Rory Gallagher statue unveiling: A memorial not just to Rory but to his love of Belfast

"Rory, Rory, Rory" – it was a familiar war cry at every Rory Gallagher gig, as the sense of anticipation and excitement crescendoed before the legendary guitar player bounded onstage.

That same cry rent the air on Saturday, just before the official unveiling of a new statue of the great Irish rock hero, outside Ulster Hall, in Belfast, on Saturday morning.

It was, in itself, a hugely symbolic moment. The project had been a decade or more in the works. Now, finally, the dream was about to be realised.

There was a great turn-out for the occasion, with people travelling from all over Ireland to be there. The Lord Mayor of Cork, Green Party man Dan Boyle – himself a former bass player – attended in an official capacity. Alliance Party councillor Micky Murray, the youthful Lord Mayor of Belfast, played a key part in the unveiling ceremony.

Micky is the first gay Lord Mayor of the North’s biggest city, that simple fact offering an unambiguous reflection of just how much the place has changed over the past two and a half decades, since the signing of the Belfast Agreement. It felt right that it was during Micky's year in the city’s highest office that a statue to a rock icon would finally land where it belongs – right in the centre of Belfast city.

Rory, Rory, Rory!

Rory Gallagher statue unveiling outside Ulster Hall in Belfast.

NORTH OF THE BORDER

RTÉ's Northern Correspondent Vincent Kearney was going quietly about his business. Rock writer and broadcaster – and former Hot Press correspondent – Stuart Bailie had a camera slung around his neck. Julian Vignoles, who has written extensively about the guitar legend – and was an early staffer with Hot Press before becoming a leading light in RTÉ – had travelled from Dublin to bear witness.

Belfast poet and journalist Bernard J. Conlon talked about his father's part in Belfast's turbulent past – from the blitz, on through the Troubles, to the more open-minded city of today.

Frank Girvan of the Rory Gallagher Statue Project Trust, himself a huge fan, had the look of a man for whom the hour of destiny had finally arrived.

And then there was the Gallagher clan. Rory’s nephew, Daniel Gallagher, who has been responsible for curating, remixing and remastering the recent box sets and recording projects was there. So too was his brother Eoin, who stepped forward to speak for the family when the time came. Eoin recalled the very strong links that Rory had with Belfast and Northern Ireland, and emphasised just how much it meant to the family to have Rory remembered in this way.

Those links were many and varied. Rory was born in Ballyshannon, Co. Donegal, but he lived in Derry from the age of two till he was nine at least, before moving to Cork. As a result, it made more sense for him than for most southern Irish rockers to head to Belfast in 1967, and make it his base with Taste, before decamping to London when a record deal beckoned.

With him in Taste were two superb musicians – drummer John Wilson from Belfast; and bassist Richie (aka Charlie) McCracken, from Omagh in County Tyrone, who later featured with The Spencer Davis Group, Axis Point and Fastway.

When Rory went solo, he hooked up with bassist Gerry McAvoy from Belfast, and with drummer Wilgar Campbell – also from the North – who had played with The Method and Andromeda’s Dream. Later recruits, keyboard wizard Lou Martin and drummer Brendan O’Neill, were also from north of the border.

GENEROSITY OF SPIRIT

Add to all of that the fact – acknowledged in a heartfelt way by almost everyone I spoke to on the day of the unveiling – that Rory played Belfast every year throughout the worst of the Troubles, doing gigs in the Ulster Hall that were legendary in their impact.

"Two thousand people were overjoyed,” Roy Hollingsworth reported in Melody Maker, "as Gallagher – a native of Cork, Southern Ireland – took the stage, just 24 hours after the city had witnessed its biggest bomb blast during a night of at least 10 explosions.”

The gig, in January 1974, took place in the afternoon and was attended by 2,000 fans.

“We come out of the Ulster Hall now, and it’s dark,” Hollingsworth’s piece ended. "There is nobody left on the streets. Those 2,000 have all vanished, managed to get a bus home. It’s all over. A fire engine, or maybe it’s an ambulance questions the silence. It’s like 4 a.m. in the morning. But it’s 7 p.m. and it’s Saturday night.”

