Hooleygan

by Terri Hooley

  Over the years bands like The Beastie Boys, Mötley Crüe and many others have become huge fans of the music we put out on the label. When REM visited Belfast in February 2005, Michael Stipe and guitarist Peter Buck came back onto the stage and, before a frenzied audience, struck the opening chords of ‘Teenage Kicks’. Stipe sang the opening lines but, within seconds, he had given up as eight thousand fans, accompanied by Buck, sang the song for him. He just stood back and listened – it was electrifying. That night really drove it home to me that this was our song, Belfast’s signature tune, and it was down to our work at Good Vibrations.

  We had done something that broke every rule in the book and the fact that we are still going strong is a minor miracle. I look back and wonder how we all managed it, because I never had a plan when Good Vibes started, but the whole point of setting up the label was to leave a legacy – which is something I think we achieved. As my ex-wife Ruth always used to say, ‘Do not do for money that which you cannot do for love.’

  What a load of bollocks!

  ‘Why Hooley is so Hard to Beat’ – Stuart Bailie

  It’s the morning after the night before, the body feels fragile, and Terri Hooley has lost his glass eye. And so we have to pick over the debris of the party, lifting up cans and stepping over ashtrays, hoping to find the missing body part. We search through the stack of reggae records and check under the fridge.

  Finally, Terri pulls his arm out from the back of the sofa, clutching the lost prosthetic. He gives it a quick wipe on the sleeve of his jumper and jams it back in the socket. Belfast’s greatest double act is reunited.

  Through much of the bad times, Terri and his eye provided the blackest entertainment. When the murder gangs ran amok in Belfast, Terri would stand on-stage at The Pound Club and The Harp Bar, barking out the lyrics of the Sonny Bono tune ‘Laugh at Me’.

  Outside the violence was random, but in the relative safety of those venues, Hooley would pluck out his false eye and clutch it in his hand like a voodoo spell, staring into the hearts of the punk kids, demanding that they all see the light.

  Sometimes he might even sing the old Tim Rose song, the one made famous by Jimi Hendrix. By the time he’d got to the end of ‘Hey Joe’ he would be foaming and furious, chanting his own coda to the murder ballad: ‘UVF, IRA, how many men did you kill today?’ And in truth, we could not answer.

  He’s a part-time poet, meshing together American beat literature and Belfast blarney. At a party in London, he once invited an acquaintance into the bathroom. The guy thought he was going to be offered drugs, but instead, Hooley recited a lyric called ‘Be My Friend’. This became another of his party pieces, an act of compassion from a city of conflict.

  If a stranger wanted to know the Terri essentials, you’d probably answer that he was the guy who set up a record shop called Good Vibrations in Belfast. His rickety room on Great Victoria Street became a meeting place for the lost tribes of Ulster, the people who valued music and culture more than the dead hand of sectarianism.

  And when punk rock arrived, it gladdened his old hippy heart and his keen sense of anarchy. In 1978, he released ‘Big Time’, ‘Teenage Kicks’ and a stack of lesser classics. He made us famous for something outside the usual agenda. And because he was such a rubbish businessman, he was bankrupt by 1982.

  But that was temporary. Terri has returned many times, surviving bomb blasts, heart attacks and beatings by racketeers. He had to quit his shop on Howard Street when the peace dividend gave him soaring rates.

  He was burnt out of North Street Arcade by arsonists, another repellent act in a city that deserves better. Now Terri runs Good Vibrations in Winetavern Street, the last of the independents.

  Many of his stories have been so embroidered over time that the facts are hard to recognise. But we can probably agree that he had angry words with Bob Dylan and John Lennon, that there was a discourse with Bob Marley and a messy night or two with Phil Lynott. But rather than sweat over accuracy, we should celebrate the spirit of Hooley. To bring ‘Teenage Kicks’ into the world was a good idea, but his decision to press up a bunch of records was only part of a bigger idea.

  Good Vibrations came about at a time when we had no confidence about ourselves and our art. He showed the value of self-expression, how to be fearless. And that’s the real legacy.

