Culture That Made Me: Johnny Logan talks Led Zeppelin, Hercule Poirot, and his dad
Johnny Logan has recorded a charity version of Driving Home For Christmas.
Johnny Logan, 67, was born in Melbourne, Australia. He’s the son of Patrick O’Hagan, a famous Irish tenor. The family moved back to Ireland when Logan was three years old, living in Howth, Co Dublin and later Drogheda, Co Louth. Logan won the Eurovision Song Contest in 1980, singing Shay Healy’s song, What’s Another Year. It transformed Logan’s life. Known as 'Mr Eurovision', he’s the only person to have won the competition three times. Bohemian FC fans still sing his 1987 Eurovision winner Hold Me Now at Dalymount Park matches. His version of the Christmas classic Driving Home for Christmas, which he recorded with the Irish Chamber Orchestra (ICO), is raising funds for the Parkinson’s Association of Ireland and ICO’s free education programmes.
When I was 14, I toured New Zealand with my dad because he had rheumatoid arthritis. I helped him dress each night in a tux for the gig. Then he'd go on and do two hours of Irish music with a piano player. Every night, I watched him playing to these sell-out theatres all over the north and south islands of New Zealand. It's around then that I kind of absorbed it all. I was no different to any other kid. I had medals for hurling and Gaelic football, but from the time I was a child I was hearing melodies in my head when out walking the boreens around Howth.
I went to see Led Zeppelin play at the National Stadium in 1971. I walked from Drogheda to Dublin. There was a bus strike at the time. I didn't intend to walk. I was thumbing, but nobody gave me a lift. After the gig that night, I had nowhere to go. I slept in doorways and made my way back to Drogheda the next day, but it was worth it. I can remember sitting up in the stand, watching Robert Plant and Jimmy Page, being totally mesmerised – watching Jimmy playing guitar with a violin bow.
Growing up, I used to listen to the same bands my friends listened to – Black Sabbath, Deep Purple – but then I drifted more into people like Neil Young. You could say it was my self-absorbed phase, my teenage angst. I started writing songs. They were all very deep and meaningful. I remember Brush Shiels saying to me once: “Why do you keep writing those dirges, man?” But at the end of the day, it gave me a perspective on songwriting: where the chorus should be; where the verses should be – the basic rules of songwriting. As I grew older, I learned to be more self-critical.
There are two instances in my life which influenced my career. I remember doing a charity show with Danny La Rue in London. I wore a lovely suit doing it. Afterwards Danny came to me and he said, “You know, Johnny. We're not in business, we're in showbusiness. When people come to concerts to see artists, they want to see something that they don't see in the office. So always remember that and try to dress accordingly.”
The second lesson I learned was from Boy George. We did a TV show together in Belgium. George being Irish, we kinda gravitated towards each other, having dinners together and stuff. The evening of the TV show, he was wearing this outrageous hat, this huge thing. I teased him. I said: “You’re gonna get noticed in that.” He looked at me very seriously and said: “That's the idea.” I thought to myself: OK, point taken. It was a different way of saying the same thing that Danny said to me.
When I was young, my wife bought me a music voucher and with it I got the first Thin Lizzy album with Brian Downey and Eric Bell on it. I have remained a huge Phil Lynott fan all my life. I was lucky enough to get to know him a little bit before he passed away. You had to see him in concert. Phil used to walk out on stage, with the bass strung around his neck; the legs would separate in front of the microphone. Whatever “it” is, he had it. That’s what I wanted.
My father knew Shay Healy before I did, as Shay had been a cameraman in RTÉ. That’s what we talked about when we first met. I met Shay at the Castlebar Song Contest and he said I have a song that I put in for the national song contest called What’s Another Year and if it gets in, I’d like you to sing it. Shay was very bright. His only advice to me during the Eurovision finals was: ”Don't look at the camera. Just sing the song. Let the camera find you.” That's because he was a cameraman. I had to look like a 24-year-old boy in a white suit lost on stage. He realized that lost look of being totally isolated and alone would work in favour of the song. He was right. It did.
I’m a big biography fan. I love David Niven’s memoirs, The Moon’s a Balloon and Bring on the Empty Horses. The title Bring on the Empty Horses came from an Italian director who couldn't speak English properly. When he wanted riderless horses on set he would shout, “Bring on the empty horses.” He noticed that Niven and Errol Flynn were laughing. He turned to them and said, “You think I know nothing, but I know fuck all.” The books are full of great one-liners like that.
Growing up, I read all of Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot books. I'm still fascinated with Hercule Poirot to this day. I’m lucky enough to have met Peter Ustinov who was famous for portraying him. We did a TV show together in Germany. He’s one of the few famous people I introduced myself to off air. I said, “Mr Ustinov, I have to tell you: I'm a huge Hercule Poirot fan.” He put on the Hercule Poirot voice and talked to me as Poirot, doing the eyebrow movements. I was chuffed.
I love black-and-white movies. I love Jimmy Stewart. I still watch It’s a Wonderful Life every Christmas. I love the innocence, the fact that the angel appeared to him and he got to see how much his life affected everybody else. The scene at the end always makes me get choked up. He finally realises that he's got his life back. It’s a lovely movie. It makes me feel good.
