Sunshine And Clouds

By Joe Kavanagh

Like every race or nationality, the Irish have certain characteristics and quirks that may not be exclusive to our ethnicity, but certainly contribute greatly to other people's perception of our identity. The gift of the gab, our propensity for talking in metaphors and our love of "the craic" are all well-heralded generalizations pertaining to our race that certainly carry some merit. Like every race or nationality, not all of these characteristics are quite so benign. Depending on where you stand, the national love affair with alcohol could be construed as a negative and the reputation for fighting isn't exactly a plus but there is one other curious trait that only the most deluded amongst our race would deny is present among a significant percentage of Irish people: begrudgery. Whether it is some atavistic trait born from the times when the natives in Ireland had absolutely nothing, yet watched as their overlords relished in their ill-gotten wealth, when they starved as the landed classes stuffed themselves; there remains a tendency in certain Irish people to begrudge at an almost professional level. Bono once illustrated this trait by claiming - and I'm paraphrasing here - that when an American person sees someone driving past them in a Porsche, they will most likely remark to themselves: "One day I'll own a car like that", whereas in the case of some Irish people, their first thought is liable to be: "One day I'm going to key that f**ker's car." Nor is it a recent phenomenon, as esteemed 18th Century writer, Samuel Johnson, once observed: "The Irish are not in a conspiracy to cheat the world by false representations of the merits of their countrymen. No, Sir; the Irish are a fair people; they never speak well of one another." Again, I am speaking in generalizations but any honest Irish person will concur that some of us have a special relationship with begrudgery to the point where it is referred to as "the Irish disease."

If you don't believe me, just type the word "begrudgery" into a search engine and see the results. Begrudgery, however, is not always without foundation. Given the rewards associated with a successful career, it really doesn't come as a surprise that the Irish music industry is often rife with this trait and one band in particular is currently leading the way as the target for such ire.

Dublin act, the Coronas have seemingly come from nowhere to become one of the hottest bands on the island at the moment, at least in terms of record sales, moving units at a rate that has rarely, if ever, been seen in the case of an Irish indie band, seemingly doing it on their own. Such success stories, even when merited, are apt to cause jealousy in some quarters, but a cursory examination of their overnight success story reveals that there is a little more to this than a simple tale of four school friends chasing down a dream. To borrow a term from Wall Street, the Coronas have quite the Boiler Room behind them because, in the eyes of many, their value has been overly hyped , but just don't try telling that to their fans.

Initially called Kiros, the band's origins lie in the Dublin suburb of Terenure, where school pals Danny O'Reilly, Graham Knox and Conor Egan caught the music bug and began playing local clubs and venues while all were only 15-years-old.

Discovering that there was already a Canadian band with the same name, the trio decided to change their moniker to Corona three years in. As many of you will know, there is an Italian handbag-dance band with that very name, so the lads were forced to adjust it slightly by adding a definite article and making it plural, before adding drummer Dave McPhillips. With the name finally settled upon and the lineup completed, the band assiduously set about their task of cracking the Irish market, recording a self-titled EP, which - in true Arctic Monkeys fashion - they handed out for free at their gigs.

Here is where the whole truth tends to diverge from the press clippings as the band, according to themselves, were signed by 3˙ Records on the strength of their recordings and live show. Not exactly the whole truth. This would probably be the opportune time to mention that Danny O'Reilly just happens to be the son of acclaimed Irish singer, Mary Black, who also happens to be on 3˙ Records. Add to this the fact that Mary's husband, Joe O'Reilly, is the head of said label and the picture begins to get a little clearer. Now, I am certainly not saying that a parent can't help their child out, or that having a famous parent is a sure fire ticket to the top, but it does rankle many when the band insinuate that they've slogged away just like everybody else on a level playing field when this such positions are a little glib at best.

To be fair to them, the band did win the 2006 Jack Daniels Set, which is one of the more high-profile platforms for talent in Ireland, and they did gig the heck out of Dublin, but the rewards they have reaped ever since can probably be best described as synergistic. By last year, the band was appearing regularly on television and secured a spot at the Oxegen Festival, which is considered the Holy Grail for many Irish bands, as you get to show off your wares amongst the best acts in the world.

They also released a single, San Diego Song, which went on to sit in the Irish Top 40 for 24 weeks, despite virtually nobody outside of the Dublin colleges knowing their name. Such an achievement, however, does not go unnoticed amongst the Irish musician community, as acts up and down the country looked on with a combination of awe and jealously, wondering aloud whether the Coronas were simply just that good; like some Irish Oasis that whose freshness and brilliance left the pack behind.

The answer came when their debut album, Heroes Or Ghosts, appeared in October of last year, allowing the public to decide for themselves whether they were worthy of the hype. To music critics and fellow musicians alike, the answer was a resounding "no", as one critic referred to them as "Snore Patrol", while most passed the album off as some pedestrian, ersatz Kooks. Most of the tracks are heavy on sentimentality, light on substance and have a tendency to traverse the same scuffed up ground as fellow Dublin act, The Thrills, only without the thrills. Although O'Reilly certainly has a fine voice, I honestly don't think that the band as a whole has found theirs, with large tracts of the album hovering just above humdrum and never really separating itself from the crowd. Such flaws hardly seemed to matter to their fans, as the record debuted at #21 in the Irish album charts and remained in the Top 40 for months. Of course, the tens of thousands that was spent on advertising throughout the media and a PR campaign that rivals almost any outfit on the island not named U2, probably didn't hurt, especially given the fact that they are most assuredly the first independently released Irish band to ever carry out such a campaign for a debut album, and possibly the only act that has ever been able to afford it. Try making these points to the legions of predominantly teenage girl fans that densely populate their gigs; a legion that has proven large enough to see the band sell-out Dublin's Ambassador venue, no small achievement in itself.

Truth be told, I have absolutely no quibble with the band whatsoever and good luck to them with their success. What does bother me is the fact that I have seen dozens of Irish bands in the last several years that carry a lot more originality, punching power and poise than the Coronas and, as a purist, it riles me a little to see nepotism winning out over talent, as is often the case in Ireland. Perhaps the Coronas will be one of the best acts on the island some day down the line, but right now they're not even near the front of the line in my humble opinion. In all fairness, I'm a huge and dedicated fan of Irish original music in general and, knowing just how hard it is to make it in this business, I find it very hard to root against any band, particularly one from this island but, like begrudgery, it's hard to see the Coronas being anything other than an Irish phenomenon based on the evidence so far.