The Long Rider

If Christy Moore were to be cast in a cowboy film, he would probably end up as the baddie. Baddies are always big and sweat a lot. Good guys don't wear woolly vests.

But in real life, in Derry or Kerry, or down where I come from, Christy is regarded as a kind of an amiable cross between Don Quixote, Robin Hood and Jesse James. In the absence of windmills, he tilts at windbags. He takes the piss out of the rich and powerful, thus giving the rest of us the odd bit of a laff. He takes on the lawmakers, with his winning way. The golden maverick who's always fast with the choice wisecrack, Christy shoots from the hip, straight to the heart of the matter. Who says Charlie Haughey is a better draw?

There was no one to sing Irish protest-songs, before Christy Moore. He sums up for us all, the ambivalence we feel towards our own Irishness. No one has a better claim to being Irish than Christy. No single individual has played a greater part in the revival of interest we've had in folk and traditional music this past decade. And yet, no one has railed longer or harder than he, against those things which are bad, ugly and indifferent in Irish society.

Christy is as much an outlaw as Joe Strummer or Johnny Rotten. So, maybe he does move with something closer to a shamble than a stride, but he is none the less graceful for that.

One of the reasons I really wanted Moving Hearts to make it was so Christy could be a Star, maybe even appear on Top Of The Pops! What a corker that would be, eh! From bog-trotter to box-hopper to rock'n'roll Star!

John Waters: I gather that you consider this new album Ride On is a new departure for you. In what way, exactly?

Christy Moore: Well, you're the first one that's asked me that question, but... I suppose the best way I can describe it is that it's the first of my solo albums that I would be happy to hold up beside the first Moving Hearts album, or the first Planxty album.

Prior to this, I always felt my solo albums were way behind the band albums. but this time I'm fairly happy with it. before, my solo albums were always easy to follow. They were always a kind of mish-mash of whatever songs I was doin'. But I think I've set a standard for myself here, that it'll be quite a while before I'll be able to do my next album.

JW: I notice that all of the songs are by Irish songwriters, including two of your own songs. Who do you rate as the best Irish songwriter?

CM: At this point in time, Jimmy McCarthy. Without any doubt, Jimmy is the finest songwriter in the country. Even though 'Ride On' is the first of his songs that I've ever recorded, I've been listening to his songs for a long time, and... they're pretty stunning really. I think the guy is brilliant.

JW: 'Ride On' is a beautiful song. Very atmospheric. Does it have a particular significance for you?

CM: It paints a very definite picture for me. Of two lovers, one of whom is very politically orientated and wants to go a certain way, and the other person just can't handle it, even though they, perhaps, would like to follow. But they can't, maybe because of fear.

'Ride On' says to me, 'I can't do that, even though I'd love t be able to go with you the whole way. I just can't. I can't handle it.' That's what it says to me. Other people say to me 'Give us that beautiful song about the horse'! (laughs)

JW: There are also two songs by Bobby Sands. Where did you come across them?

CM: Both of them were given to me about this time last year. And on two consecutive nights, strangely enough, I was playin' in Derry city one night and one of them was given to me. And the following night I was playing in Bellaghy, out in south Derry, and another one of them was given to me. Both of them by fellows who had been in the Blocks with Bobby.

JW: When did you first become aware of Bobby? Was it during the Hunger-strikes?

CM: Oh yeah. I never heard tell of him until he became O/C of the Provisionals in the Maze. Even though I found out subsequently from his sister and brother and mother, that he was a big Planxty fan, and he used to go to Planxty gigs in Belfast.

JW: Do you support the Provisionals?

CM: Yes.

JW: Do you know any IRA volunteers personally?

CM: Oh God yeah. I've been in the H-Blocks, on visits. I know an awful lot of volunteers. I know much more IRA volunteers than I know special-branchmen! (laughs)

JW: What is your experience of them?

CM: I find them to be quite amazing, actually. I find it very hard to imagine the attitude I had towards IRA volunteers, ten years ago, with the knowledge I have of the IRA volunteers I know now, and the kind of people they are, and the sacrifices they make, and the lives they lead.

JW: What attitudes did you have?

