Culture That Made Me: Ronan Collins on black music, The Beatles, and Larry Gogan
Ronan Collins presents the nation's most popular music show on weekdays on RTÉ 1.
Ronan Collins, 69, grew up in Glasnevin, Dublin. He was a drummer for showbands such as The Others and Dickie Rock. In 1979, he joined RTÉ as a radio DJ, as part of the Radio 2 launch team, later switching to Radio 1. The Ronan Collins Show, which has the biggest listenership of any radio music show on the island of Ireland, is on weekdays at noon, RTÉ Radio 1.
When The Beatles came along I was only about 12 years old. I was perfect fodder for being influenced by pop music. Liverpool wasn't far away from Ireland. There just seemed to be a connection with them. They were ordinary. They didn't look like Elvis. They didn't look like pop stars. They didn't look like film stars. Just four fellas. That appealed. It happened to be The Beatles; it could have been anybody.
But The Beatles were head and shoulders above anybody else because they had their own songs. The songs were straightforward: boy meets girl. Boy falls in love. Boy falls out of love. Girl meets somebody else. It was extraordinarily melodic, very tuneful and played with great simplicity. Sometimes – as I later found out – the simple things are the hardest to play.
A large part of my introduction to music was through my sister's record collection of early Motown. I remember she had a self-titled Four Tops LP. It was fantastic. It seemed to me at the time that nobody else knew about them except my sister and her boyfriend and me. The sound was phenomenal. It was different to Elvis. It was different to the Beatles. It was my introduction to black music and soul music. It was unbelievably good.
There was so many different facets of music in the 1960s. I remember hearing Taj Mahal, a blues guitar player and singer, and thinking he was amazing. It was only later I learned he was a follow-on to the great bluesmen. If you had to put a tag on it, he was pop blues rather than pure blues. He was a guitar player of great note. He’s still alive.
As far back as I can remember, I loved The Chieftains. When they came along, I thought they were something very special. At the time, I'd more than a passing interest in American swing bands – Tommy Dorsey, Glenn Miller, Benny Goodman, all those American big bands.
When I heard The Chieftains, I thought that they could swing just as good as any of those American bands, but it was playing traditional Irish music. But by God, could they swing? They just have a natural rhythm to them.
There's a track by Christy Moore on his Ordinary Man album called St Brendan’s Voyage. Dónal Lunny and Liam O’Flynn play on it. It's a Christy Moore kind of track with the bodhrán and Christy’s voice and Christy playing on the guitar. When it comes towards the end, the last third of it, Liam O'Flynn comes in on the pipes and Dónal Lunny starts to really work on his bouzouki. It really swings. An uilleann piper swinging is a magical thing.
American swing bands come out of Louis Armstrong and the great Dixieland jazz bands. I was lucky to travel to countries in the Horn of Africa. I heard them play their version of rock music, their contemporary music.
When I was in Addis Ababa. I was listening to this band with two guitar players, a keyboard player, a drummer, a percussionist and singers. I could have been listening to those great English ska reggae bands like The Selecter or The Beat. It's all black music. And it’s extraordinary! It’s unbelievable.
There’s nobody to match Larry Gogan as a radio presenter. Larry brought the music to you with enthusiasm, with great gusto. He had such a great way, and a great passion and knowledge for music. He just loved the whole game.
I was lucky enough to meet him, to get to know him. We became great, great friends. He was the epitome – in this country – of the messenger of music. Larry never got in the way. It wasn't about Larry. It was about the music.
Brendan Balfe was also a great radio presenter. He was like a magpie in the manner in which he compiled things. He’d pick things from hither, thither and yon and put them together seamlessly. Whether they were social documentaries or entertainment documentaries or music documentaries, he was very, very good. The style that he did them in doesn't exist anymore. He was a guy that I would have fed off through the years because I was lucky enough to work with him. He was exceptional.
John Bowman is amazing. He takes very serious subjects and makes them very amenable. If you hear John Bowman on Sunday mornings on RTÉ Radio One, what he gets into 28 minutes is unbelievable. He's a brilliant communicator. I've been lucky to be around people like him at the same time in my career.
In relatively recent times, I remember seeing Donal McCann in the Gate Theatre in Sebastian Barry’s The Steward of Christendom. It was 1995. I knew Donal McCann through my old mentor Bill O’Donovan, who was very friendly with Donal. I used to meet Donal the odd time. He was a wonderful character.
To see Donal portraying this man, becoming this man in The Steward of Christendom was the most extraordinary thing I ever saw on stage in my life. I was delighted to see a revival with Owen Roe – in Donal’s role – this summer.
I met Sebastian Barry a few times. I knew his mother – Joan O’Hara, the actress – from being in here in RTÉ. When I was introduced to Sebastian Barry, I remember saying, “I know your mother.” He was fascinated by this: “Really?” We talked about his mother. One day, he came along and asked, “Would you mind if you were one of the subjects of my new play? I have a story about two subjects who are in jail and they have a radio and they listen to Ronan Collins.”
The play is On Blueberry Hill. For me to be even mentioned in something as fantastic as the writings of Sebastian Barry is a great thrill.
