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| Kieran Conway |
Conway belonged to the generation radicalised by the civil rights struggles of the late 1960s — in the United States and in Ireland. When British troops were sent to defend the Orange state in 1969, he understood, like thousands of others, that Ireland’s oppressed minority had no choice but to defend themselves. He became a revolutionary. He left behind a comfortable middle-class existence to join the IRA, first in England and then as part of the leadership. Conway rose to the IRA’s GHQ staff and at one point served as Director of Intelligence, playing a central role in the mid-1970s reorganisation of the movement.
He endured prison and exile, and when the Adams leadership steered the movement into constitutionalism, Conway broke ranks. He resigned after the Downing Street Declaration in 1993, correctly recognising that it represented a historic surrender: the acceptance of the unionist veto, the principle of consent, and with it the defeat of republicanism as a revolutionary force.
His 2014 memoir, Southside Provisional, was written without apology or repentance for his role in the armed struggle. It exposed the mendacity of Gerry Adams and Co — the lies told to their own base as they edged ever closer to administering British rule. Tellingly, Conway struggled to find a publisher willing to take the book, a reflection of the censorship imposed on any account that challenged the official narrative of ‘peace’.
Conway opposed the Good Friday Agreement and the sanitised ‘peace’ it produced. He never disguised that opposition. He stood as a reminder that the struggle was for national liberation and socialism, not for seats in Stormont or careers in government.
In later years he trained and practised as a criminal defence solicitor in Dublin, continuing to defend the oppressed against the state. But his greatest legacy is political: the testimony he left that cuts through the mythology of the peace process and the silencing of revolutionary voices.
Kieran Conway’s passing matters because it underlines what the ruling class and its nationalist partners want buried — the fact that the so-called settlement in Ireland was not a victory for the oppressed, but a managed defeat. The lesson for today’s movement is clear: revolutions are betrayed from within as well as defeated from without. Those who still stand for an anti-imperialist, socialist Ireland must study Conway’s life and his critique, not to mourn, but to prepare.
☭ This obituary featured in Fight Racism! Fight Imperialism in October 2025.
It was Gerry Adams who stirred me into entering a war that I could have so easily ignored from my cosy middle-class suburb.
My hero became my leader, he embodied the struggle, the strategy and the endurance that the long war demanded. His clinical ruthlessness, his unbending demeanour and his personal dignity were traits that were admired by even his most ardent enemies at a time when republicans and republicanism were under fire.
In the post ceasefire years, I got to know him, not closely but well enough to confirm the old adage that you should never meet your heroes. Unlike Martin McGuinness, I found Gerry A quite a disagreeable person. Martin always had a smile and a handshake, a most charming man. Gerry was cold and demanded veneration.
To question Gerry now is a deeply uncomfortable reckoning. There is guilt in it and a sense that I am betraying my past self. Like Michael Phillips, when I look in the mirror, the young man, who gave so much, fleetingly looks back at me and wryly informs me that I should have known better.
In castigating The Beard, it hurts and it shames because it necessitates that my past and my present collide reopening old and painful wounds. Silence, however, would extract too great a cost from my conscience and impede my journey of healing.
There is unique pathology which takes hold of men (mostly men) who have survived history and helped shape destiny. The Emperor Caligula, Stalin and Bonaparte all exhibited the personality traits associated with “God Complex”. God complex is a phenomenon that does not manifest itself as insanity but in an unnerving conviction that events and history can be shaped according to their will.
Deus Vult: God Wills It
Adams, remapped Republicanism, throughout the last period of our conflict. Every road, the armed struggle, negotiations, decommissioning and the peace process ran back through his leadership of the IRA and Sinn Fein.
His function now, while no longer Presidential, remains of critical importance to the Sinn Fein project and also his careful curation of his own memory. Writing his own epitaph pre-mortem requires the redrawing of moral and historical boundaries.
Denial and reinvention are now his most trusted weapons. He was adjacent to the IRA but not intimate (allegedly) and therefore not accountable for their actions, he alone had the vision for peace, and he alone possessed the knowhow and cunning to deliver it; and Saint Gerry delivered.
Adams’ gerrymandering of history is slowly unravelling, with every legacy investigation and every time the unburied dead bear inconvenient witness, the truth emerges bit by bit. His commentary increasingly demonstrates that his god complex cannot tolerate such disruption to his well-managed eulogy.
