I had originally prepared this piece a couple of weeks ago with the sole intention of re-visiting and reappraising the magnificently bilious 1992 album Valhalla Avenue by Cathal Coughlan’s Fatima Mansions as it was one of my all time favourite records of the year, and, after Viva Dead Ponies (1990), the second most essential of FM’s five albums they issued during their short explosive existence between 1988 and 1995, as one of the most exciting and adventurously brilliant bands of the decade.
Sadly, I found out only today (23rd May) as I was readying this article for the editorial, through colleague John Robb at LTW, the untimely tragic news that Cathal Coughlan had passed away after an period of [undisclosed] illness. This has totally knocked me sideways and I am reeling from this such that my immediate emotions are of numbed disbelief, devastation and total shock.
Cathal was one of my all time favourite Irish songwriters – ever – and despite only getting to appreciate his output passionately through his Fatima Mansions incarnation from 1988 onwards, I then inevitably started to backtrack and revisit his former band – critic’s favourites (and Peel staples) Microdisney, and found that they were largely excellent too.
Nobody wrote words quite like Coughlan. Nobody. He was a true unique singular maverick talent with an uncanny knack for clever phrasing and scabrous wit of the best kind. Possessed of a rich baritone singing voice that was so impossibly versatile, he often drew comparisons with (his idol) Scott Walker on the more mellifluous compositions. Yet he could also turn on a sixpence and rage like a ferocious hurricane, spewing fire and brimstone on the more aggressive and violently atonal, visceral numbers that the band were also so celebrated for, sometimes within the space of the same song.
Even his speaking voice was exceptionally satisfying on the ear, possessed of that unmistakable Cork brogue which never fully deserted him despite spending much of his musical life encamped outside his home county. Put it like this, I could happily listen to Coughlan recite the ingredients on the back of a box of cereal and he would somehow still manage to make it sound gripping.
He took no prisoners in his written and verbal outlook on life. Indeed, Mark E. Smith – arguably one of his only true contemporaries – was slightly in awe of him to the extent that he famously tried to wind Coughlan up by calling him ‘an Englishman’ in an attempt to try and undermine his unflappable and stoical Irish pride.
It didn’t work, and, amusingly enough, it was Smith who came out of it as the losing side in this otherwise insignificant little spat. Only because Coughlan was so dignified he rose above it all in his usual magnanimous way. And it is because of that that some folks harbour deep love, respect and adoration for him as an artist. Including myself.
His work transcended any simple pigeonholing. Not for him the trivialities of futile compartmentalisation or dumb unit-shifting to meekly appease the record companies’ bank balances. If, during their time together as a recording band, Microdisney had nothing to offer other than pretty melodies, they would have been seen as an innocuous pop-rock act. But the words issuing from Coughlan’s pen were what made them a defiantly individual concern. His intense, raging, soul-bearing presence when they played live meant that people forgot what the rest of the band’s members looked like…all eyes were focused and trained on his mighty commanding presence.
This was carried on when Coughlan formed his next band after the first dissolution of Microdisney in 1988 when both he and other main man Sean O’ Hagan pursued wildly divergent paths – the latter crafting beautifully opulent and pastoral acoustic/electronic-soundscapes as the Beach Boys / Van Dyke Parks-influenced High Llamas, and Coughlan continuing to stamp his indelible commanding presence with the far more confrontational and uncompromisingly eclectic Fatima Mansions.
A band who were so wilfully perverse, but nevertheless utterly ferocious and gripping when witnessed live, they even ended up memorably desecrating a Bryan Adams number one hit for a charity album and then scoring a top ten UK hit with it on the back of another cover (Theme From M*A*S*H) by the notably more celebrated Manic Street Preachers!
The Mansions’ fire burned very brightly and fiercely for less than 5 years before they too were done….and since then Coughlan’s several solo ventures that have taken place on and off in the 20 years since have been nothing short of fascinating – touching on all imaginable bases such as puerile satirical sketches, stately Scott Walker-esque balladry, sonic experimentation, song/spoken word pieces, and intriguing concept albums about ‘an alternative history of the British Isles’, collaborating with other artists as diverse as late comedian Sean Hughes, renowned songwriter Luke Haines, French composer François Ribac, cellist Audrey Riley and more recently producer Garret ‘Jacknife’ Lee under the name Telefís. From: https://louderthanwar.com/the-fatima-mansions-valhalla-avenue-1992-2022-30-years-on/
