There are many surprises within 20th Century Paddy, a huge multi-artist tribute album in honour of the late, beloved Shane MacGowan, but one of the most surprising things about it is that it has never been recorded before. Its 36 tracks span his whole career, from the Pogues’ current incarnation breathing faithfully joyous life into his early rock and roll single ‘Gabrielle’ to Bob Geldof radically reworking the birdsongy repetition of 1997’s underrated ‘St. John of Gods’ into a noirish, paranoiac monologue over creeping jazz.
MacGowan was a writer of such talent that practically everything he gave us in between feels suited to reinterpretation. We begin with a heartrending Bruce Springsteen carrying the heft of ‘A Rainy Night in Soho’ across a piano-led arrangement until sweeping strings break over it like a sunrise. Like MacGowan, Springsteen understands that the most moving sentiments are rooted in truth, and he inhabits the lyrics as though he’s lived them.
Still, the rock acts on this record know better than to sit in reflection over 36 tracks. The Libertines fill ‘Sayonara’ with singalong spirit, while the Jesus and Mary Chain ladle alternative-dance swagger onto ‘I’ll Be Your Handbag’ and U2 eschew grandiosity for their cute, carefree ‘Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah’.
Startlingly, Primal Scream transform ‘A Pair of Brown Eyes’ – MacGowan’s masterfully sensitive story of a young man’s heartbreak and an old man’s PTSD abrading against one another in a bar – from a weary waltz to an indie-pop jaunt. But the winding melody and wounding lyrics cut through with a strength perhaps even greater for the contrast.
LYRA’s reimagining of ‘Streets of Sorrow/Birmingham Six’ as thumping movie-trailer pop is a similarly drastic shift, but the political charge of its lyrics grows all the starker for it. Then there’s Kate Moss’s magnificent take on ‘Lonesome Highway’. It could easily be the work of a 60s girl group, her deadpan-ethereal vocals floating above a foggy wall of sound.
MacGowan’s work may translate deftly between genres, but 20th Century Paddy also makes a watertight case for his recognition as a major folk songwriter. While the Pogues’ discography is a pick ‘n’ mix of traditional tunes and other offerings, this collection lets his own songs stand together at last. Many contributions come from those who counted him as a friend, whether that’s Tom Creagh and his arrestingly immediate ‘Paddy Public Enemy No. 1’ or the much-missed Glen Hansard roaring through ‘Bottle of Smoke’ with an energy which rivals the racehorse of the title.
Johnny Mac and the Faithful’s ‘Fiesta’ is as riotous and communal as can be, evoking the cocktail lounge and the football stadium in equal measure. The High Kings’ ‘Streams of Whiskey’ and Damien Dempsey’s ‘Sally MacLennane’ would make a perfect double A-side, bounding along with all the abandon of hares in spring.
Even the gentlest tracks (a radio-perfect ‘Aisling’ from Picture This, the late Moya Brennan’s soothing-as-warm-milk ‘Mother Mo Chroi’) feel as though they have been floating around in the collective imagination forever. But to emphasise MacGowan’s timeless melodies is to risk overlooking the specific genius of his lyricism, of its compassionate attention to character and setting – most famously in the immortal ‘Fairytale of New York’.
How extraordinary that a ballad about two once-hopeful immigrants tearing one another apart over the bones of the American Dream should be the UK’s most-played Christmas song of this century. And how wonderful that towering Irish talents Hozier and Jessie Buckley have done it such justice. To have an actor sing MacColl’s part is an inspired decision – Buckley’s forthright, tuneful folky flutter brings the character alive as Hozier lends his Celtic croon to her damaged lover.
‘Fairytale of New York’ is far from MacGowan’s only song about the other side of the pond, and who better than American punks the Dropkick Murphys to light a fire under ‘The Body of an American’? In a far more melancholy mode, Jimmy Artache replaces the gritty rage of ‘USA’ with bittersweet disappointment, building to a tragic conclusion; ‘It’s the same wherever you go’.
That might be so, but brotherly duo Cronin belt out ‘London You’re a Lady’, which anthropomorphises the city with a lover’s tenderness, like Elvis singing for his life. As the song draws to a close, we hear a sample of MacGowan speaking about how London’s multicultural richness gives the city its soul.
In unsentimental contrast, the wryly hilarious ‘Rain Street’ gets an infectious jangle-pop treatment courtesy of Lisa Moorish & Another Day. Immediately following it we have YouTuber Gareth Noone’s terrifically good-natured cover of ‘White City’, touching up a portrait of London’s White City district until it glows.
To hear MacGowan’s words sung in such a variety of voices is to discover brand new dimensions within them. One of the most affecting tracks on the record sees Steve Earle stripping back ‘If I Should Fall from Grace with God’ into a blues lament which sounds as if it could have been performed by American roadsides for a hundred years. The result – Earle’s soulful sandpaper growl slipping and sliding between syllables over a bright, faltering web of guitar – seems to halt time for its brief duration.
There are delightful pockets of humour in these new versions, too. Pinch of Snuff take a barrelling, bonkers ride on the ‘Donegal Express’ at a pace which scarcely allows them to pause for breath. Elsewhere, Tom Waits’ gorgeously bizarre ‘Summer in Siam’ manages, like so much of both his and MacGowan’s work, to be both beautiful and funny.
One of the many exciting things about 20th Century Paddy is that a good handful of MacGowan’s tales of money, desire, and drink are sung here by women. Lisa O’Neill, who performed ‘Fairytale of New York’ alongside Glen Hansard and the Pogues at MacGowan’s funeral, contributes a version of ‘Dark Streets of London’. In her earthy voice the song takes on a weather-worn toughness, becoming a rueful recount rather than a stomping celebration.
And there is a keen poignancy to the closing track. Originally a duet between MacGowan and Moya Brennan, the romantic ballad ‘You’re the One’ becomes a solo piece sung by Camille O’Sullivan. It is as warm as an embrace with its softly played piano and train-whistles of flute, but there is a voice missing; there will always be a voice missing. Fare thee well, Shane MacGowan. We shall not look upon your like again.
50% of artist royalties from 20th Century Paddy – The Songs of Shane MacGowan will be donated to Dublin Simon Community, providing vital care and support for those experiencing homelessness.
20th Century Paddy – The Songs of Shane MacGowan is out Friday 13th November via Rubyworks Records – pre-order here
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Review by Poppy Bristow
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