Snippets from recent press stories about the Pogues, making me feel like a ghost within the gossip.
Contact Music / Ireland Online, 8th Dec:
The Pogues frontman Shane MacGowan infuriated band members by taking an impromptu holiday to Morocco when he should have been rehearsing with them. MacGowan suddenly reappeared in London, just in time to record a new version of the Christmas track Fairytale Of New York with singer Katie Melua for UK chatshow Tonight With Jonathan Ross.
A source says: “Shane is a free spirit. He thought he’d rather be exploring Africa than rehearsing.
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From The Independent (UK), 16 December 2005, Pogues accordionist James Fearnley’s diary:
[At their first December rehearsal] We don’t expect to be seeing Shane MacGowan. He’s in Morocco, or on his way back from Morocco. It’s a mystery how he gets there without help, since [his manager] had not accompanied him, so we’re told. It’s a further mystery how he gets back.
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Barry Egan in the Sunday Independent (Ireland). Sun, Dec 18, 2005:
No one had appeared to know where Shane was. There were reports he was in Morocco. Or Spain. So this was like a tip-off from the CIA about the whereabouts of Bin Laden.
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But what could I expect them to write? ‘Fairytale Of Tangier: Who Is Mystery Blond In Shane’s Life?’ Still, it’s all good press for the Pogues concerts, and indeed the re-release of ‘Fairytale Of New York’ this week, which I urge all my readers to buy. A couple of very good reasons: it’s a benefit single for both the Justice For Kirsty MacColl campaign and the homeless charity, Crisis At Christmas.
Also, the likes of the ‘X Factor’ drivel really must be stopped from grasping the Xmas Number One. Apparently the TV talent show puppetmasters have even selected someone called ‘Shayne’ to front their latest aural atrocity. A typo to the throne.
It’s also Mr MacGowan’s birthday on December 25th. A Number One single would be a pretty good present, particularly as ‘Fairytale’ was denied the top spot on its original release in 1987.
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Tangier, Morocco, early December, early morning. I coerce Mr MacGowan into joining me for breakfast, if only to sample the hotel breakfast room’s incredibly ornate lampshades and decor.
He grabs one of the ubiquitous bottles of mineral water, Sidi Ali, and suggests a quick photo opportunity.
“Here, take a photo of me with this. They could use it as an advert, heh heh.”
The bottle itself contained gin and tonic.
