The man who SWEATED ROCK’N’ROLL

Generations of rockers of every stripe would come together for one event: a Rory Gallagher gig. That ritual is long gone, along with the man himself, but the feeling lingers on for thousands of fans touched by his unfussy, unglittery artistry. Gavin Martin recalls the ultimate tragedy and undying triumph of Ireland’s greatest rock icon

The man who SWEATED ROCK’N’ROLL

Rory Gallagher’s 1961 sunburst Stratocaster is a prized rock’n’roll relic brought out of storage for special occasions. Earlier this year, on 3 March, the night that would have marked the 63rd birthday of the late, great Irish guitar player, songwriter and folk hero, the Strat was placed in a Perspex box and put on display in the bar adjacent to the screening room at The Courthouse Hotel in London’s West End.

There it sat, an added attraction to a press and media showing of the remastered Blu-ray release of Tony Palmer’s celebrated Rory rockumentary, Irish Tour ’74.

The movie’s distributors had suggested asking Fender to lend one of the replica Tributes, which the guitar makers had first produced in 1997 in honour of Rory’s uniquely disfigured axe, to accompany the screening.

Rory’s younger brother Donal was Gallagher’s manager for most of his career and, since Rory’s death in 1995, has been the keeper of his legacy. When Donal heard the distributor’s suggestion he had a better idea. Why not bring the original guitar and a few other instruments Rory is seen using in the film to accompany the screening? Rory’s whole musical ethos had been evangelical, concerned with sharing and spreading the musical tradition that had got …

by Gavin Martin
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