. . . . on a beat that goes on
SHAKIN’ ALL OVER. The Cyclones weren’t exactly The Beatles but they may well have been (nobody can say for sure) the first beat group as opposed to showband from Ireland. When the properly famous chart-topping groups came here from the UK in the 1960s, The Cyclones were good enough to be called on to be their support act. Some of the five Dublin lads were still in school the night they played support to The Searchers.
Cyclone Al, on rhythm guitar, remembers that on the day of the gig he hadn’t done his homework. The headmaster knew Cyclone Al had a big gig that night. Instead of punishing him with the standard “three of the best”, he delivered six of them, whacking his musical student full force on his guitar hand. Cyclone Al still has the photo of himself on stage that night before The Searchers came on. You can see the blood on his fingers and on his fretboard.
Do Wah Diddy Diddy. Da Doo Ron Ron. I only know about The Cyclones because my friend Mand’s Dad was a founding member. The band are part of her family folklore. Earlier this year she brought me to see them play in a Dublin tennis club, 52 years after they were formed. I’ve always been close to her Dad, Cyclone Liam, Al’s brother. I think because my own Dad died when I was eight I always gravitated to Other People’s Dads. He calls himself my HonDa on account of being my Honorary Da. He plays a mean lead guitar and gives excellent hugs.
Sweet Little 16. There Goes My First Love. I Saw Her Standing There. PS I Love You. Pretty Woman. Cyclone Liam met his wife Laura through the band. Her mother used to make sweaters for her and her friends to wear at the gigs, black they were with white lettering that spelt out The Cyclones.
“It was an incredible time but the most important thing for me during this period was meeting my future wife Laura,” says Cyclone Liam. “A stunningly beautiful girl of 15 with brains to match. I married her when she was 20, and now with four kids and seven grandchildren later, she is still as beautiful as ever.”
Monkey Business. Everyone says for a detailed history of the band it’s best to talk to lead singer Cyclone Brian. He’ll tell you all about the other members: Cyclone Paul, Cyclone Don, Cyclone Chris and Cyclone Ray. Some of them claim to have forgotten pretty much everything about those days. For example, Cyclone Al says they did one gig in England but all he can remember about it is the flight. Cyclone Brian, meanwhile, will tell you that they once did a UK tour which turned out to include the dodgiest venues, mostly strip clubs. The unpaid hotel bills followed them home after their promoter did a runner. Cyclone Brian says that in those days people thought musicians were in it for the sex and drugs and rock’n’roll. He doesn’t think any of them ever got all three.
Shadoogie. Satisfaction. Money Honey. They played the tennis and rugby club circuit, and the beat venues Sloopy’s, Zhivago’s, Flamingo, Sound City and the 5 Club. They held down day jobs but at night were in demand at clubs such as the Barn, a place run by Brendan Balfe before he ended up in RTÉ. There was a hierarchy of payment in the world of beat groups. In an interview recently Balfe said you could hire The Greenbeats, still on the road now as Full Circle, for IR£30 but The Cyclones would only cost £15. “If we knew then what we know now,” smiles Cyclone Brian.
Keep On Runnin’. The Cyclones split in the late 1960s, amicably, no musical differences. All of them kept their hand in regarding music and stayed friends, meeting over the years to talk about those heady days of Cyclone-mania. More subdued than the Beatle version maybe but no less real.
Then came their reunion phase. They got back together for their 21st anniversary in 1981 and for their 30th anniversary in 1990. There was talk about a 50th anniversary reunion in 2010 but it didn’t actually happen until last October. All the reunion gigs were for charity. The 50th raised €1,500 for MS Ireland and Cheeverstown House. What amazed Cyclone Brian was how it all came back to them 15 minutes into the first rehearsal. “We still had it.”
Three Steps to Heaven. Move It. Rockin’ Robin. Chantilly Lace. Apache. Walk In The Room. Johnny B Goode. And on and on and on. The Cyclones never did make it big. No albums, no mansions, no worldwide fame. They look back now, at the photos of themselves as young lads, their faces ablaze with self-belief. But honest to God when they see the kind of lives and deaths some of their idols had they’re glad they didn’t make it. They reckon The Cyclones got a better deal. Good families, enduring friendships, no fears of gold-diggers. They are pushing 70 now and still gigging. Their children are in the audience jiving on the dance floor.
Cyclone Al says it’s a show that can “knock you off your zimmer”.
Still got it? Never lost it.
In other news . . . The Cyclones play the Speaker Connolly pub in Firhouse, Dublin, on August 3rd from 10pm until late. Rock. (And roll.)