  We’re not going to petition for his sainthood just yet. Terri is lovely when he’s sober but when the brandies take effect he can be tiresome. It’s all part of the roaring boy persona, the gusto and the grandstanding and the stories that you’ve heard scores of times before.

  Some of it hides insecurity. Other parts of the character are driven by his anti-Midas tendencies, the urge to sabotage a good thing and to avoid complacency. Hooley will never be a rich man, and he’s too volatile to be embraced by the Ulster establishment, but sometimes youth culture, guitars and insolent voices define a city more than any other form, and you can make that case for Terri and Belfast. His style will outlast the guys in the suits and their shabby deals. His logic will survive them all. He has made an actual, positive difference. In the kingdom of the blind, Terri Hooley is king.

  Acknowledgements

  A few words of thanks from Terri …

  As a young boy with very strict parents, I was never really that outgoing – I hated school and instead preferred to spend my days sitting in my room listening to music. As such, I was never really part of any gang but, when I grew older, I met many women who, not only led me astray, but took me to art galleries, exhibitions, concerts and, quite simply, changed my life.

  So I would like to say thanks to three very wonderful women in particular – Ruth, Eithne, and Claire. Thank you for putting up with my partying and my antics, and for trying (unsuccessfully) to keep me away from all the madness. Opposites do attract.

  I would also like to thank my two children, Anna and Michael – this book is dedicated to you. I hope I was a lot more caring and loving than my father ever was to me.

  In particular I would like to thank Richard Sullivan whose idea it was to do this book in the first place. I questioned his wisdom in starting such a project and worried that he might wind up in a mental institution by the end of it, but thankfully his sanity is still in tact. Which is even more surprising considering he had to deal with so many of my lunatic friends.

  And to those friends, past and present, sorry there were some stories that we had to leave out.

  Thanks to Gary, Jonny, Jimmy, Glenn, Stuart, Greg, Brian, John, Chris, David, and John T. for their contributions to the book and my apologies to Harry Orr, Biggy Bigmore, Darren Chittick and anyone else who contributed stories but, due to lack of space, were left out.

  Thanks to John Carson, Frankie Quinn, Peter Johnson and everyone else who allowed us to use their photographs and artwork. My biggest regret is that we no longer have the fantastic sixties memorabilia that I had once collected to use in the book. Blame that on the arsonists who burnt down North Street Arcade and, along with it, my own personal history and the history of Good Vibrations. See you in hell.

  Thanks to Alex Harper, Bryan Collis and Roy Wallace (the other hooleygans and my backup team) for all their love, help and support. And to Rosie McMichael and Naomi Wilson for doing their best to keep me on the rails and always having a room ready for me when I need one.

  Thanks to David, Glenn, Lisa, and Chris for the movie, Good Vibrations. I hope I am still around to see the finished product. The pilot was spot on, and you made an old man very happy.

  Thanks to the staff of The John Hewitt (my second home and office), to all at the Oh Yeah! centre and to every musician, artist and poet who has ever made me feel alive.

  Finally, a big thank you to everyone who ever bought a record in Good Vibrations – please support your local independent book shop and record shop while you still have one. We are a dying breed.

  Hope you enjoy the book.

  One Love

  … and from Richard

  For my par
t I want to dedicate my work on this book to Val, Niamh, Jacob and Roly. Without your love, support, humour and interest this would never have happened – thank you.

  Thank you Terri for entrusting me with your life, it has been an incredible pleasure.

  I want to acknowledge the help of Brian Young – Brian your encyclopaedic knowledge and readiness to help were invaluable. Thanks to Michael Rafferty for filling in a lot of gaps, to Jimmy Symington for being Terri’s friend, to Bryan Collis for keeping order in Terri’s shop and to Alex Harper for the cups of tea and unswerving loyalty to the Godfather of Punk.

  Special mention to Patsy Horton, Julie Steenson, Lisa Dynan and especially Michelle Griffin at Blackstaff Press – thanks for taking us on, we hope you enjoyed it as much as us.

  And to all the people I have met in the writing of this book, I thank you.