This Is Aslan

Considering that their twenty-year history contains more than sufficient evidence of the pratfalls which await the naïve and unwary in the music industry, Aslan could have easily inspired a celluloid tale to rival This Is Spinal Tap in the black comedy stakes.
Whether ordered not to play an under-attended gig by a promoter because of the potential cost of electricity, a tantrum over a sandwich which rivalled Nigel Tufnel's legendary dressing-room outburst or being barred for life from Disneyland following a low-speed chase on a paint trolly, Aslan have certainly made a significant contribution to Irish rock'n'roll lore. But for all that, their onscreen debut Made In Dublin plays it relatively straight - or, at least as straight as humanly possible given the band's collective personality.
Directed by Simon Gibney and produced by Larry Bass for ShinAwil Productions, Made In Dublin intercuts performances from Aslan's five-night 'unplugged' run in Vicar St. earlier this year with rehearsal footage and extensive individual interviews with each band member. It's the latter which ultimately proves to be the most fascinating facet of the project, as the highs and lows of their career are dealt with in a starkly candid manner.
"The amount of interview footage we shot was unreal," says Simon Gibney. "Joe Jewell's segment was the shortest and that alone was just under two hours. As you know yourself they're not exactly shy individuals and they were more than willing to tell the full story, warts and all. The Vicar Street shoot was a doddle compared to stitching together the spoken parts, which is why immense credit has to go to Gary Shorthall, who edited the whole thing. He did an incredible job."
Made In Dublin topped the local sales charts - the similarly titled live album from those gigs did the same and is rapidly closing in on the 20,000 mark - and will shortly receive an extra boost when it hits the video racks in suburban supermarkets. ShinaWil also have ambitions for the 103-minute package which extend beyond these shores.
"The public response so far has been better than we could have hoped for," says Larry Bass, "but we're obviously hoping for the film to be seen further afield. There's a 56-minute TV edit completed which Channel 4 are showing an interest in and although we just missed the competition deadline for the documentary section at the Sheffield Film Festival, we're optimistic of it being accepted for the Amsterdam one, which is a biggie in continental terms. That's why it's a nice boost for Made In Dublin to have been included in Cork, even though we're not in competition."

Oh yeah, nearly forgot. Simon and Larry were chatting in the bar at Dublin airport while we waited for Aslan to arrive for our flight Leewards and the Murphy's 44th Cork Film Festival. Having previously travelled with the 'Lan on trains and boats, this seemed like a perfect opportunity to complete the set, and once percussionist/vocalist Billy McGuinness arrived in Departures bare-chested (an ongoing in-band wind-up of guitarist Joe Jewell) I knew that all hope of a normal Sunday had just gone out the window.
Once established in Cork and having collected our passes from the press office in the Triskel Arts Centre, we immediately repaired to the festival club bar only to discover it recently closed and controversial thesp Alan Devlin in, well, ebullient form.
"Who are youse?" he enquired jovially before imparting the exclusive information that he's playing a drug dealer from Cabra in his next screen outing. Not that anybody had asked him or anything. Funny bunch, these actors.
The rough plan - and plans invariably become rough around Aslan - is to catch the screening in the Kino cinema (this being Cork it's a miracle it hasn't been renamed Keano) after which the band will take part in a Q...A session with the audience. Then it's off to a few receptions and see what happens.
"Back row! Back row!" is bassist Tony McGuiness' instruction as we're filing into the cinema. Eh? "I've seen this too many times already and I'm fucked if I'm looking at it again on a Sunday afternoon." Billy concurs, so with the lights down less than a minute and drummer Andy Downey not even having finished the count-in to 'Gotta Make It', there's a slight scurry at the back and soon enough the three of us are ensconced in The Thirsty Scholar, a better bet for refreshment than the furniture showroom Billy initially strolled into.
"We know that people will accuse us of milking the same set again," says Tony," and they do have a point to a degree, with a lot of the songs on Here Comes Lucy Jones turning up on the 'Best Of' less than two years later and now appearing on the live album, but it's a very different thing. The 'unplugged' gigs are completely different from when we're giving it loads on electric and we'd been plagued by people ever since we started doing them to put them out in some form or another. We were thinking of just recording a few gigs and using the tracks as b-sides or something but when the Vicar St. idea was floated we thought 'Hello. There might be a plan here!'
"Apart from anything else," adds Billy, "the way this has gone so far has not just given us another boost saleswise - although that's always handy coming up to Christmas! - but bought us breathing space while we finish the next album, which we're halfway through recording at the moment. If something is flying out of the shops then record companies don't want you anywhere near the place, and as we know from experience they're not too keen on going looking for you either! Seriously though, I honestly didn't think the live album or the video would do as well as they did, particularly the album. At the rate things are going it might even catch up with the 'Best Of', which is just mad when you think about it!"

Back in our seats in time for the closing credits, we then await the Q...A session with the audience and the spirit of Tap comes a calling yet again when just one bloke asks a question: why had they decided to include the covers of 'Angie' and 'Wish You Were Here' in the set. Childhood inspirations. Bit of diversion. Yadda-yadda let's hit the reception.
For some unknown reason the band members are taking turns trying on a fluffy white coat while all around them The Half Moon Club teems with ligging luvvies and intense auteurs.
"I reckon the reason nobody asked us any questions is because we pretty much told them everything in the film," says Christy Dignam, peering out from under a fake fur hood and looking for all the world like an eskimo who's somehow wandered into a Robert Rodriguez movie. "I like to think of the video as a two-for-the-price-of-one-job, in that you not only get a full live set but a damn good story as well. And it is a good story. I should know, I'm in it!"
The remainder of the evening is spent in spirited revelry and culminates in an impressive display of dancefloor discipline from Tony McGuiness, which is only to be expected given his status as a former Irish Roller Disco Champion. By the time the company are lolling around Departures in Cork the following day the subject somehow turns to how Aslan might possibly be able to flog the same set of songs again, when Billy and Christy hit inspiration paydirt.
"Ballads!" yells Billy and launches into a Dublin City Ramblers-ish verson of 'Crazy World', which soon has Christy stamping his foot and exploring the sean nos singer which always lurked inside him. "I have the name!" exclaims the singer. "Celtic Christy ... De Minstrels. That's the one!"
At which point Joe Jewell hoves into view with coffee in hand, is told of the plan, looks up to heaven and with a muttered "Shower of fuckin' eejits" heads back in the direction he came.
Still, with Aslan, don't rule it out. n
* Aslan play The Point on St. Stephen's Day.