An odd coincidence has cropped up on the release schedule: two films about (ahem) senior rock musicians called Kelly, both of whom had fathers famous in the Irish 1970s.
Arriving two weeks ago, The Song Cycle saw Nick Kelly, late of The Fat Lady Sings, accommodating memories of the politician and legal academic John Kelly. Now Justin Kelly, lyricist of Sons of Southern Ulster, discusses life in the Co Cavan town of Bailieborough with the former Army captain James Kelly, found not guilty in the Arms Trial of 1970.
That’s just one diversion in a documentary that is much taken up with not going gentle into any good night. Back in the postpunk years, Justin Kelly formed a band called Panic Merchants with his friends David Meagher, Paddy Glackin and Noel Larkin.
Early sections of the film find them recalling the oddness of trying to be The Damned in a remote corner of Cavan. Lovely archive footage shows an Ireland that really does look a different country. They visit the site of an early gig. “Has any punk band played there since?” one asks, laughing.
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They never got to headline the Hammersmith Odeon. Life intervened and the band dispersed to the four winds. There the story paused until, following a middle-aged meeting, they toyed with the notion of recording new music.
So were born Sons of Southern Ulster, an abrasive rock outfit, featuring Kelly’s largely spoken lyrics, who went on to establish an intimate cult following. “Cavan, Monaghan, Donegal: the three counties the Brits didn’t want and the Irish don’t give a shit about,” they say proudly of the band’s name.
Every documentary needs a direction of travel, and Frank Shouldice, also director of The Man Who Wanted to Fly, finds his in the band’s decision to meet up for a gig at an iconic venue on Wexford Street in Dublin. “Bunch of old fellas? Bellies? Pints? Whelan’s!” someone concludes.
Subtitles attempt to inject some urgency – “37 Days to Whelan’s” – but there is never any sense that they will have to stage Aida or build a suspension bridge in that time.
The second half is a gentle amble towards an expected destination. Along the unhurried way we hear about illness, parenthood and changing attitudes to homosexuality in Ireland. Like the band itself, the documentary has a slightly shaggy feel, but few over a certain age will fail to be moved.
In cinemas from Friday, May 15th