The Andytout News affords Gerry A a weekly platform to share his insight with its few hundred readers, a column which is more akin to a papal edict than an opinion piece in a low brow tabloid. Like the Pope, Adams, who now claims to speak “ex cathedra”, writes with the cadence of infallibility and an arrogant conviction that he is immune from error and shall not be challenged or contradicted. Infallible by definition rather than by argument, for his flatterers, if Gerry says it then it must be so.
While the Church has largely moved away from the idea of Papal infallibility, Gerry surrounds himself with a group of sycophants who cater to his ego and uphold his sense of being infallible. These people are not fools (not all of them), rather opportunists who have learned that proximity to power and wealth necessitates the suspension of curiosity.
Their brownnosing is as dishonest as it is corrosive, but it offers them the comfort of a rationale that the bloodshed while regrettable was also unavoidable, and that the final settlement vindicates us all of guilt or blame. The duty of the gaggle of Adams’ flatterers is to accept the myth, applaud the amnesia and nod through the contradictions while genuflecting at the altar of the peace process.
There is a cost to this parasitic arrangement, and as always it is paid by the victims outside the room, those whose experiences and memories do not align with the infallible former MP for Belfast West. There are claims that critical examination threatens to undermine a nearly 30-year-old ceasefire, and that those who seek transparency or accountability and the truth are opponents of the never-ending peace process.
Saint Gerry does not tolerate heresy, not because heresy is wrong but because it is a reminder that believing in Gerry was always optional and dissent from his teaching may well expose him as an ordinary and fallible human.
No Big Suprise - No Shit Sherlock
In his latest Papal Bull, Adams broaches what should have personally been an awkward subject: Kenova. Unlike the Catholic Church, Adams and the Movement have yet to learn that public opinion can be quickly swivelled by humility, an unconditional admission of guilt and a meaningful apology.
Adams’ piece offers a familiar choreography, written as a bystander, someone who was not central to the creation of the Internal Security Unit and therefore not diminished by its actions. He resurrects the ghosts of Brian Nelson, the securocrats and the RUC to confirm his analysis that the “Kenova revelations come as no big surprise”.
Adams deploys his gravitas and privilege to blame the Brits and assert that, just like the Stevens Investigation, the Brits hindered the Kenova investigation team. No explanation is given as to why the IRA refused to cooperate with Kenova even though the movement now endorses the legitimacy of British policing in this part of Ireland. No clarification is given as to why Sinn Fein provided political cover for Scap for years.
Kenova is contextualised within the comfort zone of British culpability through its perfidious intelligence agencies, yet no similar analysis is provided on the machinery deployed by the IRA to maintain internal security.
Stakeknife was an IRA Volunteer, he did not operate independently. Every single act of torture, interrogation and every single execution was at the behest of the IRA and primarily the IRA Army Council who directed the ISU. In an epistle where Adams could have and should have displayed a modicum of humility and contrition, he chose the detachment and arrogance of the infallible.
More importantly what is absent from the Adams opinion piece is any acknowledgement of the people who carried the cost of the ISU. The men and the women who were abducted, interrogated, brutalised and murdered. Families who continue to demand the truth, real people whose suffering is as real as those families championed by the horde of “relatives’ groups”. When their relatives were murdered by the IRA (not the Brits) families were told by the IRA that they had to absorb their grief and not “create a fuss.” These are the families Adams continues to ignore. His omission of an apology was not an oversight, it was not a neutral position, it was a continued exercise of his power and further demonstration of his god complex.
Similar to other infallible leaders such as Stalin, Churchill et al, Adams’s legacy will be tarnished over time. However diligently Adams and his flock of sycophants attempt to launder the record, history will not be kind to him. No amount of slick suited libel lawyers can supress forever what is already known. Adams was not a peripheral figure nor a passive observer of events that ran beyond his control. He was the leader of a ruthless guerrilla organisation, that included the ISU and the consequences of that leadership are his to own.
For those of us that once believed.
My hero became my leader, he embodied the struggle, the strategy and the endurance that the long war demanded. His clinical ruthlessness, his unbending demeanour and his personal dignity were traits that were admired by even his most ardent enemies at a time when republicans and republicanism were under fire.
In the post ceasefire years, I got to know him, not closely but well enough to confirm the old adage that you should never meet your heroes. Unlike Martin McGuinness, I found Gerry A quite a disagreeable person. Martin always had a smile and a handshake, a most charming man. Gerry was cold and demanded veneration.
