TD 1
NC Lawlor Over the last 20 years, NC Lawlor has b
uilt a career as one of Ireland’s premier blues musicians. He’s booked countless gigs and residencies, supported the likes of Seasick Steve and Shane McGowan, and even travelled to Texas to play with legendary outlaw country star Billy Joe Shaver. And yet, no matter where life takes him, he always returns to Dublin. “I like Dublin because it reminds me of a psychedelic film noir. Some towns are like a page on Facebook. It’s all presented to you. But this place feels like it’s full of history and ghosts, rights and wrongs, triumphs and tragedies.” Lawlor’s journey began as a young boy in I like Dublin because it reminds me of a psychedelic film noir. England. Due to “bizarre family circumstances”, his family moved to Manchester, and although he speaks of those years in unfavourable terms, they did have a formative effect on his music. “When I first started guitar, there was a bar on the Manchester Road called the Black Horse, and every weekend, my friend and I would stand outside listening to this music. It was mostly taxi drivers and manual workers, playing the most incendiary, guttural blues.” Though Lawlor would later play in indie bands before taking a break from music, he still remembers his first encounter with the blues. “There was a visceral energy to it that I really liked. It was very feral and punk in its delivery, and it had a beautiful DIY, lo-fi aspect to it.” Years later, Lawlor returned to Ireland with a degree in fine art. It was 1998, and he was living in Dún Laoghaire, struggling to support himself as a painter. Desperate to make some money, he began to busk on the pier. “I did very well financially, and I could begin to live off that and continue to paint. But then I got really interested in songwriting and music took over everything.” Riding the wave of the Celtic Tiger, Lawlor booked residencies in various bars and restaurants. At his peak, he was playing five gigs a week. But for Lawlor, these were creatively stunted times. “I had become quite jaded. I was a bar musician, I didn’t really busk that much anymore. My writing suffered, because when you play 5-6 nights a week, you don’t want to pick up a guitar when you go home.” Things came to a head when he was offered a place in Billy Joe Shaver’s tour band. After playing all over Britain, Lawlor accompanied the band on their American tour. But, what should have been the culmination of his career became a time for serious reflection. “It was quite a bittersweet experience. I’ve always been a fan of Billy Joe Shaver, he’s the godfather of outlaw country. But the reality of it is, I’m not a Texan outlaw. That’s not my identity. We were doing the same songs every night, the same setlist, and I just found that creatively, I couldn’t continue like that.” His return to Dublin coincided with the recession of 2008. Residencies began to dry up and he had to go back onto the streets to earn his money. For Lawlor, this was a blessing in disguise. “I had gotten into a rut in the bars. I became less and less creative, and it became more of a routine.” “When I came back, I fell in love with Dublin again. There was a huge, eclectic music scene that I’d overlooked, and I wanted to find the music I wanted to make.” It’s only in the last few years that Lawlor feels he is reaching his full potential as a musician, something he attributes in part to his increased busking. “The very nature and energy of a place like Grafton Street will definitely inform how you play. It really informs the music. The great thing about the street is it’s always changing. It’s an aggressively capitalistic place. There are tourists walking around. People who are homeless. People who are stinking rich. There’s every possibility of human energy on that street. So somehow you drink it all up and spew it all out. And I get hooked on that in music. If I get stuck creatively, I love to go to the street and re-engage with that energy.” “It teaches you to get out of your own way. You can’t be intellectual or perfectionist. You have to be right there in the moment. And putting yourself there brings ideas and expressions you couldn’t have conceived through thought.” In addition to constantly busking and gigging, Lawlor is making tentative steps towards recording an album down the line, “if only to make a document of my work and clear the attic.” When asked where his work ethic comes from, he gestures to his hands, which have the words ‘True Grit’ etched upon them. “It came through years and years of self doubt. Last year, I got this tattooed on my hands to remind myself that I don’t get anything done creatively without getting my hands dirty. And that’s usually where the gold is. In the grit.” 23