On
St. Patrick's Day, 1985, I chucked in rock and roll forever. I
returned to the theater and, for the next four years, wrote, and
directed or produced five plays (published under the title MAD
ANGELS). In the summer of 1989, while on a
tour of Eastern Europe with the poet Copernicus, we played an
unauthorized concert in Prague for HAVEL'S dissidents. Over
12,000 people showed up to defy the authorities. It was a small
victory but it made me realize that rock music could still effect
social and political change.
Back in New York, I walked into Paddy Reilly's, a dilapidated
saloon. CHRIS BYRNE was
playing uilleann pipes with a local folk group, BEYOND THE PALE.
I sat in for a few numbers and afterwards we got to talking about
the lack of content in contemporary music. He told me he was a
cop and loved The Clash and rap music. I have no idea what I said
to him but six hours and some gallons later, we formed BLACK
'47.
Chris had a brainwave! Why not fulfill BEYOND THE PALE'S dates?
This was a lot easier said than done since Irish bands did four
or more sets a night. But nothing ventured - nothing gained! I
had a batch of originals and wrote out some skeletal
arrangements; I also plundered my memory for anything from the
reggae of Marley to the thrash of Belfast's "Gloria."
Chris supplied a legion of jigs, reels, slides and hornpipes
which I barbarized with feedback and boombox beats. Then girding
our loins, we headed to the Bronx and disaster.
Our first gig was a benefit where we opened for political
activist Bernadette Devlin-McAliskey. I was playing electric
guitar, programming a drum machine and Chris was wailing on the
pipes, various whistles and bodhran. We laid into the audience
with a fury inspired by fear of failure. After about fifteen
minutes, someone roared out: "For Christ's sakes, play an
Irish song!" To which I replied, "I'm from Ireland. I
wrote the song, that makes it Irish. So shut the fuck up!"
Thus was Black 47's reputation for confrontation born. Fighting
words, indeed, but not particularly pragmatic, as we were fired
from that and every succeeding gig. After four months, things
were looking bleak. We had exhausted New York's large selection
of Irish bars. But the word had spread that there was a band,
unlike any other who played original music and refused to
patronize their audiences. Round about this time, Paddy Reilly's
bar was doing so badly even the cockroaches were jumping ship; as
a last resort, we were hired for a three week residency.
Finally, we had a central location; our small followings from the
Bronx, Brooklyn and Queens arrived en masse and we turned the
joint on its ear. From that night on, we never looked back and we
have since taken our music, message and attitude to many's the
kip, brothel, pub, club, concert hall and stadium in the U.S.
I had worked with FRED PARCELLS
in various bands and when he heard about BLACK 47, he showed up
with his trombone. A graduate of Berklee College of Music, he had
played everything from big band to country. We still haven't
asked him to join --I suppose it's a bit late now. But I still
remember the thrill of hearing the pipes and trombone play their
first mournful / exhilarating line together. A Celtic / New
Orleans marching band on-stage in the Bronx? Where would it all
lead?
GEOFFREY BLYTHE is from
Birmingham, England. A founding member of DEXY'S MIDNIGHT RUNNERS
and sideman to many, including ELVIS COSTELLO, he is a fanatical
saxophonist as well as a brilliant arranger. He had recently
returned from London and his wife mentioned he was going up the
walls for want of a gig. I told her to send him on down. He
jumped in off the deep end and instantly added muscle, flair and
experience to an already innovative brass/pipes section.
Back then, we advertised as a four piece and occasionally Fred
would take romantic and/or musical sabbaticals. Needing an extra
member, I often called THOMAS HAMLIN,
my old drummer from the MAJOR THINKERS. Hammy had also quit rock
and roll and was experimenting with African and Latin rhythms.
This brought an entirely new dimension to the band - as if the
poor punters weren't confused enough already. One day, on Fred's
return, the intrepid percussionist announced that he wasn't
leaving. Thus we became five.
We have been complimented by many wonderful bass players. ANDREW
GOODSIGHT joined in February, 1995,
replacing Kevin Jenkins who left following the van crash outside
Providence, RI. (see Green Suede Shoes
for Details.) Andrew has btoughr a rare enthusiasm, as well as
formidable musicianship, to the band. Thank you, brother.
Those first years were a daze of sweaty, sexy, booze-driven
marathons. Luckily, we were all experienced improvisers because
when you're doing over 200 gigs a year, there is little time and
no inclination for rehearsal. I would write the song, suggest an
outline and we would perform it that night. Over the next weeks
or months, we would perfect our parts. Since the arrangements are
porous, the songs are constantly reinterpreted - each player has
the freedom to "take it away" should the spirit move
him. We didn't use set lists, we bopped till we dropped and gave
110% each and every night. The low and the mighty rubbed
shoulders. It wasn't unusual to see Joe Strummer, Neil Young,
Liam Neesan, Brooke Shields or Matt Dillon lift glasses with
revolutionaries, cops, barmaids, politicians, gay activists,
bookies and a dizzying kaleidoscope of New Yorkers.
We released a C.D. and it sold by the bucketful.
The word spread to Boston, Chicago and San Francisco and we
toured regularly. Our first big break came when John Anderson of Newsday
wrote a three-page uncensored article on the band which almost
got us all killed. The lines snaked around the corner of
Reilly's, and a multitude of record companies showed up, eager to
categorize, compartmentalize, sign, seal, and deliver us to the
great American public.
Ric Ocasek materialized one night and claimed he could fulfill
the songs better than the Independent C.D. We cut FIRE
OF FREEDOM in a frantic three weeks, released the single FUNKY
CEILI, did a video and were added to MTV in
two shakes of a ram's tail. We were covered by every magazine
from Playgirl to Time
and hit the road in search of Fame and America. Every pundit in
the music industry said we should stop playing Reilly's for fear
we'd be known as a bar band. But we had other things on our mind,
like feeding our families by playing regularly, staying close to
our roots and keeping independence because, in the long run, it's
not where you play, it's what you play and how.
When it comes down to it, it's the songs that count! It would
have been simple to do a Fire of Freedom Part 2. Perhaps, it
would have been safer. But then there were new themes to tackle,
new heroes to invent or rediscover, and new sounds to paint with.
On HOME OF THE BRAVE, songs like Oh
Maureen, Blood Wedding, Black Rose, Road To Ruin, Too Late To
Turn Back and Danny Boy
deal with characters who peopled the urban frontier of the lower
east side I used to live in; while Big Fellah
and Born To Be Free
concerned giants like Michael Collins and Paul Robeson. Time
To Go was Chris Byrne's powerful songwriting
debut on a major label.
We have just completed a new album, GREEN
SUEDE SHOES, which was released last October. In a way,
it's a look back, if not a return, to our roots. I produced this
one and did my level best to capture the live sound of BLACK 47.
I think, of all four albums, this is the closest to that sweaty,
claustrophobic, passionate, live ideal. The songs include some of
the best that I've written. One in particular, BOBBY
SANDS MP, I've been trying to evoke for
almost 15 years. With the advent of a fragile peace in the North
of Ireland, the song finally, and even painfully, evolved. We're
gradually breaking in all 13 songs on stage. I hope you come see
us soon and get a chance to hear them in their infancy.
In an age of repetitious whining and self-conscious mediocrity,
Black 47 is proud of its roots, its heritage, and remains as
unique and unclassifiable as on that first stormy night in the
Bronx.