To question Gerry now is a deeply uncomfortable reckoning. There is guilt in it and a sense that I am betraying my past self. Like Michael Phillips, when I look in the mirror, the young man, who gave so much, fleetingly looks back at me and wryly informs me that I should have known better.
In castigating The Beard, it hurts and it shames because it necessitates that my past and my present collide reopening old and painful wounds. Silence, however, would extract too great a cost from my conscience and impede my journey of healing.
Q. What is the difference between Gerry Adams and God?
A. God does not think he is Gerry Adams.
There is unique pathology which takes hold of men (mostly men) who have survived history and helped shape destiny. The Emperor Caligula, Stalin and Bonaparte all exhibited the personality traits associated with “God Complex”. God complex is a phenomenon that does not manifest itself as insanity but in an unnerving conviction that events and history can be shaped according to their will.
Deus Vult: God Wills It
Adams, remapped Republicanism, throughout the last period of our conflict. Every road, the armed struggle, negotiations, decommissioning and the peace process ran back through his leadership of the IRA and Sinn Fein.
His function now, while no longer Presidential, remains of critical importance to the Sinn Fein project and also his careful curation of his own memory. Writing his own epitaph pre-mortem requires the redrawing of moral and historical boundaries.
Denial and reinvention are now his most trusted weapons. He was adjacent to the IRA but not intimate (allegedly) and therefore not accountable for their actions, he alone had the vision for peace, and he alone possessed the knowhow and cunning to deliver it; and Saint Gerry delivered.
Adams’ gerrymandering of history is slowly unravelling, with every legacy investigation and every time the unburied dead bear inconvenient witness, the truth emerges bit by bit. His commentary increasingly demonstrates that his god complex cannot tolerate such disruption to his well-managed eulogy.
The Andytout News affords Gerry A a weekly platform to share his insight with its few hundred readers, a column which is more akin to a papal edict than an opinion piece in a low brow tabloid. Like the Pope, Adams, who now claims to speak “ex cathedra”, writes with the cadence of infallibility and an arrogant conviction that he is immune from error and shall not be challenged or contradicted. Infallible by definition rather than by argument, for his flatterers, if Gerry says it then it must be so.
While the Church has largely moved away from the idea of Papal infallibility, Gerry surrounds himself with a group of sycophants who cater to his ego and uphold his sense of being infallible. These people are not fools (not all of them), rather opportunists who have learned that proximity to power and wealth necessitates the suspension of curiosity.
Their brownnosing is as dishonest as it is corrosive, but it offers them the comfort of a rationale that the bloodshed while regrettable was also unavoidable, and that the final settlement vindicates us all of guilt or blame. The duty of the gaggle of Adams’ flatterers is to accept the myth, applaud the amnesia and nod through the contradictions while genuflecting at the altar of the peace process.
There is a cost to this parasitic arrangement, and as always it is paid by the victims outside the room, those whose experiences and memories do not align with the infallible former MP for Belfast West. There are claims that critical examination threatens to undermine a nearly 30-year-old ceasefire, and that those who seek transparency or accountability and the truth are opponents of the never-ending peace process.
Saint Gerry does not tolerate heresy, not because heresy is wrong but because it is a reminder that believing in Gerry was always optional and dissent from his teaching may well expose him as an ordinary and fallible human.
No Big Suprise - No Shit Sherlock
In his latest Papal Bull, Adams broaches what should have personally been an awkward subject: Kenova. Unlike the Catholic Church, Adams and the Movement have yet to learn that public opinion can be quickly swivelled by humility, an unconditional admission of guilt and a meaningful apology.
Adams’ piece offers a familiar choreography, written as a bystander, someone who was not central to the creation of the Internal Security Unit and therefore not diminished by its actions. He resurrects the ghosts of Brian Nelson, the securocrats and the RUC to confirm his analysis that the “Kenova revelations come as no big surprise”.
Adams deploys his gravitas and privilege to blame the Brits and assert that, just like the Stevens Investigation, the Brits hindered the Kenova investigation team. No explanation is given as to why the IRA refused to cooperate with Kenova even though the movement now endorses the legitimacy of British policing in this part of Ireland. No clarification is given as to why Sinn Fein provided political cover for Scap for years.
Kenova is contextualised within the comfort zone of British culpability through its perfidious intelligence agencies, yet no similar analysis is provided on the machinery deployed by the IRA to maintain internal security.