CM: About ten years ago, I belonged to the body of people who believed that the IRA controlled all the vice, and all the... y'know? I believed everything I read in the Sunday World and the Hot Press, before I tried to find out for myself.

JW: What do you say to people who say that in your music you incite people to hatred and bigotry and violence?

CM: Well, the position which I have now towards the Republican Movement, is one which has grown within me over the last seven or eight years, as a result of what I've experienced myself in the six counties, as a result of what I've seen and as a result of what I know to be true. So, as far as I'm concerned, my position and my music have come about as a direct result of personal experience. I would never incite people to bigotry. But I do react to the bigotry which I myself have experienced. And despite what the Hot Press might print, or what the media might print, I don't consider the Republican movement to be a bigoted organisation. I do consider the UDR and the RUC to be full of bigotry.

JW: On the other side of the coin, do you think that, perhaps, because they are put across in the context of 'entertainment', political songs - even very intense ones, like 'El Salvador', the Johnny Duhan song that you do - are in a sense neutered? In the end they could have the opposite effect than is intended - that of immunising the audience...

CM: No, I don't think so. Quite honestly, I don't believe that. If what you're sayin' is that, by singin' about things that are grotesque, in the context of an entertainer, I might be makin' people immune... I mean, surely the very fact that one is singin' a song about El Salvador, is doin' the very opposite? Because, basically, we are being immunised by the lack of attention being given to El Salvador - especially in view of the fact that the perpetrator of most of the bloodshed in El Salvador is coming here in a few weeks time.

JW: Can music effect change?

CM: Oh definitely, yeah. It can affect thought. It can begin thought-processes. It can make people aware. It's a very powerful weapon.

JW: Have you ever voted?

CM: I have voted. Let me see now. Aaah... in the last election, I voted for... I can't even remember the guy's name. He was... I can't even remember why I voted for him. Like, I would normally vote for some off-the-wall Independent.

JW: How would you describe your politics?

CM: Ah, they'd be kind of indescribable, really.

JW: You're not into the theory of politics?

CM: No. I was once told by a well-known revolutionary that I lacked political theory. That if I could get a good political theory together, I'd have a great future in front of me! (laughs)

JW: You're not a pacifist, obviously...

CM: I would like to be a pacifist. I would like to be romantic enough to believe that we could have justice in this country by peaceful means. But, from my experience it's impossible.

JW: Have you ever been arrested?

CM: Yeah. I've been arrested. For fairly trivial things. Once for possession of cannabis, and once for drunken driving. It was at Her Majesty' Pleasure, each time. I've never been arrested by the guardians of the peace in the Free State. Yet.

JW: Have you had encounters of any kind with the Gardaí?

CM: I've had a couple of encounters with the people in this country alright, but nothing out of the ordinary for anybody with Republican sympathies. And I suppose I would be enjoying a certain privileged position, in the fact that I have access to the media. Most of the uniform police I meet in this country are quite civil, and as a result will probably always remain in uniform. It seems to be a different kind of person who gets into the branch. And, as far as the people in the Task Force go... I would be terrified of those people!

JW: Have you done a lot of drugs?

CM: Oh yeah. I've had a go at them all, really.

JW: Do you still...?

CM: No. I smoked all the time for about ten years. Literally, all the time. Every day. For a while then, in the late Sixties and early Seventies, I did a fair bit of acid. I couldn't handle it at all now. I'd be terrified of it now. I wouldn't recommend it, to be honest.

The other thing - as regards the smokin' end of it - I would recommend to a lot of people. I think it's a very nice pastime. It's a great relaxant and can make you aware of a lot of things, as well. It can help you to find things that you wouldn't normally find. But, again, I don't bother with it any more. And the mushrooms... I'd be a bit afraid of those boys too.

JW: You used to be a fairly heavy drinker...

CM: Yeah, but I'm effectively off the drink now. Actually, I was off the drink for three and a half years, and even though I've had a few lapses recently, they've been quite contained. For example;e, I went on the piss last Monday because I was thirty-nine, and managed to contain it to two nights. And I didn't drink since. I'm very pleased about that, because that was something that wouldn't happen before. Like a couple of times last year, when I started drinkin', I actually did go back into the DTs again, y'know.

JW: So you had a fairly heavy drink problem?

