The Box Set: 1964- 2004

For a man who generally guards his privacy with considerable zeal, this six CD box set – comprising 101 outtakes, b-sides and various bits, bobs and quasi-poetic rants recorded on stage, in studio, at rehearsals and even in gardens and sheds – is a generous entree into the private realm and thoughts of a man who has chronicled Ireland’s place in the modern world with all the passion, courage and clarity of a homegrown Woody Guthrie.
Christy has consistently displayed an unerring talent for picking and writing songs that not only suit his highly personalised style of delivery but often articulate precisely what is preoccupying the Irish psyche at any given time. Songs like ‘On The Blanket’, ‘Mullaghmore’, the once-banned ‘They Never Came Home’ (about the Stardust fire), ‘Dunnes Stores’ and ‘Anne Lovett’ serve as an aural encyclopaedia of the times we’ve lived through. ‘El Salvador’, ‘Viva La Quinte Brigada’ and similar efforts reflect our concerns for the troubles of other lands, while hearing him struggle through his spoken intro to ‘Rialto Derry January 1993’ is a disturbing experience in itself.
Moore’s empathy with the plain people of Ireland comes through time and again through songs like ‘The Auld Triangle’ and Pierce Turner’s ‘Among The Wicklow Hills’. The fact that you’’ll hardly recognise the youthful Christy on early tracks ‘Little Musgrave’ and ‘Johnny Jump Up’ shows how far he’s travelled musically and how much weight he’s added to his voice since then, while train-spotters will get endless fun comparing the provisional takes here to their official versions. And it wouldn’t be a true reflection of the man if we didn’t have such bouts of humour as ‘Don’t Forget Your Shovel’.
But Christy saves most of his considerable venom for politicians both domestic and foreign, reminding us what useless and dangerous piles of shite most of them are. His spoken intro to ‘Hey! Ronnie Reagan’, in which he spits great gobs of bile into the air and lets them hang there, and his angry diatribe about the murderous Margaret Thatcher on ‘Goose Green (Taking Tea With Pinochet’), will make anyone on the side of truth, honesty and justice want to stand up and cheer. Much in this monument to one of the greatest living Irishmen won’t help us sleep any better in our beds, but then maybe it’s Moore’s job to remind that we don’t always deserve to.
One significant niggle. The list of titles on the back of the box contains about twenty which differ from the titles in the lavish inner sleeve notes. In fact, the monologue billed as ‘Pierce Turner’ is also referred to as ‘The Way Pierce Turner Sings’ and ‘I Love The Way Pierce Turner Sings’. This otherwise sublime treasure trove deserves better.