"It IS the end," says Tom Dunne, mournfully gazing at the copy of his band's newest release, a 'best of' compilation wittily entitled "The Beatings Will Continue Until Morale Improves." I've just nervously placed the artefact in the centre of the table of this Donnybrook drinking establishment and asked the ever so tactful question, 'Does it represent a tombstone for Something Happens?'

"Yeah, it's dead, dead in the water," agrees drummer Eamonn Ryan, wearily nodding his head with a resigned, faraway look in his eyes. "The band is finished."

Eh?!?

My heart skips a beat (damn those amphetamines!) and in the far corner of the room a pin drops with an almighty clatter. For what seems like an eternity nobody says a word. And then, sad fucks that we are, we all burst out laughing. Something Happens -- Ireland's top rock combo, and second most famous Fab Four -- to split up and call it a day? Not a chance mate! When life hands these guys a lemon, they make lemonade. Or something like that.

Of course, I could be forgiven for asking the question, since journalists have been asking it of them for what seems like most of their career. I was, after all, only thinking the thinkable and expecting the worst (as is expected of me). Though the band have been busy of late supporting rocker Warren Zevon on a tour of the United States, hit singles have been a bit thin on the ground for them since they lost their Virgin-ity and reverted back to their current independent-but-proud status. Finding yourself sans recording contract after ten years' hard graft would demoralise any band. And when you start releasing retrospective compilation albums with ironically masochistic titles ... well, what's an overworked and underpaid music journalist like myself supposed to think? Eh?

"I always felt that Something Happens, the band, could break up at any moment and I feel every good band should have that capacity, you know," Tom reflects. "We were trying to break up after the 'Burn Clear' single, that's why we called the E.P. "Two Chances." We reckoned we had two chances of doing anything. It's kind of a good way to live. So we don't have any immediate plans to break up. We have loads of immediate plans to do other things like make another album and try to get some more work going in America."

"We've only ever done it album by album anyway," says Eamonn. "If you went back over the history of the band, you'll find that after every record the press speculation was 'Something Happens to be dropped' or 'Something Happens to split up.' So you learn to live with that. I mean they're seeing it in the long term. We just see it record by record. But we do want to make a new album. That's important to us."

"And the other side of that coin," continues Tom, "is that the other headlines we'd get would be 'Something Happens to be the next U2,' 'Something Happens to break big,' 'Something Happens to make it,' you know."


To date, Something Happens still haven't made it big, at least not as big as their obvious potential would suggest they could (and should). They've been on the verge once or twice, metaphorically picking five of the winning Lotto numbers and losing out on the sixth at the last moment. They've neared the top of the corporate rock ladder only to suddenly find themselves riding that cruel snake back down to square one again. They've been fucked by fate and overdosed on irony. Examples? Well, they lost their contract with Virgin the same week that 'Daisyhead" won the coveted Single of the Week award in the New Musical Express. So, if Virgin were to realise their epic blunder and offer them another deal, would the band ...?

"We probably would," laughs Tom.

"We definitely would," laughs Eamonn.

Of course they would! After all, you can only be fucked by the same Virgin once. "There's no hard feelings where money's concerned," Tom explains. "To this day we still get on very well with the Irish end of it. And, I mean, both sides have been very helpful because a lot of the tracks on "The Beatings..." were licensed through Virgin so we had to do it through them to put it out on BMG. So they've been fine, you know.

"The English end of the company had changed completely when we were dropped. When we were signed, we knew the heads of all the departments and the people we worked with. In the weeks and months coming up to us being dropped, most of the people we worked with had been fired. At one point it seemed like the band were the only part of the company that was still there. And the writing was absolutely on the wall. It was just a matter of time."

Of course, Something Happens weren't the only Irish band to get dropped by a major label at the time (though they're one of the few not to have broken when they hit the ground). There had been a golden age when bands from the Emerald Isle were a must-have for any respectable major record company with Midas corporate dreams of discovering the next U2. Inevitably, however, the Celtic rock market became saturated, and soon after, the great purge came and P45s started flying as the companies discarded the bands the way ravers discard Es during Drug Squad raids. Are they bitter now about getting caught up in what was essentially a fashion thing?

