Irish figure with an incurable illness.

When I was in hospital and I got diagnosed, I was fucking on my knees and I was praying: "Please God, just give me ten years. That's all they want." I'm eight years into that ten years now and I'm back on me knees here: "Listen, God, I know I said ten, but can you give us another ten?" I don't feel nearly ready to fucking die. When you get something like the condition I have, it focuses you and you appreciate life a little bit more. When I wake up in morning, I think, "Fuck me! Lovely, I'm here. It's another day." I know that sounds a bit weird, but that's my life. But if things got really bad, I would have no problem with euthanasia. If people are in agony, if they've no quality of life, why make them fucking live it? Why make them endure all that when there is an alternative?

There's a line in the title track: "People came to see me self-destruct on stage".

I used to see it years ago with Shane MacGowan as well. People came because they wanted to see you in fucking bits. I remember looking at The Pogues and thinking, "If Shane McGowan totally cleaned up his act, nobody would come and see the fucking Pogues." Because there's like a voyeuristic element to coming along. I used to see it at Aslan gigs as well. Back then (in the '90s), they wanted to see a fucking car crash, or a train crash.

You mention in the song that newspapers having already written your obituary.

As soon as I got ill, like, that was it. I was fucking dead in the water. You have no idea the amount of people that have come up to me and said, "I thought you were dead!"

As an ex- heroin user, what are your thoughts on legalising drugs?

I think all drugs should be legalised, or at least be decriminalised. We should look at both Amsterdam and the Portuguese Model.

You mean: go with the Dutch set-up — legislation for soft drugs; and the Portuguese model — decriminalisation  for Class-A ones?

Yeah, I'd be for that.

The status quo plays into the drug cartels' hands!

You see the fucking Kinahans and all the shit that's going on — that's what we're doing. I see it in Finglas: young kids walking around with £10,000 bulldogs and fucking Gucci shoes because they're selling crack on the corner. And it's killing people. We should decriminalise it and invest all the money spent on policing drugs — arresting people, jail costs and courts costs — into the rehabilitation of drug addicts.

Being a heroin addict is a horrendous existence under the current regime.

Listen, I've been there. Nobody wants that life. It's a fucking nightmare. But once you get into treatment, and get away from that, people don't want to go back to living that fucking life. Nobody wants to sleep in a fucking doorway, banging up fucking shit into their veins and jumping over counters, robbing people.

You're saying the war on drugs has failed — full stop.

The war on drugs has been done by America, right? The richest nation in the world has spent trillions of dollars on the war on drugs and still you go into the most maximum security prison in America and there'll be drugs in there. So if fucking America can't stop it with their resources, we haven't a fucking chance. Let's try something that has been successful. Let's look at Holland and Portugal. I don't think people should be taking drugs, ironically. I think it's detrimental to their wellbeing and their emotional growth. But we have to go about this a different way.

Finally, how do you want to be remembered?

You know, 'Crazy World' wouldn't even be in my top 30 Aslan songs. We've had songs a thousand times better and they'll never be fucking heard. So the one wish I have is that when I die people will look at our back catalogue properly and think, "Jesus! This band were fucking good." But I've had millions of highs. The way I look at it is: I am in a band. I love what we do. And we can still walk around the streets; we can still go to a supermarket. I remember playing a gig in Greystones a few years ago and Brian McFadden was at the gig and within fucking five minutes, somebody fucked a beer over him and he had to be escorted out of the building in case he got bleeding battered. And I just thought, "Fuck that! I wouldn't want that in my life."

Paul Andrews

Christy Dignam's debut solo album The Man Who Stayed Alive is released on October 15.

Watch the video for 'High' below.