Maxi marks the 80th birthday of poet, songwriter, wordsmith, singer, guitarist and much-loved legend, Kildare-born Christy Moore. In this chat, we learn about the vicissitudes in his life, the early loss of a parent, the bank strike, a trip to England, song listening/singing/writing/, lifelong friendships, dealing with injustice, sell-out concerts, turning points and Joxer’s jump leads!

 

The proprietor was showing me his state-of-the-art entertainment room. In front of him was a computer that controlled the amount of space for an audience. On the console, I could see that the area was divided by folding doors, and he explained to me how he could control it to make a venue look full by limiting the capacity with the flick of a switch.
“That’s the least amount,” he said, closing the doors and leaving just one-third of the area free for the admission of the attendees. “That’s the next,” he said cutting the area in half with a further movement on the desk console. It was indeed impressive and I told him so. “What’s that button for?” I asked, seeing one that was labelled CMS.
“Ah …” he pushed it. The doors folded back to expose the full capacity of the venue.
“I call it the Christy Moore Setting, it’s beyond full!”

Christy Moore was born in the garrison town of Newbridge, Co Kildare. There were three boys and three girls in the clan; Christy was the first-born.
His parents owned a grocery store and during his school days he helped in the shop, was the messenger boy, and sang locally when there was time and opportunity. He was eleven when his dad died suddenly.

I asked about the initial thread that started the music in his soul.
“Our mother, Nancy Power, came from The Yellow Furze in County Meath. She was a woman of song. In our young days, she sang at feiseanna, in Church and with the Music Society in Navan. She instilled a love of song in all of her six children. My mother used to be the first person to hear my songs; these times it’s the road crew.
“As a ten-year-old boy soprano, I sang at concerts in Newbridge, County Kildare and the Curragh Camp. I felt an emotional charge when I sang Kevin Barry. Seventy years later, it’s still there.”
After finishing school, he got a job in the bank and had time to pursue his love of music.

In 1966, due to a pay-related work stoppage, all the banks in Ireland closed. The strike lasted many months and the results many years. During that time – before ATMs and online services – the supply of cash was frozen in pockets and vaults and under mattresses, and traders ended up going out of business. People were free to write rubber cheques. Fraudsters had a field day and the innocent customers were powerless.

At the time, Christy found himself at a career crossroads. Should he hang around here and wait for the banks to open, or go further afield? I asked him if he remembered how he felt at the time, bearing in mind he was twenty-one, it was the mid-sixties, and he was a single man?
“Yes. I remember, I said thanks be to Jaysus I am out of here.” And off he went.

Continue reading in this week’s Ireland’s Own