Stakeknife was an IRA Volunteer, he did not operate independently. Every single act of torture, interrogation and every single execution was at the behest of the IRA and primarily the IRA Army Council who directed the ISU. In an epistle where Adams could have and should have displayed a modicum of humility and contrition, he chose the detachment and arrogance of the infallible.
More importantly what is absent from the Adams opinion piece is any acknowledgement of the people who carried the cost of the ISU. The men and the women who were abducted, interrogated, brutalised and murdered. Families who continue to demand the truth, real people whose suffering is as real as those families championed by the horde of “relatives’ groups”. When their relatives were murdered by the IRA (not the Brits) families were told by the IRA that they had to absorb their grief and not “create a fuss.” These are the families Adams continues to ignore. His omission of an apology was not an oversight, it was not a neutral position, it was a continued exercise of his power and further demonstration of his god complex.
Similar to other infallible leaders such as Stalin, Churchill et al, Adams’s legacy will be tarnished over time. However diligently Adams and his flock of sycophants attempt to launder the record, history will not be kind to him. No amount of slick suited libel lawyers can supress forever what is already known. Adams was not a peripheral figure nor a passive observer of events that ran beyond his control. He was the leader of a ruthless guerrilla organisation, that included the ISU and the consequences of that leadership are his to own.
For those of us that once believed.
⏩Muiris Ó Súilleabháin was a member of the Republican Movement until he retired in 2006 after 20 years of service. Fiche bhliain ag fás.
Ten links to a diverse range of opinion that might be of interest to TPQ readers. They are selected not to invite agreement but curiosity. Readers can submit links to pieces they find thought provoking.
Before We Conform, Or Condemn, Let Us At Least Be Curious
♜One recognizes one's course by discovering the paths that stray from it - Albert Camus♞
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| Gerard Hucker Moyna |
Many conflict killings were attributed to Hucker, not all of them accurately so according to some of his former comrades who nevertheless acknowledge his operational efficiency in close quarter situations. Seemingly, the legend he grew into within physical force republicanism acquired a life of its own which some in the media were to prone to amplify and others to repeat.
Caught in 1984 he received a ten year sentence, and for a time while was on the red book in the H Blocks, which meant he spent only a short time on each of the wings. It was always enjoyable to see him arrive because he had excellent bullshit antennae. The Kool-Aid crowd tended to give him a wide berth. He breezed through jail as if he hadn't a care in the world. An intelligent guy but one who never picked up a book. Uniquely for the H Blocks his cell was a book free zone. He kept abreast of events through the radio which he played constantly.
A raconteur and wit, he once said that a certain SF councillor must be the bravest man alive. When asked to explain, his reasoning was simple: Every night he sits in terror that the IRA will kill him for being such a coward. Anybody that can survive that one day after another has to be brave.
One famous Hucker line was crafted outside the prison in the wake of an IRA operation which went wrong. The intended target was supposedly a prison officer by the name of Davy Long. Sitting in a bar when he heard what happened Hucker quipped to his drinking companion, I see the IRA shot Davy Wrong.That was typical Hucker, equipped with a wit that he would frequently deliver with relish when venting his low tolerance for Sinn Feiners.
He had come into the H blocks at a time when within the Republican Movement the Blanketmen were being eclipsed by the Banquet men. In his view, Sinn Fein, was a hiding place for those who did not want to go to jail so avoided the IRA. He did not share the view of Bobby Sands that everybody had their part to play, big or small, feeling that the IRA was being played by Sinn Fein with its ever growing pool of careerists. Trying to persuade him that armed struggle alone was never going to go far was never the most successful of ventures.
I would run into him on the outside occasionally. One Sunday morning I chanced across him on the Whiterock Road not too long after the first IRA ceasefire of 1994. He told me he had been gripped on the orders of the leadership, When he turned up for the meeting he was asked to place a hood over his head. He refused, telling his interlocuters the most he would do was face the wall. His resentment was down to a feeling on his part that the people talking to him had previously sworn to prevent any sell out and now here they were standing behind him in a darkened bedroom feeling his collar because he had openly stated his opposition to what he felt was a sell out.
He later became involved in the IPLO after which he moved into some of the other physical force republican groups. One one occasion in 1997 he sustained a serious hand injury when the detonator of the device he was ferrying through Belfast city centre exploded. It resulted in the loss of several fingers and a prison sentence in Portlaoise after he had arrived in Sligo Hospital to be treated for his wounds.