CM: Ah yeah. I had, yeah. I used to drink far too much. I used to go on stage drunk. My whole life has improved an awful lot, in the last three and a half years, through having so much more time, for instance. I mean, the big thing with drink is that it's so time-absorbing. It's very easy to spend six or seven hours a day drinking. It's bloody hard work, y'know?(laughs)

JW: From a purely health viewpoint, do you ever regret what you put your body through?

CM: No. I think, as far as I'm concerned, where I'm at now, all the different things I did, all the different experiences I had, were part of whatever I am now.

JW: Are you a religious person, at all?

CM: I don't have any religion. I don't have anything to do with the Catholic Church at all - except sometimes in my work, or in my day-to-day living, when I would meet priests or I would meet nuns and would get on perfectly well with them. I mean, I would never be aggressive towards someone because he was a priest, or she was a nun, or because he was a Guard, or whatever. I take people as I find them. But I don't believe in the Catholic Church.

I drifted away from it when I was about seventeen or eighteen when I was in the Bank in Clonmel, I think. More from laziness, really. I stopped goin' to mass. But it's only in the last seven years or so, when I started to examine things a bit more closely that I would have actually come to say that I have absolutely no religion whatsoever now. Or I wouldn't accept anything from the Catholic Church.

JW: Do you not believe in God?

CM: I have no belief in the kind of God that they hang onto, anyway. I don't really believe in God, as such. No. I believe in the world, in the earth, in people, in the air and the water.

JW: And after we die - a hereafter?

CM: No. It's all over then.

JW: What kind of a school do your kids go to? (Christy has three boys, aged eight, six and sixteen months.)

CM: They go to an Irish school, where, I'd say, the Catholic Church has a little toe in the door, as distinct from a full foot. But it's a fairly broadminded kind of a school, where they don't suffer because of the fact that they're not makin' their communion, or something.*

JW: What position would you adopt towards your children, on things like sex before marriage, and so on?

CM: Well, I would never say to my children 'Don't have sex before marriage.' I would like to give my children respect for their own bodies, and respect for other people' bodies, to the extent that... I suppose sex with love is... is a great business. Y'know? Whereas, I think, children who indulge in promiscuous sex at a very young age, maybe miss out on a lot. I dunno what my thinking would be, about it. I suppose I would have to wait for another five or six years, and then try and talk, as honestly as I could, to my children about it. I mean, I already talk to my children about sex. Or, they talk to me, about sex! There's no great cloud of secrecy about it.

JW: And what about drink and drugs? Do you see yourself having to be perhaps, somewhat hypocritical in order to protect them?

CM: Well, like, I don't visualise myself imposing anything upon myself for the sake of my children. I have a very open relationship with my children, even at the ages they're t now. And I don't think I would ever need to be dishonest with them, because I felt they should, or shouldn't do something.

I suppose I'd just have to be totally honest about the whole drugs thing. I mean, we've already had discussions with the kids about the religion thing. We've had our problems, but we've managed to develop a rapport with them. Like, we had a scene with Andy last year, about the communion thing - that he wanted to make his communion. And we finally compromised and told him that if he still wanted to make his communion when he was sixteen, that we'd go along with it, and that we'd buy him a new suit, an' all.

JW: Being on the road as much as you are must be fairly hard on a marriage...

CM: Well, obviously, it is difficult, but we kind of do it together. But it is difficult. When I met Val, y'see, I was on the road. And since then I've been on the road. Since I left the Hearts, I've had more time at home. Last year, I played a hundred and twenty gigs, I recorded two albums and about four or five singles. So, I had a fairly heavy year last year, but at the same time, we managed to have a lot of time together. This year I'm only doin' one album, and I have it done. And I plan to do about a hundred gigs this year. So I'll have a lot more time at home this year, than I used to have.

JW: Talking about Moving Hearts; was the fact you left, in a way, an admission of failure in respect of the Moving Hearts 'experiment', i.e. the co-op aspect of the band?

CM: I wouldn't like to say that the fact that I left was an admission of failure on my behalf, although, in point of fact, I've never thought of it that way before. It's a very interesting question. (Pause) I suppose, one way of answering the question would be to say that I would never become involved in a musical co-op again. Ever.

JW: Why?

