Culture That Made Me: Andy Irvine on music favourites and acting with Peter Sellers

During a legendary music career, Irvine has been a member of Sweeney’s Men, Planxty, and LAPD, as well as other bands and solo ventures

Andy Irvine performs at De Barra’s in Clonakilty on Thursday, 15 September.

Andy Irvine, 80, grew up in London. His mother was from Co Antrim, his father from Glasgow. In 1951, he acted in the film A Tale of Five Cities, one of many notable stage and screen credits over the following decade. 

During a legendary music career, he has been a member of Sweeney’s Men, Planxty, and LAPD, as well as other bands and solo ventures. He will perform at De Barra’s, 9pm, Thursday, 15 September as part of the Clonakilty International Guitar Festival. 

• www.clonguitarfest.com.

Woody Guthrie

Lonnie Donegan mentioned Woody Guthrie on the back of one of his EPs. I was determined to find out who Woody Guthrie was, but the world was a far bigger place in 1957 than it is now. I couldn’t find any recordings of him. One day, I was walking past this small record store in London and I saw this album in the window and it said More Songs by Woody Guthrie & Cisco Houston. I bought it. As soon as I put it on the record player, within the first eight bars, I was hooked. It was a combination of his guitar playing and his Oklahoma accent. I got so involved in him that he became my life hero. I never lost sight of the hand of Woody Guthrie all through my life. Politically, I’ve always agreed with nearly everything that Woody had to say.

The Grapes of Wrath

I love Henry Fonda and Jane Darwell in The Grapes of Wrath. The film, which is about an Okie family travelling to California, is based on John Steinbeck’s novel. I loved it I guess because of Woody Guthrie. Woody had written a song about Tom Joad, the character played by Henry Fonda. Shortly after viewing the movie in the 1940s, Woody met John Steinbeck at a party. Steinbeck said, “You’re the guy who wrote that song about my book. I wish you’d written the song before I wrote the book. It would have saved me a whole heap of trouble.”

Twelve Angry Men

Henry Fonda and Jane Darwell in John Ford's Grapes of Wrath. 

Twelve Angry Men – which, coincidentally, also stars Henry Fonda – is quite a difficult film for a lot of people because it all takes place in the jury room of a murder trial. It’s a great story. At the beginning, Henry Fonda is the only person who raises his hand and says, “Not guilty.” The rest of them are saying, “Ah, come on, let’s get out of here.” It’s a boiling hot afternoon. One of the guys wants to get to the baseball game that evening. But eventually Henry Fonda is able to bring enough doubt into his fellow jurors’ minds. That’s the entire plot. It’s a wonderful film.

Tennessee Williams

I’ve always loved the film versions of the plays of Tennessee Williams. For example, A Streetcar Named Desire and The Rose Tattoo, with the wonderful Anna Magnani, who I thought was a great actress. The films are brilliant. They’re not relying essentially on a storyline. It’s the characters which are wonderful.

A Long Day’s Journey into Night

Eugene O’Neill’s A Long Day’s Journey into Night is a magnificent piece of theatre. It’s the most depressing play you could ever hope to watch. All O’Neill’s stuff is a bit like that. He had a difficult childhood and it just sounds in his plays like he never quite got over it.

All that jazz

In the early 60s, I loved listening to the music Miles Davis, Duke Ellington and Dave Brubeck played. I’m not sure why I loved jazz so much, but the fact that I didn’t really understand the music was part of it. I’ve always wanted to play jazz ever since, but it’s a complicated musical form. Later, I liked to listen to jazz because it didn’t have any bearing on my own music. I couldn’t be in the least bit jealous of these people.

Early Pink Floyd

Back in the late 1960s/early 1970s, I got into what they called progressive rock. I like early Pink Floyd stuff: A Saucerful of Secrets and the great album called Ummagumma. I love that album. Why did I get into Pink Floyd? The truth of the matter is that I’d given my heart to a girl from Ljubljana in Slovenia, and she was really heavy into Pink Floyd. I was led by the nose of love to listen to her music, and I loved it.

Terry Riley

I liked Terry Riley. He was a Californian who played electronic music. I discovered him because Brian Masterson – who became a great recording engineer – lived opposite me. He was ahead of me in all these things. He turned me on to Terry Riley. I loved Terry Riley’s album A Rainbow in Curved Air.

Mother Jones

Cork woman Mother Jones.  

All these people who fought for labour rights are very big heroes of mine. I’ve written a number of songs about them. Mother Jones, for example, was an extraordinary woman. Especially in the late 19th century, it wasn’t at all a woman’s place to be at protests and strikes. She became known by the people she was fighting against – corporations and the rich people – as “the most dangerous woman in America”. She was a lighthouse.

O’Donoghue’s Pub

Without O’Donoghue’s [a bar off St Stephen’s Green in Dublin], I wouldn’t be in the position I’m in today. I was more or less an apprentice musician when I first went into O’Donoghue’s. The company there was just wonderful. It was always better when The Dubliners were there and when they weren’t – when they were away on tour. I was good friends with Ronnie Drew, Ciarán Bourke and Luke Kelly. The bar was once the most important place in my life – where I did my apprenticeship.

Peter Sellers

Peter Sellers was only ever in one theatrical play and I was in it. The play we were in, Brouhaha, was a straight story, but it was a comedy as well. He was emotionally unstable. You could never tell whether he was going to be in a good mood or screaming at the producer. I was a little afraid of him. Acting with him was frightening because he was totally unpredictable. You didn’t know whether he was going to change the story in the middle of the play. He was not the man for playing eight shows a week for six months. Sometimes to entertain himself, he’d come on stage as a different character. It was terrifying.

Spanish guitar

I got a message one evening from Lionel Jeffries, who was also in the play with Peter Sellers, and he said: “Andrew, Peter would like to see you.” So I went down to his dressing room. He said: “I hear you play the guitar.” I said: “Yes, I do a little bit.” I played classical music at the time. He said: “Well, what do you think of this?”

He handed me a Spanish guitar. I played something on it. He said: “That’s lovely. What do you think of the guitar?” Actually, the guitar was crap, but I couldn’t say that so I said: “It’s beautiful.” He said: “Well, it’s yours, with my compliments.”

He apparently got it the night before at a tapas restaurant. He bought the guitar off a Spanish musician, likely to stop him playing it: “There’s only one way to stop that bastard playing music in our ear and that’s to buy the guitar off him.”