Hucker was immensely well got by his fellow operators. Even if they regarded him as a bit of a loose cannon, he was known to be a can-do-man; somebody who would deliver the operational goods. He was not so well got by leadership figures who would seek to undermine him in a bid to prevent his stature taking on proportions larger than they were comfortable dealing with.
My last encounter with him was on a Belfast bus as I was travelling to Twinbrook to visit my mother. On seeing him I jumped into the seat beside him. He had lost none of his acerbic wit or scepticism.
In April of last year, before the cortege set off for his final journey along the Falls Road, which he had traversed thousands of times, a volley of shots was fired over his coffin. He would have had it no other way.
I would run into him on the outside occasionally. One Sunday morning I chanced across him on the Whiterock Road not too long after the first IRA ceasefire of 1994. He told me he had been gripped on the orders of the leadership, When he turned up for the meeting he was asked to place a hood over his head. He refused, telling his interlocuters the most he would do was face the wall. His resentment was down to a feeling on his part that the people talking to him had previously sworn to prevent any sell out and now here they were standing behind him in a darkened bedroom feeling his collar because he had openly stated his opposition to what he felt was a sell out.
He later became involved in the IPLO after which he moved into some of the other physical force republican groups. One one occasion in 1997 he sustained a serious hand injury when the detonator of the device he was ferrying through Belfast city centre exploded. It resulted in the loss of several fingers and a prison sentence in Portlaoise after he had arrived in Sligo Hospital to be treated for his wounds.
Hucker was immensely well got by his fellow operators. Even if they regarded him as a bit of a loose cannon, he was known to be a can-do-man; somebody who would deliver the operational goods. He was not so well got by leadership figures who would seek to undermine him in a bid to prevent his stature taking on proportions larger than they were comfortable dealing with.
My last encounter with him was on a Belfast bus as I was travelling to Twinbrook to visit my mother. On seeing him I jumped into the seat beside him. He had lost none of his acerbic wit or scepticism.
In April of last year, before the cortege set off for his final journey along the Falls Road, which he had traversed thousands of times, a volley of shots was fired over his coffin. He would have had it no other way.
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| ⏩Follow on Twitter @AnthonyMcIntyre. |
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| Horns up |
20. Public Enemy – Black Skies Over the Projects: Apartment 2025
Five years on from the excellent, if somewhat self-celebratory, ‘What
You Gonna Do When The Grid Goes Down?’, Chuck D and Flava Flav are back with
another fine record to their name. While they’re never going to be as
incendiary sounding as they were in 1987, it’s heartening that they’re still
putting out LPs with humour, anger and groove.
19. Ramleh – Hyper Vigilance
For those of us who have followed Gary Mundy’s musical journey over the
last few decades, it’s not surprising to note that Hyper Vigilance is a lot
more post-punk/post-rock in its outlook as opposed to dissonant noise (of which
there is a fair bit of as well. ‘New
National Anthem’ is a perfect example of this approach and by God it’s
astonishing.
18. 1186 – Histeria
Although released digitally in 2024, the pressing on vinyl from earlier
this year qualifies it for this list as far as I’m concerned. And for good
reason as this record from Colombia is a prime example of deathpunk: goth
played by punks. How could you listen to a song like ‘Ataque Sistemático’ and
not get chills?
17. Coroner – Dissonance Theory
When your labelmates were Celtic Frost, Voivod and Kreator, you had no
choice but to up your game or be pushed aside. For their first album in 30 odd years, the
Rush of death metal have come back with a monster release that gives the
classic sound a modern sheen. ‘Sacrificial Lamb’ gets the nod for some sick
guitar leads.
16. Home Front – Watch it Die
An odd listen in that it combines synth-pop, punk rock riffage, soaring
choruses and vocals that attempt to be both passionate and dispassionate,
somehow all these disparate elements come together to produce something utterly
compelling, not a million miles away from the likes of High Vis. ‘New Madness’
sums up this eclecticism.
15. Hellshock – XXV
Marking 25 years since their formation in Portland, Oregan, these crust
legends have only gone and made their finest record to date. With Todd Burdette
from Tragedy and Nightfell on 2nd guitar, the sound moves closer in
tone to late period Celtic Frost and (unsurprisingly) Tragedy.
