Irish legend Ronnie Drew passed away on 16 August after a brilliant career. Many hearts are flying at half-mast.

I have a 40 year-old mate from Finglas called Colm, one of several unwitting sources of Irish music music history prior to my time. Always ready with a quip and a smile, he’s got more friends than anyone I know and makes more everywhere he goes.
These days he loves Ham Sandwich and Aslan though one day I’ll throw his Paul Potts album out the car window.
To see his real passion shine through, I only have to hit play on my Heroes CD. This guy pulled chicks to Teenage Kicks and caught Philo’s vibe before Jape made him an eye in the sky. His heart broke to U2 and as a roofer in the City of London, he would have loved Microdisney but one golden era owned his heart. Or one man.
Sharing simple tastes - a song, a glass, a cheer, lashings of pride - Colm’s hero had only one contender: Muhammed Ali, whose hand he shook on O’Connell Street in 1972. A fair match.
“Ronnie fuckin’ Drew! The Dubliners!” His eyes shine like Christmas lights. “Made me the man I am today!”

Well done Ronnie, you did well. Feel free to dish out arse-kickings from the sky. Pass on our love to the other lads and listen out for the clink of a million raised glasses: you’ll be sorely missed, more than you’d ever tolerate in person.

This entry was posted on Monday, August 18th, 2008 at 11:08 am and is filed under Music, News. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.