Grecian turn

Profile: Will Brian Kennedy, the metrosexual singer and novelist, claim his birthright and go where Johnny Logan, Linda Martin…

Profile: Will Brian Kennedy, the metrosexual singer and novelist, claim his birthright and go where Johnny Logan, Linda Martin and Niamh Kavanagh have gone before, asks Kevin Courtney

We've been on a losing streak this year. We may be trouncing the competition in economic terms, but when it comes to sport and music, let's face it - we're getting hammered. It's bad enough that we failed to qualify for the World Cup, but to get bumped out of Eurovision before even getting to the final . . . well, that's just humiliating. We can at least be sanguine about the World Cup: even if we got through, we'd probably get knocked out before the quarter-finals. But we've won the Eurovision so many times we consider it our God-given right to take first prize whenever we feel like it. We expect no less than douze points from every jury, including the British, even though we rarely give them more than one point. In those rare times when we lose, we have a ready explanation: we just didn't want the expense of hosting it again, so we graciously let someone else win.

When Father Ted and Father Dougal sang My Lovely Horse in a fictional Eurosong, they didn't realise they were being set up to lose. When Donna and Joe McCaul sang Love? at the real semi-finals this year, they were doomed to fall at the first fence.

A dejected Donna blamed their failure to qualify on "bloc voting", but Eurovision pundits knew the real reason - they just weren't professional enough. Poor Donna and Joe may have been young and enthusiastic, but they were like minnows being thrown to the sharks - and they quickly got chewed up and spat out. The Eurovision Song Contest may be cheesy, and it may not be to everybody's taste, but it's a mature brand of cheese that takes itself very seriously indeed. And you don't win it with a couple of Galtee slices.

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For the past few years, Ireland's Eurovision entry has been chosen via the You're A Star amateur talent show. Each year, some young hopeful wins the contest and is sent off with great fanfare to Eurovision, carrying their country's hopes and dreams in their little cabin case. And for the past few years they've come home completely defeated and having to face the disappointment of the fans, the cruel mocking of the music critics, and a big, maternal hug from a teary-eyed Linda Martin.

This year, You're A Star is running again, but the winner won't be going to Eurovision. The bigwigs at Montrose, once suspected of plotting to lose the Eurovision, set their minds to working out how to win the damn thing again, and decided it was time to send in a professional. What they needed was a brave and fearless Celtic warrior, an Olympian champion who could boldly go to Athens and do battle for Ireland, a skilled musical swordsman who could strike down his opponents with a well-aimed high C. This week, they found their champion, a man with the long, flowing locks of Cuchulainn, a voice sweet enough to cast magical spells, a gentle, disarming manner, and more experience than all the You're A Star contestants put together. They found Brian Kennedy.

Many serious musicians would balk at the idea of taking part in Eurovision; it's considered terminally bad for your street cred, and those who dabble in its dark arts could be forever condemned to cabaret hell. But the singer from Belfast has proven himself a resilient tunesmith, able to straddle the credibility gap with the grace of an acrobat.

HIS ALBUMS HAVE topped the charts in Ireland and been well-received in the UK. He's sung mawkish ballads that appeal to mums and grans, but also sweet soul tunes that have earned him grudging respect from the guys. He's recorded a duet with Ronan Keating but has also been a long-time musical sidekick of fellow Belfast man Van Morrison. He presents his own BBC show, Brian Kennedy on Song, and has published two novels, the semi-autobiographical The Arrival of Fergal Flynn, and its follow-up, Roman Song. He's performed on stages all over the world, and even spent a year singing in Riverdance in New York.

This won't be his first encounter with Eurovision, either: a year after Riverdance wowed the crowd, Kennedy sang in a Celtic-themed segment, Lumen, during the competition's interval. And he wrote a song for one of the You're a Star contestants; sadly, it never got an airing at Eurovision. Bet Johnny Logan hadn't done all that by the time he sang What's Another Year? If anything, Kennedy could be considered over-qualified for the job.

