Tom Dunne: The Golden Horde and a lost album that's worth a fortune
Simon Carmody and the Golden Horde.
Lost albums, what are they really? You say “lost” but it is streaming, and you can buy a deluxe vinyl online, with 632 previously unreleased demoes. Plus, the singer was in The Workman’s Club last week with merch. Hardly “lost” is it? You really mean “not talked about enough.”
But the Golden Horde’s self-titled debut? That is lost. You might find the occasional track streaming via a compilation album – mine, he said modestly – but the entire album? Forget it. It is not on any streaming service. It’s as if it never existed.
As for buying a copy: When I had the idea to write this, a week ago, the CD was changing hands on Discogs for €75. But today, when I checked, that had risen to between €119 and €125. Interestingly, some of you probably have a copy, resting on a dusty shelf. I’d seek it out if I was you.
It’s a fitting epitaph for the Dublin band. They were once described as having “stuck so resolutely to their principles they arguably did a disservice to their career.” And now they are music you can’t stream and an album you can’t buy. Did they even really exist?
The Horde were not like other bands; they were much cooler. Their influences were perfect. They seemed to have soaked up Big Star, The VU, The Ramones, Scott Walker, The Faces, Patti Smith, MC5 and The Byrds long before most of us even knew who these people were. They seemed to be more a part of that world than simply influenced by it.
Onstage, the classic line up that ran from around 1984 to ’94 of Simon Carmody, John Connor, Des Byrne, Peter O’Kennedy and Sam Steiger were Superstars. Any one of them could have led the band. They dripped star quality and were head and shoulders above the local scene.
Offstage too Simon was a breathing rock legend. He once asked me to sing backing vocals on a song called ‘Lisa’. As we stood, side by side, waiting for our moment to shine, he imparted some words of advice that I still live by: “Chick’s names, Tom. Always have a few songs with chick’s names in them.” Angie, Jolene, Lola, Eileen (come on), Gloria, Mandy, Roxanne, Suzanne, Annie, all the Annes, Maggie – well he wasn’t wrong, was he?
Backstage at an all-Irish show in Finsbury Park he imparted more wisdom. One of our contemporaries were about to play. He spotted their road crew bringing their guitars to the stage. “The moment you stop carrying your own guitar, Tom,” Simon said, “it’s over.” This became Simon’s role in my life, imparting words of wisdom whenever we met. Like the time I met him in lockdown, in the early days, and he quipped, “Why couldn’t we have been locked down in Paris or somewhere?” Yep, wisdom that brooks no argument.
The Horde signed to Mother Records. There had been other suitors, but U2’s fledgling company won out, and the Horde’s album was voted joint No 1 with U2’s Achtung Baby in the Hot Press Album of Year for 1991.
It was, in a word, irresistible. ‘Endless Weekend’, ‘100 Boys’, ‘House of Girls’ and the timeless classic, ‘Friends in Time’, were simply perfect pop songs. Full of wit and wisdom, laughter, and tears. It sounded like a band in love with life, with youth, with music.
Gigs and tours followed, but some bands are almost too good to make it. They don’t fit simple stereotypes. They are beyond categorisation and fall foul of playlists. The Horde opened for U2 at the RDS for the Zooropa tour, but by late 1993 it was coming to an end. They disbanded in 1994.
When Feile came back in 2018 I approached Simon about playing. The idea of the Golden Horde with Maria Mckee and an orchestra was very appealing. But Simon was adamant. The band was gone, that bird had flown.
I think, sometimes, when people love something with all their hearts, the idea of revisiting it is too painful. Instead, it stays forever in the mind, as it was at the peak of its powers, youthful and imperial. I think this was a real pity; ‘Friends in Time’ would have been magnificent.
So, for now the album remains on discogs for €125. Or, who knows, you may find it in your local charity shop, for as little as 75 cent. And then you can say with some certainly, that you have found a true “lost” album.