CM: Because I found it very, very stifling. The decision-making process was very difficult. Sometimes you can find yourself in a situation with people in a co-op, who don't want to have anything to do with making decisions. Also, from the point of view of various things, you can't move quickly enough. Also, I think, the biggest reason why Moving Hearts haven't really clocked, is because recording companies generally won't deal with a co-op.

JW: Is that simply prejudice, or are there practical reasons?

CM: At the time, I felt it was prejudice; but, in retrospect, I think it's practical. If you want a band to do something, it's very difficult to get eleven people together and talk to them about it.

JW: Is that why you left?

CM: Well, no. There was family reasons - that Moving Hearts was becoming such a big part of my life that I couldn't handle it anymore. And there was also the fact that it was becoming too difficult for me to be the singer in Moving Hearts There were things coming up in the band that I wasn't quite comfortable with. I felt I was being forced to sing in a particular way - in a kind of way that I couldn't sing. Like, musically, I'm fairly limited, d'ya know what I mean?

I had no difficulty with the first album, but I had a certain amount of difficulty with the second album. Like, my voice was actually strainin' on some of the things on the second album - even though I loved the second album. The music was becoming a little bit difficult for me - a bit too complex.

JW: Based on your experience with Moving Hearts, do you now believe that a band must have a hierarchical structure - in terms of the money which people receive, and so on?

CM: Well, it's not so much a money thing, as... of consideration being given for the different amounts of work that are being done by people. I tried to manage the band - well, I did manage the band for the first year. And then Norman used to do an awful lot. And both Norman and myself almost cracked up. And then Keith subsequently took on what we had been doing. And I've seen Keith, who'd been trying to do so much, tryin' to keep the whole thing together, trying to balance all the books, look after all the money, all the expenses. And you]d have others coming up to him after every gig, tryin' to sub two pounds off him. They'd be totally oblivious to how difficult his job was. That's the kind of thing I'm talking about.

JW: So, you now believe that co-ops don't work?

CM: Well, I'm not saying that they don't work. What I'm saying is that my experience of them is that they haven't worked. I do know of co-ops that work. But I've been in two bands - one of which was a total co-op, and the other a band, a musical co-op - and really neither of them worked. I think, if Moving Hearts had, in retrospect, started as co-op, but with expert management as part of the co-op, it might have been a different story.

CM: Let's talk a little about your background. Your father was a politician, wasn't he?

JW: My father was involved in Fine Gael politics, and went for election to both the Dáil and Senate. He was chairman of the Kildare County Council, for years. Also, in his younger days, he was in the Free State army. He was a lieutenant. He died in 1956.

CM: Do you remember much about him?

JW: Oh, I can remember him very well. I was eleven when he died, but I can remember him very, very clearly. Basically, he was a man who... he was a child who came into an awful lot of money, but blew it all. When he died, he had nothing at all.

He was the product of an agreed marriage between a very old bank manager and a young bride. And his father died when he was four; and he had an awful lot going for him at the age of four - an awful lot of land and stuff like that. Y'know? But he managed to get through it all, anyway! (laughs)

JW: How do you remember him?

CM: I remember him as being a very, very hard worker. Like, my father was very highly thought of in Newbridge, and even though he's now 27 years dead, the people of the town still talk about him. And people still call me Andy Moore. Even though I've become fairly well-known in my own right, older people in the town still call me Andy - because I was Andy Moore's son. He was a very highly-thought-of man.

JW: I heard your mother was on the radio some time ago. She sounds like a very radical woman...

CM: Oh yeah! My mother is a very radical woman. She was involved, last year, in the Anti-amendment Campaign. She's involved, at the moment, in opposition to the Reagan visit. She's also a republican - even though, when my father died, she went forward and won his seat on Kildare County Council, in the Fine Gael party. But she left the fine Gael party, and finally she jacked in politics altogether, for a period of six or seven years. In her young days, she was in Sinn Féin. And I think, as in the case of thousands of people around the country, her Republicianism was re-awakened by the hunger-strikes.

JW: Where did you go to school?

CM: I went to school in Newbridge, all the way through. I started off with the Sisters of Mercy, and then the Patrician Brothers and then the Dominican priests.*

JW: Did you like school?