Brian Edward Patrick Kennedy was born on October 12th, 1966, and grew up on the Falls Road in Belfast, under the constant scrutiny of British soldiers' gun-sights. In a Hot Press interview with his friend, the novelist Patrick McCabe, Kennedy recalls feeling different from the other boys and "trying to get through the day without some kind of punch in the face or some kind of pain". It was only later that he identified his difference as "a sense of queerness". Music provided a refuge for the sensitive young man; he discovered he had a voice - albeit a high one - and found he could hit the notes with perfect pitch and harmonise effortlessly with the songs he heard on the radio.

At 16, he and his brother Bap formed a band; Bap would go on to front respected Northern Irish rockers Energy Orchard while Brian went to London to pursue a solo career path. His debut album, The Great War of Words, came out in 1990 and featured the haunting, acclaimed single Captured. A Better Man established him as one of Ireland's top live draws, his beatific good looks and sweet voice making him a hit with the ladies. This writer remembers a particularly fevered concert at the Olympia, when a young lady standing next to me remarked, "I can't believe he's gay. Just give me one night with him and I'll cure him of that."

HE'S COLLABORATED WITH other artists, forming Sweetmouth with Fairground Attraction's Mark E Nevin, and has been unafraid to cover other people's songs - he's recorded Ewan MacColl's The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face as a duet with MacColl's son, Calum, and one of his biggest hits was a version of World Party's Put the Message in the Box. And when Van Morrison came a-knocking on his door to ask him to join his Blues and Soul Revue, Kennedy's bags were packed quicker than you could say "Gloria". Kennedy travelled around the world as Van's sidekick, his keening contralto "echoing" Morrison's barking blues voice. Morrison also got Kennedy to sing lead vocals on his classic song, Crazy Love. The Kennedy version ended up on the soundtrack for the Hollywood movie When a Man Loves a Woman.

His friendship with Ronan Keating - then of Boyzone - sparked off rumours that the pair were having an affair. Both men went on The Late Late Show to scotch the rumours, but Kennedy's album, Now That I Know What I Want, was lost amid the prurience and publicity. Following that album's relative failure, Kennedy moved to New York to sing with Riverdance at the Gershwin Theatre on Broadway. He sang for US president Bill Clinton at a fundraising dinner; Clinton joined Kennedy in a rendition of Carrickfergus.

IN RECENT YEARS, Kennedy has turned his talents to writing novels and short stories. His debut novel, The Arrival of Fergal Flynn, is based heavily on his own troubled youth in Belfast. It's the story of a young Belfast boy with a prodigious singing talent, whose unorthodox friendship with a young parish priest leads to his sexual awakening. Kennedy has just published a sequel, Roman Song, which follows the further adventures of Fergal as he escapes Belfast and heads to Rome to be taken under the wing of a top opera star. Kennedy has been coy about his own sexuality, saying he's had relationships with both men and women. "I'm a professional singer, not a professional homo," he told the Sunday Times in 2001. But if the Montrose moguls are hoping to play the gay card to boost Ireland's Eurovision chances,they're on a loser. Kennedy may be gay, but he's not camp; he's more of a metrosexual - soberly dressed in John Rocha, a little effeminate, but unlikely to mince onstage in Athens in a frilly blouse and lycra trousers.

What Brian Kennedy is more likely to do in Athens is blow the crowd away with that beautiful choirboy voice; if he gets a good song to wrap his pipes around, we could be looking at douze points from juries across the continent - who knows, he might even swing the bloc vote. You can be sure there's no shortage of eastern European women who'll be happy to swing along with him.

The Kennedy File

Who is he?

Brian Kennedy, the sweet-voiced bard of Belfast

Why is he in the news?

Brian has been chosen to represent Ireland in next year's Eurovision song contest in Athens, Greece. Composers are invited to submit songs by December 17th, and Ireland's entry will be chosen from a shortlist of four songs

Most appealing characteristic?

His soft, angelic voice, verging on heavenly

Least appealing characteristic?

His unrelenting niceness, verging on Daniel O'Donnell

Most likely to sing

Whatever line Van Morrison has just sung

Least likely to sing

I Wanna be Your Dog by Iggy Pop