It was probably a case of anything-for-a-quiet-life, but the fact that, before its refurbishment, the Ulster Museum contained more vending machines than exhibits pertaining to the history of Northern Ireland, flags (sorry) up an interesting point. The cliché runs that Northerners are a people obsessed with their past. But with an education system that, rather than pick through the nuances of our contested recent history, chooses to pretend it never happened, the opposite argument could actually be made.

As it is with our understanding of our general history, so it is too with our knowledge of Belfast.
Put it down to the very real (physical and psychological) North/South/East/West divisions that continue to exist, but few of its citizens can claim more than a localised knowledge of the place.
As a rule: if you’re born with a BT post code below the late-teens, the immediate landmarks of your youth and some prime city centre spots glow vividly red. The rest, though, may as well be sign-posted ‘Here Be Monsters’.
That’s why I’ve always had a soft spot for Belfast tourist treks.
Whether it’s the Black Hack run around the West; or that strange chug through the old docks (where nothing now exists, but the past and future slug it out for your attention); even the Halloween Ghost Tour that winds up with a boo at Friars Bush Cemetery – I’m a sucker. The no-go mentality is a hard one to shake. The promiscuous way they hop-scotch around town is an example to us all.
At this point, I should make it clear that there are only so many faded murals, ‘landscaped’ peace lines, and crumbling dry docks a sane person can take. So, it’s always fun to hear that a new tour has been launched. Especially when you find out its intention is to explore Belfast’s musical heritage.
In another stage in his on-going transformation into Belfast’s Peter Ackroyd, Stuart Bailie has spent the last few months working on the route. And for such a compartmentalised place, he’s been enthused by the discovery of a common musical attitude that links the different parts of Belfast.
“It’s a city that’s been shaped by heavy industry, heavy politics and fundamentalist religion. A lot of the music is informed by that,” he proffers. “There’s a singular grrrr in our musical lexicon.”
So, we get to hear about some of the Galactico talents that have graced The Ulster Hall (running from Charles Dickens to The Clash), the chart-smashing exploits of Ruby Murray (“her success in 1955 was astounding – five records in the top 20 at the same time”), George Best (“It’s a blast to play ‘Belfast Boy’ at volume when we’re driving past his old house in the Cregagh. He was pure Belfast and pure rock and roll”) and enjoy unexpected cameo appearances from, amongst others, Kate Bush, John Lennon and Nikita Khrushchev.
“There’s a couple of versions of the Kate Bush story,” says Stu. “Of how she ended up with a Lambeg drum on the ‘Hounds Of Love’ album. My version is that she saw a documentary about the 12th of July, and put the word out that she needed a big rope drum. Mike Edgar was also signed to EMI with Cruella Deville and he sourced a drum in Sandy Row. The old guy wanted to know if Kate wanted King Billy or Orange lilies painted on the side. Kate asked for fluffy clouds. The old guy says, ‘for £600 she can have whatever she wants...’”
There are dozens of great stories about the McPeake Family. How they toured Russia in the ‘50s. People wanted to know what it was like meeting Khrushchev. Francis says it was a pain because the leader kept bumming cigarettes off him – any chance to get a Western filter tip. John Lennon wanted Francis to live with him for three months and teach him the uileann pipes, but the musician had to sign on in Belfast the following Tuesday. “
Of course, any trip around Belfast’s musical history will spend much of its time focusing on the city’s two main talking points – Van Morrison and punk. According to Stu, fans of both will be well catered for.
“Punk allows us to show you the site of the old Harp Bar and the place where ‘Teenage Kicks’ was recorded. It’s a chance to remember the riot after an abortive Clash gig in 1977 which birthed the song ‘Alternative Ulster’ and Rudi’s ‘We Hate The Cops’.
For Van, there is Hyndford St, Cyprus Avenue, Orangefield and more. He sings you into the east. There’s also a visit to the site of the old Maritime Hotel where Them made their debut in 1964. A lot of the old Van landscapes have been flattened – the Brookborough Hall, the Maritime, Davy’s chipper, but a good few still survive. And there’s always Cyprus Avenue. It would be compelling to visit, even if Van hadn’t written that most amazing song.”
It’s not just the North, South, East and West of the city that the Belfast Music Tour drives through, a little bit of Invisible Belfast is visited too.
“It’s a broad journey for a broad range of ages,” says Stu. “Everyone’s welcome. There’s a lot of pride in the tour.”

www.belfastmusic.org