14. The Saints – Long March Through the Jazz Age
The final release from Brisbane (by way of Belfast) singer Chris Bailey,
this may not be a raucous album in the tradition of I’m Stranded and Eternally
Yours but it is a damn fine country and roots record, showing that Bailey was
determined to follow his own muse regardless of his legacy. ‘Vikings’ gets the
nod.
13. Laibach – Alamut
Laibach
aren’t strangers to grandiose concepts and this might be their grandest yet. Recorded
with the RTV Slovenia Symphony Orchestra and several choirs, Alamut is
based on Slovenian novelist Vladimir Bartol’s book which was sarcastically
dedicated to Benito Mussolini when it was published. Over 2 hours long, it’s a
gorgeous and stirring record.
12. Combust – Belly of the Beast
NYHC hasn’t sounded this metallic since ‘Best Wishes’ by the Cro-Mags.
Filled with gang vocals, breakdowns, divebomb solos and oozing menace, this is
a stellar release. 12 songs filled with anger and intensity that runs to 30
minutes with ‘Swallowing Swords’ and ‘Truth Hurts’ being particular highlights.
11. Intensive Care/The Body – Was I Good Enough?
Supposedly, multi-genre legends The Body sent over rough
sketches to death industrial Intensive Care who then added parts before
chopping and screwing the results. The end result is a dissonant, cut and paste
sense which is not far removed from the early Mark Stewart albums.
10. LA Witch – DOGGOD
A shocking five years have passed since the underrated ‘Play with Fire’
and they’re back with more garage influenced post punk, albeit with slightly
more emphasis on the post punk this time around. Songs like ‘777’ give off
autumnal vibes due to the brittle (yet cutting) guitar tone while ‘Eyes of
Love’ perfectly meshes The Gun Club with The Sound.
9. The Young Gods – Appear Disappear
It’s been a rough few years for TYG singer Franz Treichler due to the
death of his wife. However, that seems to have given him and the band a focus to
return to basics after the underrated Data Mirage Tangram and the instrumental
piece In C. Although the ethereal atmospherics are still present, the rock
element is more upfront this time.
8. Cathedral – Society’s Pact with Satan
Apparently recorded at the same time as the underwhelming ‘The Last
Spire’ and recently rediscovered, one would have to question how this was
allowed to be forgotten as it is an utter belter. A 30-minute track that
encompasses what made Cathedral such a legendary band, the blend of psych,
folk, stoner and doom is revitalising.
7. Guiltless – Teeth to Sky
As a follow up to one of the finest releases of 2024, Guiltless are back with a full length release and what a monster it is. Mixing math rock, post metal and noise rock into a powerful, overwhelming and apocalyptic sounding release, Guiltless made the first essential release of the year. In particular, listen to ‘Our Serpent in Circle’ and feel the power on display.6. Drain - …Is Your Friend
The third album from the Santa Cruz crossover thrashers ups the ante
from the previous two records: the riffs are faster; the vocals are more pissed
off and the drums groove in a way that they previously haven’t. Despite the
colourful cover, this is an angry LP that takes aim at the rat race, former
friends and critics. ‘Nothing But Love’ is the daddy of the record.
5. The Ex – If Your Mirror Breaks
Dutch legends The Ex continue their idiosyncratic journey from anarcho-punks to art punks without ever compromising their principles. Although not a million miles away from 2018’s ’27 Passports’, this is no bad thing as ‘If Your Mirror Breaks’ is an immediate, angular and tuneful record with ‘Wheel’ being the standout number.4. Manic Street Preachers – Critical Thinking
The last few Manics albums have been ruminations on aging as the world
you knew collapses. While in a similar vein, this is much more optimistic LP in
its outlook with songs accepting that humans aren’t perfect (‘People Ruin
Paintings’), finding catharsis in reconciling the old and young self (‘Hiding
in Plain Sight’) and standing firm against the madness (‘OneManMilitia’).
3. HAIM – I Quit
Their first album in five years is a little sprawling and a tad confused
in terms of lyrics, but it’s appropriate considering that the theme running
throughout is the end of relationships and what happens next. Musically, a lot
more acoustic and less poppy than previous outings which further the mood of
introspection and confusion. Sampling U2 on the final song? *chef’s kiss*
2. Turnstile – Never Enough
One of the records that will define the summer of 2025, Turnstile return
with another record that blurs the boundaries between hardcore, pop (80’s and
current) and alt rock. Maybe not quite as breath taking as 2021’s ‘Glow On’ but
songs like ‘I Care’, ‘Slowdive’ and ‘Sunshower’ certainly help lift the mood
whenever one is feeling down in this heat.
