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It’s strange thinking about how long I’ve spent r
ummaging around this man’s life. n November 2016, friends and fans of the late Mic Christopher gathered in Dublin’s Vicar Street venue to celebrate the joyous songs he left behind before his untimely death in 2001, aged 32. Over the course of the evening, a commemorative gig for Christopher’s 15th anniversary, Glen Hansard was joined on stage by several stalwarts of the Irish music scene; Bronagh Gallagher, Colm Mac Con Ionmaire and Paddy Casey, amongst others. All of whom had, in one form or another, played music with the songwriter throughout the 1990s. This September another milestone beckons; Mic Christopher’s 50th birthday. To a certain extent, since his death, Mic Christopher has garnered a sort of mythological status. Take a moment to list the things you know about the Bronx-born, Clondalkinraised musician. Undoubtedly, the chorus for his most successful hit, HeyDay, which soundtracked a pre-Hollywood Michael Fassbender swimming across the Atlantic Ocean in an effort to make amends with a friend in New York over a pint of Guinness, comes quickly and easily to mind. On a more tragic note, the circumstances surrounding his accidental death, a fatal head injury resulting from falling down a series of steps whilst in the Netherlands (in the final weeks of his life he joined The Waterboys on their tour as the support act) is often mentioned when his name enters a conversation. However, between those snapshots are a number of stories that portray an exceptionally humble artist with an innately mismatched combination of having boundless talent with little interest in playing the industry game. Shrouded in Mic Christopher’s mystique are anecdotes of teenage years spent busking on Grafton Street, travelling to Bosnia with his former band The Mary Janes to perform at the opening of the Pavarotti Music Centre, actively avoiding the gaze of A&R heads, and, most crucially, how he was a central figure in bringing people together through music. Finally, in a new feature-length documentary, HeyDay: The Mic Christopher Story, directed by Alan Leonard in collaboration with Speed of Light Films and Single Cell Films, light is being shed on the life and career of a songwriter who made an indelible impact on Irish music in a short space of time and with a limited body of work. On one of the final evenings of summer, a funeral party congregated upstairs in a central Dublin hotel. It seemed appropriate, if not eerily coincidental, that whilst waiting at the bar to order an orange juice I overheard strangers converse fondly about somebody they knew that was now gone. Glass in hand, as I approach Níall Carver, the documentary’s producer, he’s sitting at a table reading The Slits’ guitarist Viv Albertine’s 2014 memoir, Clothes, Clothes, Clothes. Music, Music, Music. Boys, Boys, Boys. Later in our conversation he touches on how Albertine described that to be labeled “careerist” was to be marked with a dirty badge within the punk scene. This crossedover to one of the contributing factors to Christopher’s enigmatic legacy. “Mic struggled with the idea of engaging with labels and taking a careerist approach to music. He never wanted to sell-out. In that way, he was his own worst enemy.” With that in mind, when you see footage throughout the film of Christopher playing with The Mary Janes or doing solo sets there’s an overwhelming sense that he could have been hugely popular with Irish and international crowds. “When Mic performed, there was an effortlessness to his style,” said Carver. “It’s as though he was touched with a musical genius. The fact that Skylarkin’ was the first body of Mic’s solo work – outside of The Mary Janes two LPs – boded so well for what he could have made. It does him a disservice to think of what he could have done instead of taking the philosophical approach and celebrate what he did achieve in such a short space of time.” Now, more than ever, feels like the right time for Christopher to be celebrated. Amongst the wave of new bands and artists claiming their spot in Ireland’s fruitful music scene, there’s been room to appreciate the figures who have, from either little-to-no industry-backing or limited opportunities to have their music heard by audiences during their lifetime, slipped through the cracks. Since 2018, through their Allchival imprint, Dublin’s All City Records have been busy putting out a series of releases from Ireland’s lesser-known musical treasures such as Michael O’Shea and Shano. Expanding on why Christopher’s musical legacy struggled to reach the acclaim it warranted, Carver claimed, “I suppose it’s an out-of-sight, outof-mind thing. Now more than ever, it’s so important for artists to have a live presence to make sure that their music is reaching audiences. Mic wasn’t around to tour Skylarkin’ when it came out because he passed away the year before. Yes, it went to number one in Ireland at the time, but the albums that came out at that time have lasted in memory more because the artists were and still are around to perform those songs.” It’s through interested and proactive external sources, like All City 45