"Well, I don't really think that was so much the case with us," says Eamonn. "You know, we'd a very good relationship with Ronnie Gurr -- the guy who signed us -- and the whole thing with us came outside of any scene that was going on in Ireland at the time. It might not have appeared that way from the outside but that was the case. I think record companies in general did get cold feet and run -- probably rightly so -- from the amount of Irish bands that they'd signed. But that was more just the timing than anything else."

"Yeah," Tom agrees, "I think we were always seen as a stand-alone type of product, you know. They liked our songs and they liked our gigs and they thought we had a capacity to develop. In fact, right up to its dying day, I can remember talking to the head of Virgin A&R; and he was very embittered by what was going on within the record company and he was saying, 'well, I don't really give a shit. I think I signed two of the best bands in the world.' And he was talking about ourselves and That Petrol Emotion. He just reckoned that we were two superb bands. That was no business thing, it was nothing to do with the fact that we were Irish or any of that crap. He just thought that the Petrols and ourselves were two great bands."


Something Happens have recently returned from a two-month tour of America where, on an almost nightly basis, they had the dual role of playing both as Something Happens AND Warren Zevon's backing band. "It was brilliant over there, really easy," Tom enthuses. "It was a very comfortable bus, nice hotels, nice gigs, and quite a strange situation, really, in that we were going on doing a Something Happens gig -- which occasionally was quite difficult -- and then going on and playing with Warren Zevon to rapturous applause from the same crowd. It was weird, but it was also a bit of a safety net in that no matter how difficult your own gig was, you'd still get on really well with the crowd and be liked by them or whatever. Kinda like (adopts loud American drawl) 'Hey, it's those fuckin' assholes! They're comin' back on. They're gonna do more!' I heard that sort of remark more than once."

But how did they manage to swing the Zevon support slot?

"We have the same tour agent," Tom explains. "When he finished his last album he decided he wanted to go out with an electric band because he nearly always tours acoutically. So he went to see the tour agent who played him a few of our records and that was it really. We got the gig."

And what was he like to work with?

"He's a very complex group of guys," laughs Tom. "Nah, basically he's a very nice guy. He's very entertaining to be around. Very mood driven. I grew to like him an awful lot over the two months. He's a real old school rock star. And very temperamental -- especially with the backstage catering. He used to have a constant supply of Diet Coke and he'd sometimes reject an entire crate on one sip from one can!"

Ah, the mindless decadence of rock 'n' roll. Aside from the huge quantities of (diet) coke being consumed, the tour had its occasional Spinal Tap moments as well.

"Yeah, our bus went on fire," Tom laughs. "That actually was quite touch and go for a moment. Comic as well, though. It happened in the middle of the day. Strange to say, there were people asleep at the time! If it had happened at night, when you'd had maybe a few drinks, people wouldn't have woken up as quickly and the thing was that the smoke was actually being pumped into your bunk. So I can't imagine a more dangerous thing than to be unconscious from drink in your bunk with smoke being pumped into it. Then the comic elements came when Warren was sending various members of the band back onto the bus to get his belongings. Kind of 'Hey Ray, get my bag would ya.'"

For Eamonn, though, the fire represented a missed opportunity.

"It's a shame one of us couldn't have died because our record sales would definitely have improved," he observes. "You know, just a non-essential member."

"I had to wake Pat Fitzpatrick (sometime Happens' keyboardist) up," remembers Tom. "I pulled across the curtain to his bunk and I couldn't see him because there was all this white smoke. So I shook him and he woke up and I didn't want to frighten him by saying the bus was on fire, so I said -- and he'll always remember this -- 'Pat, there's something not quite right here. You should get up.'"

Did you lose any equipment?

"No, just the bus itself. The fire was contained in the air conditioning unit underneath the bus and it didn't really break out of there. But there was a lot of smoke damage, and there was some damage to the engine as well."

Despite the much-needed exposure that the Zevon tour provided, Tom is aware that a lot more effort is going to be required before Something Happens can even begin to have any real impact in America.