1. Swans – Birthing
For the final release of this iteration of Swans (according to Michael
Gira), they’ve gone out with a bang. Easily their most astonishing LP since
2014’s ‘To Be Kind’, the power on display throughout is nothing short of
breath-taking: ‘I Am a Tower’ and the title track make the listener feel like
they’re standing on a mountain during a storm, challenging God to deliver more.
⏩ Christopher Owens was a reviewer for Metal Ireland and finds time to study the history and inherent contradictions of Ireland. He is currently the TPQ Friday columnist.
Ten links to a diverse range of opinion that might be of interest to TPQ readers. They are selected not to invite agreement but curiosity. Readers can submit links to pieces they find thought provoking.
Before We Conform, Or Condemn, Let Us At Least Be Curious
♜One recognizes one's course by discovering the paths that stray from it - Albert Camus♞
 |
| Lori Doherty |
She died in the summer after a long bout of cancer induced illness.
Lori was the second of nine children, four of whom are now deceased, Pauline, Rebecca, Martin and Lori. Against the order of things she survived her three younger siblings by several years.
As kids, sibling rivalry dictated the terms of the relationship, so while we didn't actually fight like cat and dog, the cat calling and dog whistling was intense. She didn't like being told what to do by her older brother. I didn't like my younger sister not doing what I told her to do. If she beat me at draughts, Ludo, snakes and ladders, even Tiddlywinks, a big brother's sense of threatened privilege kicked in and the huff prevailed. Our father, who was a wind up merchant, of course sided with one or the other to get the rise. He labelled me Onion Head and Lori became Buckets McGaughey. The taunts were thrown around like confetti. My mother was fed up hearing that Buckets did this or Onion Head did that, while my father revelled in the turbulence he had created.
Christmas Day was always special and a truce prevailed which lasted until Boxing day. Probably no different from most siblings at that age.
Then prison claimed hold of me for many years so the last Christmas Day I spent in the family home was 1973. We had gone on to lead very separate lives.
Lori married Paul Doherty, who most unfortunately died in tragic circumstances earlier this month. They were inseparable. I first met him in 1989 on my opening home leave from prison in August. Temporarily released on Friday I arrived in her North Belfast home on a Sunday, the first I had saw her in years. By now she was in Lori persona. Prior to my moving out of the family home to take up compulsory residence in one of Her Majesty's abodes - where people like me were sent but not Her Majesty's son or Jimmy Saville - she was always known as Dolores.
Lori and Paul developed what was socially in family terms an almost hermetically sealed privacy. They lived for each other and guarded their privacy with fortified resilience. I would meet her at funerals of other family members. In circumstances where death was preceded by a prolonged illness she and Paul would regularly be in attendance. By this stage our sibling rivalry days had long since passed and we would chew the fat without tasting the rancour of infant feuding.
I never questioned her privacy or wanted her to change it to accommodate me. How she decided to live her life was entirely a matter for her. When she died her siblings were unaware of the illness that was claiming her bodily territory organ by organ. She left very strict instructions with Paul that no one, friends or family, was to be informed of her death before a month had passed. None of us were at the cremation, she was ash long before we knew she had died.
I remember the moment that my sister Katie rang me to tell me she had passed. I was walking the dog, minutes form home, when the call came through. Katie and I would talk regularly, mostly about the woes of Liverpool, but when I saw her name come up on as the caller ID, I had this sense of foreboding that she was not contacting me to talk about soccer. It is just one of those inexplicable feelings we get, maybe the result of quantum physics, something Lori would have understood much better than I. There is no superstitious explanation that might explain that feeling. Like the rest of the family Lori was a physicalist, not given to believing there were explanations outside the laws of physics, chemistry and biology for our existence and the end of it.
Although momentarily jolted by news of her passing I was entirely philosophical about the funeral arrangements she had set in place. She lived life on her own terms and stuck with them until the very end. Not much wrong with that I felt. The way to go, Lori.
at our core, human beings can’t deal with death. It’s nothingness, it’s kaput, it’s over . . . We use our imagination to come to terms with it. We talk about going over to the other side or crossing the river.
