Musical Cities: An Outsider's Perspective on Shane MacGowan and the Songs that Tie Us Together
The fairytale of communal music and the cultural legacy of artists.
I was in Dublin when Shane MacGowan died. As a Canadian, I wasn’t too familiar with The Pogues’ front man, but as someone who has lived in Ireland for the better part of the last decade, I knew his passing would have an impact. Shane was seen as a sort of everyman character, and his Celtic punk bank, The Pogues, best known for songs like “Dirty Old Town” and “Fairytale of New York”, had long become woven into the cultural fabric of Ireland. So it’s no surprise that people lined the streets of Dublin as Shane’s funeral procession weaved through the city before moving to his final resting place in County Tipperary.
I was struck by the reverence toward a musician. How incredible to celebrate an artistic legacy and cultural contribution. But even more so, I was struck by how everyday people of all ages and backgrounds poured into the streets to sing Shane MacGowan’s songs long after his casket had passed by. Days later and friends are sharing clips of songs from the funeral. At a local cocktail bar, the club-style music is paused for a rendition of “Fairytale of New York”, where the entire venue sings along at top volume. Murals of Shane are in the works, likely to go alongside the ones of Sinead O’Connor in Dublin City Center, who we sadly also lost this past year.
However, perhaps I shouldn’t be so surprised at this. After all, Ireland is a country with a musical legacy. Yet, as a Canadian, I feel disappointed that we don’t celebrate our artists and cultural icons in the same way. Even our greatest, say Leonard Cohen or Gord Downie, for example, didn’t generate this type of celebration upon their passings. Depressingly, the only public processions seem to be those for the Stanley Cup — an inanimate object — and not for any of Canada’s most beloved and unifying cultural or artistic contributors.
I remember my first Christmas spent in Ireland. It’s an open secret that some of Ireland’s most famous musicians busk on Dublin’s Grafton Street on Christmas eve with proceeds going to charity. It’s usually the likes of Bono, Hozier, Glen Hansard, Imelda May, etc, etc…. The year I attended, all the musicians joined on stage for one final song, which happened to be “Fairytale of New York” — an Irish holiday favourite. Everyone in the crowd sang along and it was magical. I, of course, didn’t know all the words, but nonetheless felt part of the moment. It got me thinking about songs that define cities and countries. Ireland is rich for these types of things, but so are other parts of the world. Think about American folk music, New Orleans jazz, or the California Surf sound.
As someone originally from Atlantic Canada, I’m well aware of the Canadian East Coast’s contribution. Newfoundland is recognized for its traditional songs, while Halifax in the 90s was called ‘the Seattle of the North’ thanks to the stream of rock, grunge, and alternative bands that launched out of the city during that time. The East Coast Music Awards used to be a big deal nationally, and trad bands like The Rankin Family and Stan Rogers regularly had radio play once upon a time. So what happened?
I think most Nova Scotian’s will know a few verses of Stan Rogers’ famous song “Barrett’s Privateers” (a song synonymous with N.S.) by heart, and yet no one ever sings it unless you’ve gone specifically to see a cover band that performs these sorts of songs. Yet in Ireland, I’ve been out for a few drinks with pals and people will just randomly break into song. Once the barman lead us all in a rendition of Brendan Behan’s “The Old Triangle”. Recently, a friend asked if Canadians ever have what he referred to as ‘sing-songs’. This is apparently when, usually after a big party like a wedding or large event, people will just break into song. I admitted Canadians don’t do this wort of thing, but that it sounded genuinely lovely.
Perhaps this is why I love cover bands so much. In Canada, it’s the closest thing to this sort of sing-song tradition. And there is something so magical about a room full of strangers now united through singing in unison, knowing all the same tunes. Where else but in Canada can a band plunk out those first few recognizable notes of The Tragically Hip’s “New Orleans is Sinking” and instantly make an entire room of people prepare themselves to sing along from the very first verse? That’s genuinely something special, and I think every city and country has music like this — it’s part of the cultural identity of that place, and it binds its people together.
I worry, though, that outside of Ireland this idea is dying. I recently saw that my favourite East Coast cover band bar has been voted best dance venue, thanks to the growing popularity among younger people of its second floor where a DJ plays the generic hot 100. Sure this seems like a small detail, but it’s hard to deny there have been big changes in how we listen and relate to music. Just look at the popular Spotify Wrapped report that nearly everyone shares online. It’s basically a list of your top songs and artists for the year, along with other details like how many minutes of music you listened to on the Spotify app. The thing that strikes me about this is just how individualized music has become. No longer are we waiting for album releases, lining up at record stores, or having listening parties with our friends. It’s all about singles, hits, and being able to jump around between different songs at any moment. Even listing the number of minutes we listen to music makes the it feel more like a solo activity akin to counting steps on a pedometer or saved pennies in a piggybank.
With much of society moving online and becoming highly personalized, we are inadvertently losing large parts of our community culture. I think perhaps the only exception to this is Taylor Swift. Her incredible fan base rallies around new album releases and I’ve known local bars and restaurants to host album listening parties for the public. However, Swift likely drives some of this community through her hints and easter eggs surrounding unannounced albums and release dates. Her manor of presenting her new music drives a communal fanbase that in turn keeps Swift a part of a larger community. It’s never been only about just the hits and singles with Swift, and most fans of hers will list a ton of deep cut tracks as their favs. I’m not sure if this was intentional on her part or not, but Swift’s community has driven songs never released as singles to the top of the charts. It really feels like a last bastion of the old days when people would clamour to listen to a new album and bond over that shared experience.
But back to Ireland and why it’s been able to maintain its community and cultural connection through music. For some reason it doesn’t appear to be falling to the same fate as other places in our increasingly online world. I don’t think it’s some magical trick or an unusual exception, but I do think it’s a choice. Any given night in Dublin or Galway or Cork you can find a free live band in a pub, or join a trad session, or heck there’s even a free weekly ukulele night where you walk in, get handed a ukulele, and join a room full of people clumsily strumming the latest hits in unison. People get excited about music and art and festivals in Ireland. And most importantly, it’s largely supported by the government. Even the president is a professional poet!
I then look back at Atlantic Canada and I see such a vibrant and unique musical legacy thats quickly fading. So many annual free concerts and large festivals have either disappeared or have been downsized significantly. As the giants of the industry leave us, there aren’t as many new people coming up behind them — and this isn’t because of lack of talent! Is this also a choice? Is it lack of support from those in power to give it? Or is it a general disappearing community tie through music?
Regardless of the answer, I encourage you to share an album with someone. Go to a gig with friends. Or even just listen to an artist’s discography in its entirety — preferably someone from your own ‘hometown’ (whatever that term means to you).
I was in a tiny pub in Dublin recently and got chatting to the bartender about how often Nova Scotia is mentioned in songs. I brought up Carly Simon’s “You’re So Vain”, and he mentioned The Proclaimers’ “Letters to America”. Funny how we were an ocean away, talking about two non-Canadian performers, and yet the tiny east coast province has left an impression. It really feels like the future of my hometown could be missing out on something special. Ah but perhaps that’s most places these days. It’s just the fairytale of modern musical cities.
