Something Out Of Nothing

As none of the three people named in the title of SOMETHING HAPPENS new album Alan, Elvis and God was available for interview, TOM DUNNE, RAY
HARMAN and TED RYAN took on the roles of all three to discuss how the planet-fab foursome are moving into overdrive with the acquisition of a new record
deal and the imminent release of that new album.

Something Happens made a very big mistake in 1988: they signed to Virgin Records UK. Despite handing the label a lorry load of tracks with 'hit single' written all over them ('Parachute', 'Hello, Hello, Hello, Hello (Petrol)', 'Incoming', 'Kill the roses' et al), the label spectacularly failed to turn plastic gems into platinum chart
entries. They preferred to sell lots of Phil Collins records instead.

In the USA, somehow Charisma outdid their UK counterparts in the gross incompetence stakes. As if to rub salt into the wounds, the Gin Blossoms emerged from Arizona, and using a blueprint identical to that of the Happens, achieved massive international success.

Meanwhile in Ireland, where, traditionally, national acclaim tends to require overseas approval first, the guitar-toting foursome turned tradition on its head, scoring a staggering run of over a dozen hit singles and six top albums.

These days, thankfully, the Somethings are very much still happening, especially across the pond, with a new/old album in the works, which possesses the enigmatic title of Alan, Elvis and God. Are they bitter? Frankly, no. They've got too much pride and a finely-tuned send of the ridiculous for that.

As Tom Dunne charitably comments when I meet up with three of the band in a pub under Tara Street railway station, "there were people in Virgin and Charisma that were really behind us, but we got lost somewhere in the shake-up when both companies were taken over by EMI. In fact we would probably have been better off if they'd dropped us before the Bedlam A Go Go album. They only kept us on because the company was in such turmoil that nobody wanted to take any drastic decisions such as dropping a band."

Following their eventual escape from Virgin, they released Planet Fabulous in 1994 and a best-of compilation The Beatings Will Continue Until Morale Improves the following year. And, barring an unexpected change in fortune, that seemed to be that.

But now, following an unexpected twist of fate, they've got a new album, a new record deal and renewed vigour.

"We demoed 70 new songs after leaving Virgin in 1992," explains Tom Dunne. "That cost us a lot of money! Then this guy Roger Stein actually started to return our calls about eighteen months ago."

Initially, Dunne adds, Stein wanted Planet Fabulous as it was but having heard the new material, they repaired to Totally Wired Studios and assembled an album partially comprised of Planet Fabulous, as well as five filler new tracks. Hence Alan, Elvis and God.

Tom and guitarist Ray Harman both agree that Bob Rosa's mixes on the new releases are rougher and looser than their trademark polished sound of yore, but they feel that the quality of the songs and the exuberance in the playing both shine through. Indeed they appear to have been thoroughly rejuvenated by the experience.

According to Harman, "There's a definite live feel to the album. We're such an opinionated band that sometimes I think we lose something when the committee approach takes over. It was the same when we worked with Ronnie Gurr at Virgin. Like Ronnie, Bob had an opinion on things, and we need someone like that to force the issue, so long as we trust them."

The resulting opus has been on offer to the Americans for about six months.

It's impact was aided by a 17-date tour in November which Dunne describes as "totally hell for leather. We covered 4,500 miles. It's great being in a band isn't it? We built the whole set around the new album, plus some even fresher songs and we did one gig with Walter Beckett of Steely Dan for radio."

Harman chimes in with a slight qualification, "The driving was hard but the gigging was brilliant."

A couple of years ago they toured the US as Warren Zevon's backing band, but this time there was no sign of the grizzled one, although Harman assures me that they keep in touch. "Warren loves Alan, he really does. But we can't see why!"

Speaking of the absent Mr. Byrne, how come he figures in the title? Harman claims that the bassist has been campaigning for years to be handed this accolade until they finally relented. "Have you noticed that two of the three mentioned are dead?" adds the guitarist ominously.

Our confab is then interrupted by the arrival of drummer Eamon 'Ted' Ryan, holding his daughter Jesse. He promptly launches into a tale from the previous weekend when he was in Cork with Therapy?, where the gig manager became alarmed by some wild cavorting in the moshpit. His nerves were further strained after Andy Cairns announcement that the next song is called 'I Want to Kill Dickie Rock and Piss on his Corpse.'

The Happens story began in 1984. Around that time, I wrote the first ever printed review of the band, following a gig in Bray I'd attended to hear Nine Out of Ten Cats. I instead fell for the support band's unmistakable charms.