CM: I did, yeah. I must admit that I liked school. I think one of the reasons was that I was good at sport, and I think if you're good at sport in an Irish school, you're made up. Y'know?

JW: Were you bright?

CM: Well, I got six passes in the Inter and six passes in the Leaving.

JW: How did you find the brothers and priests - were they violent?

CM: Yeah. There was a couple of violent fellows there, alright. For anyone who went to the nuns and the priests and the brothers during the late Fifties and early Sixties, it would have been fairly average. I did come across a few lunatics alright.

JW: Corporal punishment would have been fairly routine, at that time...

CM: Oh yeah. I can safely say that, when I was with the Dominican priests, I would have received corporal punishment every day - five days of the week. But, the actual normal, routine corporal punishment, I could handle. The thing I couldn't handle was the occasional outbursts of really severe violence. Y'know. Like, I can remember a priest hittin' me one day, and actually knockin' me out! (laughs) He actually put me down!! With his fist!!

JW: So, how do you feel about all that now?

CM: Well, I've actually met that guy since, and he told me that he just hated fuckin' teachin'. And like, I was a bit of a smart bollocks, meself, in those days, and I can remember givin' him a fairly hard time. You know the way you'd be when you're around fifteen or sixteen.

JW: After school, you went straight into the bank. You must have hated that job:

CM: There were times when I didn't hate it that much. It all depended on what kind of an office you were in, or what kind of an area or what the manager was like. Like, I can remember ne guy, down in Ballyhaunis, who was a complete swine. He was always sendin' me home to polish me shoes, or put on a clean shirt, or shave! I can safely say that when I worked in Ballyhaunis I hated the job, but when I worked in Clare, the job was quite okay, because there was always a tune to be had at night.

JW: There was a fair bit of status attached to being a 'bank clerk' at that time.

CM: I know what you mean. But it never impressed me too much! Like, when I left the bank, I was a lot more impressed by the pay-packet I got on the oil-rigs than that status I got in the bank. Y'know? It bought an awful lot more drink!!*(laughs)

JW: What were the oil-rigs like?

CM: Well, they were run by Texans. It was the early days of the exploration in the North Sea. All the jobs were taken up by Scotch, Irish and Geordies, but all the management/supervisory jobs were Texans.

JW: How did they treat you?

CM: Very badly. Slave labour. Literally that. Prior to that, they had been drillin' off Africa for years, usin' black labour. And when they came to the North Sea first, the job was totally non-union, and there was a lot of people looking for jobs on the rigs. So dismissal was very common. Y'know? So you ate shit and kept your job. The slightest little bit of insubordination and you were gone. But it suited me. It gave me a chance to get some bread together and buy myself a decent guitar.

JW: Have you had any other strange jobs in your time?

CM: Well... let's see now. I worked on the buldings. I worked in the Curragh racecourse for a while. I actually worked pressing records for a while, for EMI. Aaah... I worked as a box-hopper for a while. I worked for Walls, makin' sausages. I worked in Ross Foods, processing peas. I worked as a cold-meat porter, for a big store in Manchester... Aaah... there're the ones I can think of.

JW: What the fuck is a box-hopper?

CM: Well, there was this waste-paper factory, where the waste paper used to be sorted upstairs and it'd be dropped into these boxes. And they'd always have fairly big guys jumpin' on the boxes, to compress all the paper down. (laughs) So you'd be hoppin' up and down, and eventually this compressor'd come down and press the paper right down. And then more would come down and you'd be jumpin' on it. And eventually a bale of waste-paper was made. A bale of waste-paper! It was a fuckin' dreadful job.

JW: No weight-watchers need apply, eh?

CM: (laughs) Oh no! Like you had to be fairly fuckin' hefty!

JW: What kind of music do you listen to?

CM: It varies all the time - from year to year. At the moment, I'm very into country music - Willie Nelson and Waylon Jennings and Merle Haggard. Last year, I was very into Elvis Costello. I always come back to Van Morrison - everything that he does, I get it and listen to it. But I don't listen to that much music, really. I spend too much time workin' on my own music, really. I tend to listen as a singer rather than a listener, as such.

JW: Have you got any heroes?

