It was nearly 70 years ago that a certain Gallagher family came to live in Ballyshannon, Co. Donegal – there was work on the hydro electric dam outside the town. A son was born during their stay and the Gallaghers subsequently moved to Cork. The rest is rock ‘n’ roll history.
Ten years ago the town took an initiative, led by the energetic Barry O’Neill. The Rory Gallagher Tribute Festival is now firmly established as part of the summer calendar.
For many, it’s an annual pilgrimage. We come to remember the great man, to hear his big songs played and interpreted, to recall a time, to taste the magic of Rory’s work.
It was another great couple of days this year. The townspeople are friendly and they don’t rip you off for your drink and crepes and fish ‘n’ chips.
Perhaps Rory’s spirit causes the sun to always shine for this festival. People young and old enter the spirit, good-humouredly sitting on the street and coming to life when they’re asked to join a chorus of ‘Follow Me’ or ‘Shadow Play’ by one of the many bands performing outdoors.
Barry Barnes has a passion that doesn’t dim. Jed Thomas from Harrogate completed a couple of marathon sets. Crow Black Chicken from Cork are gutsy and bluesy. Johnny Gallagher is a giant of a fella who can play such gentle notes with his Telecaster. Hot Smoke are a local band with a great rock sound, though they do Lizzy and other non-Rory stuff. Mick Pyro, a unique talent, shows his blues side with that great rhythm section of John Quearney and Noel Bridgeman. They’re joined by two other vets, James Delaney and Pat Farrell.
In the Big Top on Saturday night, The Loop from Germany do a good set of mid ‘70s Rory, before the Dave McHugh Band come out to show their prowess on the Taste catalogue: their ‘Railway & Gun’ is especially fiery.
Sunday night’s climax is a wonderful mix of nostalgia and great music, the nearest we come to having Mr. G amongst us. Former Rory drummer Ted McKenna is joined by long-time bass player Gerry McEvoy, with Marcel Scherpenzeel cast as Rory himself. He carries the weight well. The three, as Band Of Friends, give us towering versions of ‘Bad Penny’, ‘A Million Miles Away’ and ‘Walk On Hot Coals’.
Some people are still humming the songs, their wristbands in place, on the buses out of town next morning. We speed towards home, past Lough Erne, watching it shimmer.