When they were promoted to regular headlines at the Baggot Inn, I made the pilgrimage for eight weeks in succession. As the word spread about them, it became necessary to get to the Baggot earlier each week; the Happens got more fans turned away than some bands pulled in total. It was also the first time I saw the bass deployed as an offensive weapon, with a rattled-looking Alan Byrne being forced to prevent the insane down-the-front melee from spilling onto the stage. Songs like 'Beach', 'Incoming', 'Burn Clear', and the sublime 'Forget Georgia' were etched indelibly in the brain while the band's penchant for quirky covers encompassing Madonna's 'Borderline', Sabrina's Euro-kitsch classic 'Boys Boys Boys', the Smithwick commercial, and the theme from Skippy The Bush Kangaroo - turned every
gig into a joyful, hi-energy celebration.

In due course, the distinctive exclamation mark at the end of the band's name and the quizzical face logo designed by Father Ted creator Arthur Mathews on a slow day at the Hot Press office became part of the Happens make-up. After that came three peerless perfect pop albums - Been There Seen That Done That, Stuck Together With God's Glue (the later phrase turning up mysteriously on U2's 'Staring at the Sun'), Bedlam A Go Go, and a series of top-notch hit singles almost
without equal in the Irish pop pantheon. 'Parachute' was eventually voted best-ever Irish single by discerning Hot Press readers and listener's of 2FM's Moloney After Midnight.

On a much more serious level, Something Happens launch parties became the stuff of legends. At one stage a boat sailed around Dublin bay while the lads performed live on deck. Another release saw the music media, plus a bus load of Happens fans, invade the sleepy Wicklow village of Hollywood for a party. This was apparently the first and last time that a bunch of inebriated hacks were delivered to Renard's nightclub by double-decker bus. It's a lot for any band to live up to.

The release of Bedlam A Go Go, their swan-song for Virgin, signalled yet more frustration for the band. Today, Dunne frankly admits that Bedlam, with it's heavier and 'trying very hard' sound, had more than it's fair share of deficiencies.

The arrangements on that album suffered. "It contained some of our best and some of our worst," says the singer. "Ronnie Gurr, who originally signed us to Virgin,was gone by then. We used to have great rows with Ronnie, but we always came to the right decision."

One cock-up which epitomised the band's time at Virgin involved 'Hello, Hello, Hello, Hello (Petrol)' getting steady airplay in Britain while not available in the shops.
"It's heartbreaking when that happens," admits Ted. The fact that a video for 'Parachute' was never filed is another bone of contention.

"There was no cohesion in Virgin," sighs Harman. "Some departments were very good for us, some were useless. Ronnie Gurr did it for us. Willie Richardson didn't. Our manager Conor O' Mahony was very popular with people, both in the record company and with the media ..."

Should they perhaps have been more ruthless in their dealing with people?

"Well, we as individuals also wanted to be popular with people. We're not into the ruthless thing."

I opine that maybe this attribute is a necessary one to have when dealing with the skullduggery rampant in the record industry. This is a cue for Harman to roar with laughter and rise out of his seat to proclaim, "I want to advocate more skullduggery in the record business, there's nowhere near enough of it!"

Dunne animatedly disagrees with Harman. "I want to campaign to clean up the industry! You can expect to find executives dying at their desks with cds rammed down their throats!"

Ted Ryan, thank God, subtly brings the subject back to the matter in hand. "We are really impressed with Roger Stein's belief in the record," he says. "I think there is at least one more album in the band. We could have folded under all the bills ages ago but we still get on after all these years together. It can be sad if a band goes on too long, but I wouldn't let a record company person make that decision. We'll know when to quit."

"Radio stations in the USA have been very supportive of the album so far," enthuses Dunne. "On one station in particular, in Cornell, 'Are You My Girl' picked up nearly sixty plays in one week. They ran a competition for a trip to Dublin for one of our gigs and when they played it they got one thousand, two hundred calls. I think all twelve hundred turned up for the Patrick's Day parade! Even the Lord Mayor of Cornell had a copy of the album. In fact 'Are You My Girl' has been the most requested song one four New York stations."

As we wrap up the interview, Dunne goes all gooey and sentimental on us much to his bandmates' disgust. "Being in a band is great. It changes your whole perspective on life. People are great." This bon mot is delivered with a straight face, believe it or not.

Times change, and music moves on; the Happens for their part are making sure to move with them. When I press them as to their unfulfilled ambitions to date, they tell me their only remaining wish is to play a gig at the Bladder Pool in Ballyrectum. So the beatings, it seems, may have to continue for some time to come.

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