A valid point but not an iron law of existence that I feel governed by. Death is the paradox that ends all life while at the same time being a crucial part of it. Only that which can die can ever have life. To be able to die is a vital component of life without which life cannot exist. Lori reached the age of 67. It could have been longer but it was a life authentically lived. She had to be able to die in order to have lived.
An intelligent woman, she had degrees in both law and physics as well as being a qualified chef. But in the end, above all else she was my sister. I don't mourn her passing in any sombre sense, preferring to acknowledge her life as filled with the meaning she put into it.
Eternal Dreamless Sleep, Lori.
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MERRY XMAS 2025 TO ALL OUR READERS @ THE PENSIVE QUILL
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| By Dixie Elliot |
CHRISTMAS IS NOT A TIME TO BE LISTENING TO THE HATE THEOLOGY OF THE PASTORDS AND THEIR THREATS OF HELL.
CHRISTMAS IS THE SEASON OF LOVE, NOT HATE.
TAKE TO THE BEER NOT THE BIBLE.
INDULGE IN BOOZE NOT BILE.
GOD IS NOT GREAT - WHISKEY IS
PEACE TO PALESTINE & FREEDOM FROM JUDEO-NAZISM
BE GAY - DON'T PRAY
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| Cecilia Conway |
When in prison Cecilia Conway would exchange letters with me. She and her husband Matt each Christmas would send me a card. I always found her correspondence strongly supportive, the demeanour she conveyed warm. Empathy was not a trait lacking from her character.
Upon release I met both her and Matt while a guest at a Republican Sinn Fein Ard Fheis. The late Ruairi O'Bradaigh introduced me to them. While I was not drawn to that brand of politics, I knew it to be genuinely held. Republican Sinn Fein whatever its limitations was never a fertile ground for career politics to grow. The path trodden was a bumpy one, littered with setbacks, frustrations, with nothing hurting quite so much as the feeling of betrayal so often visited on the camp by those who craved constitutionalizing and gagged for gravy from the aptly named train.
As a couple their joint fidelity to a sense of republicanism that had had more principle than potential, led them to part ways with Sinn Fein once the 1986 Ard Fheis approved what was for the Conways a cardinal sin. To their mind the purgatory of political isolation was easier for them to adjust to than the hell of partitionist assemblies. A former member of Sinn Fein this morning described with a large dose of humour how the careerists would knock lumps out of each other while jostling in the queue to get jobs in Stormont. That was not for the Conways. Republican Sinn Fein seemed the natural home for both.
On the morning of Cecelia's funeral I headed out to New Abbey Cemetery, Kilcullen. A Saturday, it was a beautiful sunny day which clashes with my false memory of graveyards as being cold places on the day of interment. At Kildare train station I was fortunate to get picked up by Des Dalton. Together we headed to the church and short journey to the cemetery. Cecelia was given a republican send off, fitting for a volunteer in Cumann na mBban.
At 87 Cecilia had lived a long life. Matt Born in Dundalk it was through her husband Matt, who predeceased her by 8 years, that she became involved in republican political activism. Domiciled in England the couple returned to Ireland in 1968 and immediately immersed themselves in the republican project
On the morning of Cecelia's funeral I headed out to New Abbey Cemetery, Kilcullen. A Saturday, it was a beautiful sunny day which clashes with my false memory of graveyards as being cold places on the day of interment. At Kildare train station I was fortunate to get picked up by Des Dalton. Together we headed to the church and short journey to the cemetery. Cecelia was given a republican send off, fitting for a volunteer in Cumann na mBban.
At 87 Cecilia had lived a long life. Matt Born in Dundalk it was through her husband Matt, who predeceased her by 8 years, that she became involved in republican political activism. Domiciled in England the couple returned to Ireland in 1968 and immediately immersed themselves in the republican project
It was through her activism in the campaign groups around the prison issues including the H-Block Armagh days that she entered my life.
They remained committed to the republican vision and as expected:
They took the Republican side when Goulding and co betrayed the Republic in 1969/70 and were extremely active, especially around the Border areas throughout the 1970s and early 1980s. Both were involved in Sinn Féin in those years and set up the Kilcullen Cumann.
In November 1986 when the Movement was once more betrayed by Gerry Adams and Co Cecilia was again to the fore and she and Matt were among those who regrouped as Republican Sinn Féin in the West County Hotel.
Myself and Des, her long-term comrade, left the cemetery, knowing that we had observed the ground being nourished by enveloping her remains.
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