"I still wouldn't say that we're that close to breaking it yet," he muses. "At the same time, I'd say there's definitely an underground of support for us everywhere we go. I mean, we went down very well in most places. But I can see what we have to do to break America. I can really see it very clearly. I've no doubt at all that the band -- with the right tour and the right album -- would do enormously well over there. Right now, we have half of a new album written and the "Planet Fabulous" album is coming out there after Christmas, so we're hoping that it'll do a bit of work for us while we're working on the next one. Ideally if we can get the next one ready for release by April or May, then we could possibly tour it over there for the summer."

Would they regard Ireland as bit of a no-go zone at this point in their career?

"I wouldn't say it's a no-go zone," remarks Eamonn, "but I think that until we make significant headway elsewhere we're not gonna do big business in Ireland again, you know what I mean? The circuit that used to exist in Ireland doesn't really exist so much anymore -- the live circuit that is -- and going playing gigs down the country doesn't happen so much anymore. Some of them are fine but there's very few venues left. I mean, we've put together something of a tour for this 'best of' record between now and Christmas but there are actually very few of the old venues we used to play that still exist. Most of them are now discos or raves or they've changed in some way. I'd say it's much harder for new bands to get started over here these days. When we began there was huge circuit. You could play all over the country."


Band manager Conor O'Mahony arrives in to briefly discuss some business with Eamonn, and I use the opportunity to ask Tom about his burgeoning new career as a part-time radio DJ as the "Totally Irish" he's been presenting on 98FM over the past couple of weeks. He's adamant that it's not a move away from the band.

"I'm kind of taking it on a look-see basis," he says. "It's good fun and I really enjoy doing it. I love getting to hear that much music and getting to play that much music. I think it's good that someone like me gets to do it because I do know that I'm doing it very well. I've an awful lot of experience with bands and with what's going on. So I get a chance to draw a bit of attention to a few bands that deserve it, you know, and maybe introduce them to a broader audience in a way that's not gonna make people turn off their radios or dismiss it as a specialist show."

Listening to the show one night (as part of my exhaustive preparations for this interview, of course), I noticed that he was playing Morrissey. Which is all well and good but hardly "Totally Irish" now, is it?

"Yeah, Morrissey is Irish," Tom insists. "All the parents of The Smiths were Irish. So my argument here is that if it was a football team they'd be putting on the green shirt. So I'm trying to introduce one artist a week who has an Irish connection. I brought in Elvis Costello, very dubiously I have to admit, because his real name, Declan McManus, sounds Irish and his wife has an Irish name. And he owns property here. But the first band I did was Oasis."

What do you think of the Britpop bands, incidentally?

"I think they're bloody great. For the first time in about ten years you can actually name four English bands off the top of your head that are just really, really good."

Eamonn rejoins the conversation in time to reveal that he's a huge Pulp fan.

"I find them very reassuring," he laughs, "because it took them so long to get anywhere. They're my heroes now. Them and Soul Asylum. Bands than can have brilliant hit singles after twelve years, they're the ones I like."

Speaking of brilliant hit singles, were you chuffed when "Parachute" was voted the Best Irish Single Of All Time recently?

"It was really lovely," smiles Tom. "And I'm really glad that it was a genuine poll. When I heard that we'd won, I was delighted, but then I thought it might just have been five calls to the station or something. But I actually spoke to the radio station and it was really around 700 calls. So I was delighted."

Talk turns to the subject of the recent MTV Europe Video Awards and Bono's controversial statement about the French nuclear tests (and the masturbatory inclinations of that senile bootboy, President Chirac). How do Something Happens feel about bands using their fame and status to highlight various issues?

"I'm not really sure," says Tom. "In U2's case, I think they can be very simplistic in what they say and a lot of the time it seems to be more to do with record sales and publicity than any genuine feeling on the subject."

Eamonn is a little more forgiving.

"I don't really think that there's a general answer to that. I think every band is different. I mean U2 have been bombastic from time to time. But then, against that, there are other things they do, like their involvement with Amnesty International and so on. They sell millions of records and Amnesty's address is on every sleeve and that can only be a good thing. But every band is different. I mean, Costello has done some brilliant political commentary and it's much more subtle."

As it turns out, Something Happens have been indulging in a spot of political commentary of their own of late, having recently written a song called "Hello Divorce, Goodbye Daddy."