The Troubles may have been in full appalling flow then, but Belfast natives there for the unveiling recalled that it didn’t matter what your background was, or where on some, elsewhere relevant, sectarian divide you might have been positioned by an aspiring sociologist. None of those petty distinctions of class or creed mattered when Rory came to town. The fans wanted to see the mighty slide-player strap on his Fender Stratocaster, or his Telecaster on occasion, and send notes spiralling into the night – or even the day! – in a way that few, if any, others could.

The statue, created by Anto Brennan, Jessica Checkley and David O'Brien of Bronze Art Ireland, seems to capture that inclusive spirit, which rock ’n’ roll at its best conveys like nothing else. Rory’s arms are outstretched in a gesture that seems to invite the huddled masses to come closer, to bask in the warmth and energy and excitement of live music – and thereby perhaps to find their own voices. There is a generosity of spirit in it, which reflects the way that Rory approached his life and his work.

In this respect, it feels like a proper sign of the times.

Walking around Belfast later on Saturday evening there was a lovely sense that this city is so much more at home with itself than in the dark days.

It would be wrong to suggest that all elements of redundant tribal rivalries have been shorn, or that sectarianism no longer exists. But change is in the air. I spoke to people from Donegal and Tyrone, as well as Nigeria, Kuwait and India, who have come to the city to live, to study and to work. It's clear that, if politicians can steer a constructive, generous course together as 2025 evolves, and carry on from there in the same spirit, then we will all have a very different place to relish in three or five years time.

It isn’t yet as cosmopolitan or multi-cultural as Dublin, but it is getting there. And in that, it represents the better version of what we can achieve together on this island.

LOST IN TRANSIT

In many ways, Rory Gallagher was ahead of his time in representing that better Ireland – and the ordinary people who are its real driving force. Among the guitar hero's greatest musical influences were black rhythm ’n’ blues players like Robert Johnson, Lead Belly, Son House, Blind Boy Fuller, Muddy Waters, Big Bill Broonzy, Elmore James, Albert Collins and Chuck Berry, as well as the great female musicians and singers Memphis Minnie and Sister Rosetta Sharpe. He couldn’t stand prejudice of any kind.

He was also interested in folk music and jazz, looking to The Dubliners and Ornette Coleman in equal measure. He was curious, painstaking, a permanent student. As we all should be. That his spirit is immortalised in a new way in Belfast is a reminder of how what really matters can sometimes be appreciated and honoured.

"It’s fitting that the city he loved so much is where his legacy will be celebrated for generations to come,” Rory’s brother and manager Dónal Gallagher offered. “Belfast wasn’t just a place he performed, it was a city that shaped his musical journey and welcomed him like one of its own. From the early days when he played here, it became a second home, a source of inspiration, and a springboard to international success.”

There have been quibbles from some fans about how accurate the likeness of the sculpture is. I saw it immediately. So did Daniel Gallagher. Others have moaned that he is playing a Telecaster rather than his famous Strat. But that seems like a strange criticism. He is playing the battered Strat in Ballyshannon. What’s wrong with reflecting the reality that he played other guitars too in Belfast? The statue is based on a photo taken at that legendary afternoon Ulster Hall gig and used on the cover of Melody Maker.

In a sense this is the old Irish mentality, of people competing to be the one with the smartest put-down. Me? Instinctively, I liked the sculpture.

The symbolism is potentially wider too.

“This statue is not just about celebrating Rory’s career; it also reaffirms Belfast’s status as a cultural hub,” Iain Bell of the Ulster Hall said.

So let’s see that premise as a starting point for something else. No matter where you live in Ireland, it is worth seeing it in person.

There was a time when some Irish people might have felt like Philby – “Lost in transit in a lonesome city,” as Rory's lyric goes – making the trip north to the place that built the Titanic. Not any more. The spirit of Ireland’s greatest guitar legend has been made solid and visible. And the famous chant will echo in the heart’s core of every music fan who stands in front of what is a memorial not just to Rory but to Rory’s love of Belfast.

“Rory, Rory, Rory…”

From a Belfast perspective, the legend has come home.

It is time for the rest of us to make – or remake – the city’s acquaintance...

• The statue of Rory Gallagher is on permanent display outside the Ulster Hall, on Bedford Street, Belfast.