It was called Shellshock Rock, John T. Davis's grainy celluloid account of a different explosive device being detonated in the North in the 1970s - music. While London punk had kicked out against targets such as the monarchy, the Callaghan government and unrehabilitated hippies, punk ran up against sectarianism when it hit Belfast, only to spit in its face and continue on its way. John T. Davis's classic film documentary is now on the syllabus of many a laboured Media Studies course as living, whirling proof that music and culture can combine, and combust. Davis's film captured a city in its darkest hours in the late 1970s: mindless sectarian murders, no warning bombs and other assorted acts of random cruelty. But down in the basements of the bars, a Belfast beat was upping its tempo as band after band read the simple and easy-to-follow DIY manual of punk rock.
The same city which had, because of the Troubles, undergone a bigger displacement of population than any other city in Europe since the second World War, with young people leaving in droves, was churning out bands such as Stiff Little Fingers, Rudi, The Starjets, Protex, Big Self, The Male Caucasians, Ruefrex . . .
A small army of sociologists, trailed by television camera crews, descended on Belfast to investigate this "phenomenon". Was this music born out of adversity? Did it transcend the sectarian divide? Do you write songs about the British "occupation"? Are you Protestant or Catholic?
As if anybody cared. It was, after all, only rock'n'roll. Most bands simply ignored the Troubles, so it was a thankless task looking for political sub-texts in the lyrics. It turned out the songs being sung in that small corner of a small country were the same songs being sung elsewhere around the world. And besides, it was difficult to get anything to rhyme with "power-sharing executive". But a change is coming over, although not in the immediate Ash vicinity, as singer/songwriter Tim Wheeler explains: "We've been brought up with this bizarre situation around us," he says "and we just think, like many others think, `why should we write songs about the situation in the North? What's the point?' That's certainly how I feel now and maybe that will change with time, maybe not . . . I just get sick and tired of people in Britain or wherever asking me about `the tanks on the street'. In Downpatrick?"
West of the Bann (tellingly), the situation was and is a bit different: while bands such as The Undertones and The Moondogs were happy to write about "chocolate and girls", they were gradually developing a more ambivalent attitude to addressing the political context in which they lived. Towards the end of their career, The Undertones managed to sneak in some coded references to the H-Block hunger strikes (without radio or television catching on) on a song called It's Going To Happen and when the band fragmented into a new band called That Petrol Emotion, they used political quotes from Gerry Adams on the artwork of their singles.
A city that has always enjoyed a high level of impressive artistic activity in proportion to its population, Derry, now boasts a clutch of good new bands in Schtum, Scheer, Rare and Cuckoo. These last, a four-piece hard-hitting rock band, are signed to the Geffen label - the same label which oversaw Nirvana's success. Taught to play guitar and once managed by different members of The Undertones, Cuckoo's Andrew Ferris pointedly alludes to his age: "I'm 21, so I've grown up with the Troubles and being immersed in it makes it more difficult to be objective about it. Having said that, we're just a rock band and we're happier answering questions about our musical influences - we're more Pixies and Nirvana than Blur and Oasis. Maybe as things change, we'll have more to say about the situation."
There are, indeed, signs of a slow change in the attitude of Northern musicians to the peculiar environment which produced them. And as the peace process trundles along, already there are experts in the field of Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome talking about how "denial" during the Troubles operated as a coping device and how the next few years could signal a massive feeling of anger as catharsis sets in.
The avowedly "apathetic" Ash shared a stage with David Trimble and John Hume to canvass for a "Yes" vote in the Good Friday Agreement referendum - and for a band who have always studiously involved any mention of politics, they issued a highly emotional statement about what growing up in the Troubles meant to teenagers like them. Neil Hannon (aka The Divine Comedy) has long been considered a foppish, Wildean performer/writer but on his new album he addresses the nature of his Northern Irish upbringing for the first time in his five-album career. Born in Derry but brought up in Enniskillen, Hannon is the son of the Bishop of Clogher. "My father was going to be involved in the service that was to take place the day of the 1989 Enniskillen Remembrance Sunday bombing and he came upon the scene driving to the service," Hannon remembers. "It's shocking in a sense - but then again, it was happening all over Northern Ireland. I've never been the man to ask about the Troubles because it depressed me so much I shut it out. I've never written about it until now, in a song called Sunrise on the new album, because there finally seems to be some hope . . . "
Similarly, in his most recent interview with this paper, Therapy?'s Andy Cairns said: "It's only now that I'm able to face things I'd repressed about growing up in the North - like the guy on our estate who joined the RUC, he lived seven doors down from me and one night I heard a gunshot and he had shot himself dead in front of his girlfriend. Or the mother of one of my old girlfriends who was left completely blind when the office she worked in was blown up by the IRA. I want to go back to Belfast now and write there, write about what happened - because I've a lot of shit inside me that I've yet to haul out."
Readers' offer
We have 15 pairs of tickets to give away for these Olympia concerts: A. Hot House Flowers, October 17th. B. Gomez, October 22nd. To apply,send this coupon plus a self-addressed envelope to: Olympia Readers' Offer, The Irish Times, Promotions Dept, 10-16 D'Olier St, Dub- lin 2, by first post Tuesday, October 13th. Mark your offer preference on the outer envelope. Tickets will be posted to the first 15 entrants, drawn at random, for each draw.
