Punk’s not dead, though it does have a rather worrying cough. A writers festival in Doolin, Co Clare is not somewhere I’d expect to come in contact with a living embodiment of the Irish chapter of the cacophonous counter-culture musical clash that took a hold on 1970s Belfast.
Terri Hooley is already entitled to a bus pass in the North and he’ll be eligible for one down here soon, but there’s no way I’d discuss that with him in person. His tongue is even sharper than his wit and it can inflict more damage than a large sausage of semtex.
In the darkest days of Northern Ireland’s history, Hooley opened a record shop on Belfast’s Great Victoria Street. In an impressive display of optimism and/or a characteristic flash of dark humour, he called the place Good Vibrations. His hope was that music would cut through divisions in the city; fittingly, the shop was to become much more than a place where people bought records.
Not only did Good Vibrations became an independent punk record label, it represented something much deeper than the underground musical movement.
Teenage Kicks by The Undertones was the most notable Good Vibrations cut, an outstanding piece of popular music that achieved legendary status when the BBC's John Peel was so taken by it, he played it twice in a row on-air. Peel declared The Undertones tune as his favourite song of all time. It was played at his funeral, and his head-stone bears the line: "Teenage dreams so hard to beat".
Hooley had returned to Belfast after hitting numerous record companies in London with the track and received nothing but negative responses. The night Peel played it twice, Hooley cried his eyes out. Undertones drummer Billy Doherty reckons that if it wasn’t for Terri, the world would never have heard the song. That’d be an impressive enough legacy, but Hooley is a restless beast.
Blackstaff Press published Hooleygan: Music, Mayhem and Good Vibrations in 2010. Two years later a film version of Hooley's life story was released, with Richard Dormeras the irrepressible rapscallion. The film had its American premiere at SXSW last year and has been winning over audiences and critics all over the world since. Good Vibrations has become a favourite at international film festivals, while at home it picked up the Best Irish Feature Award at the Galway Film Fleadh.
So just what was Hooley doing at Doolin Writers Weekend? Reading from his book or introducing the film? Nah. He was DJing at the do once the books had been shelved for the night. Outside, over a rollie and a cough, Terri told me that he had always seen music as a way of crossing cultural divides. the set he was going to play at the festival would reflect this.
“Something like what Don Letts did with punk and reggae in the UK?” I naively asked, foolishly trying to impress him. “Fuck no! Nothing like that boring bastard”.
Earlier that evening there had been a reading from writer and poet Theo Dorgan, something I found surprisingly enjoyable. This kind of beano wouldn't usually be my bag; as if to highlight this, I actually ironed a shirt for the occasion. Dorgan's stories and verse had an easing and calming effect, making me feel at home. He read some extracts that detailed nuns smoking joints and fellas making bodhráns from dogs; the perfect preparation for my encounter with Terri later that night.
This was Hooley’s second appearance at Doolin Writers Weekend. He’d scandalised one of the more strait-laced audience members last year and she insultingly enquired as to what kind of rock he’d crawled out from under. She got an appropriate response: “A punk rock.”
Safe travels, don't die.
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