CM: Jesus! Who would my heroes be? Good God Almighty! I suppose the most heroic people I've encountered would be the hunger-strikers. For live heroes, I would have to look towards very diverse people - Gerry Adams... Tony Gregory... Sister Concilio... ah... I've never really thought very much about it... Woody Guthrie... Pete Seeger... Ghandi... aahh... Donal Lunny... aahm... Bill Graham.(laughs)

JW: What's your greatest weakness?

CM: Well, I suppose, selfishness and... ahh, I'd say it's a failing of mine that I judge people too quickly. And, very often, I've been wrong... I could go on, and on.*

JW: Are you a wealthy man?

CM: I'm not very wealthy, but, as a result of the last year, very comfortable. And if things continue to go as they're going, I could conceivably be very wealthy, in five or six years time.

It hasn't changed my lifestyle very much. The main thing that it's changed is that I now almost own my house.

JW: Is money important?

CM: No. I wouldn't say that I'm any happier now than I was seven or eight years ago. The quality of my work is more important to me, than how much I'm getting for it. I think I'm lucky, in that the kind of music I want to play is popular, and I'm not actually having to write music and sing songs that I don't want to, to be successful.*

JW: Who is y our favourite Irish politician?

CM: (Long pause) I suppose it'd have to be Tony Gregory. Also Sean McBride. Also people like Des Wilson, who is probably the person I admire most of all, in Irish politics, even though he's not an Irish politician.

JW: Which politicians do you dislike the most?

CM: (Longer pause) That's a much more difficult one to answer. There's so many of them. I'd say, in recent times, probably Paddy Donegan, Paddy Cooney... and I'd probably put Michael Noonan in there as well.

JW: Why those, particularly?

CM: In terms of the erosions of freedoms, and the blatant lying. Also, I can never forgive Donegan his behaviour, both towards itinerants in his own area and towards Cearbhall O Dalaigh.

JW: Did you admire O Dalaigh?

CM: Not so much admire him, as... I was just aware of him, his presence - as a person who was a cut above the rest. And Donegan insulted him in such a horrifically ignorant manner... y'know, I was really shocked by that.

JW: Are you an aggressive person?

CM: I suppose one of my faults would be that I fly off the handle sometimes. But I think I'm getting better at that. I think there are all kinds of different forms of aggression, and most of my aggression has been vocal aggression. I've very seldom been involved in physical violence. I've done a lot of shoutin' and roarin' in my time!

JW: What was the happiest day of your life?

CM: That's easy. The day my first child was born. The day Andy was born. It was an amazingly happy experience, because I was at the birth. It was really... phew! It was amazing! I felt intensely happy after it.

JW: Who was the most difficult musician you've ever worked with?

CM: That should be easy! (pause) Difficult in what way?

JW: Just hard to get on with.

CM: (Long pause) Ye fucker ye! (laughs) Aahh... I'd rather not answer that question. All the most difficult people I was ever on stage with are friends now, and I don't want to offend them. There are people I would never dream of playing with again, but would still like to see them, or even like to listen to them.

JW: Are you easily moved?

CM: I'm not easily moved. I've been very moved, a few times in certain situations, singing songs, by the emotion I felt coming from the audience. It happened one night in London, I was singing Bob Dylan's 'The Emigrant', and I just suddenly got this fuckin' terrible feeling of emotion came over me. But it was to do with different things that were goin' through me head, because that's a song that just always affects me. I remember another night, singin' 'Ninety Miles To Dublin Town' in Ballymurphy, and that was very emotional.

JW: Are you moved by other things, besides music?

CM: Yeah. I could be quite moved by watchin' Alex Higgins winning the World Championship, and his emotion could affect me. Or any fuckin' thing. So, I suppose I am an emotional person.

JW: A lot of your songs are sad songs. Are you a sad person?

CM: I wouldn't think I am. Actually, I feel myself, about my songs, even though I might be doin' a lot of Message Songs, and quite a lot of sad songs and love songs, but when my gigs are over, there's always a celebration. And, I think, that's one of the things I always felt about Moving Hearts: people talked about Moving Hearts having been a big political band, and everything, but Jesus, Moving Hearts' gigs were very happy events! And I would like to think that Christy Moore gigs are, as well.