"Well, we're really just poking a little fun," Tom laughingly admits. "You know, being tongue-in-cheek by taking the phrase that the anti-divorce campaign used. But with a chorus of 'Send that woman to Hell/Get her out of my house," I couldn't really say that we're being all that serious."

As with most 'best of' albums, the history of Something Happens is more or less written in the grooves of "The Beatings Will Continue Until Morale Improves." So, seeing as they insist that it's not a tombstone, are they, in any sense, closing a particular chapter of the band's life with this album?

"Probably," says Tom. "It sounds like an awful cliche, though, doesn't it? But I do feel a kind of 'where to next?' thing regarding musical direction. I can kinda see now that the first album was just us getting to know how to write songs, the second album we were getting quite good at writing songs, the third was a bit of a kneejerk reaction against the record company and the way things were going. And then the fourth was really re-affirming that we were very complete songwriters. And now it's just a case of where to take it."

Looking back on the past ten years, is there anything you'd like to change about the history of Something Happens?

"I'd be taller if I could do it all again," ventures Tom, smiling.

Eamonn gets realistic: "Ah, you could spend forever mulling over things you should've done and things you shouldn't. And there's lots of things you see in hindsight, but hindsight's like 20/20 vision. You'd drive yourself crazy."

Well, as people then? Have the band matured much over the past ten years? Like, are you better behaved when you go on tour these days?

"Well, we're just learning to become a difficult teenage band," laughs Eamonn. "But we should start settling down around our 20th anniversary."

"Touring on the road is a very strange experience," says Tom, with a faraway look in his eyes. "You're so far from home and it's just so strange to meet people in that crazy environment of drink and, erm, other things (smirks). It's a trip, you know. And the trick is to find some kind of level ground while you're out there and not wind up in an asylum or something. And also not to go the other way and become really puritanical."

"We've always had loads of fun touring," says Eamonn. "And I think the fact that we all basically get on with each other helps enormously. You know, we like to watch (laughs). Particularly when you're stuck on a tourbus for long periods of time. Like, it's one thing going down and doing a one night show in Ennis or somewhere. But that's not touring. If you're doing two or three months across America you've really got to get a daily routine going. But it's nothing like a normal routine where you get up in the morning and eat breakfast, you know. But if you can get into that you'll have a great time."

Tom: "Usually when you go on tour you start off trying to control yourselves. Two weeks in you're thinking so far, so good. But suddenly you reach a point where you can't really remember starting the tour and you've no conception of when it's going to end. That's when all the rules go out the window and you start drinking beer at 9 a.m. And you're thinking, 'Well why shouldn't I be drinking at nine in the morning? All I'm doing today is driving for 22 hours.'

"But to answer your question, I think we are a little better behaved these days. Before, I think we always had a bit of a schoolboyish attitude to it all. You know, we couldn't believe people were actually flying us to these places to play our music. I think we had a sense of kinda, drink as much as you can now because they'll want it all back tomorrow (laughs). And as regards anything else, I don't think anybody would do anything at this stage that might jeopardize their marriage or relationship. I think everyone is more mature, and aware that their personal relationships are worth more than any short relationship they might have with somebody they'd meet on the road."


When I put it to them that Something Happens have always had something of a reputation as the nice guys of Irish rock, they're quick to refute it. "It's just a vile industry rumor," snorts Tom.

They do, however, feel that certain sections of the media have taken advantage of their easygoing nature over the years. And now they've decided to bite back.

"I'd say that for a long time we've been perceived as being very ... nice," Eamonn mutters, "but I think we'd be less forgiving now of certain people that, erm ... I'm going short of naming names here but ... oh quick, say something Tom!"

"Will I have a go at Kevin Courtney?" (Irish Times journalist).

"Eh, no, no. Maybe you shouldn't," says Eamonn. And then, realizing that there's really nothing to lose: "Ah, fuck it, go on, yeah."

"I find the inconsistencies in his opinions just absolutely amazing," says Tom. "Like, when we were selling out three nights in the SFX, which I felt were three average nights by Something Happens' standards, he was writing about them. And he portrayed us as the band that can't fail, you know. A band with so many aces that it just couldn't possibly fail. And then when the perception changed, he reviewed us again at a show in the Tivoli. And it was a really great show, one of our best. And yet it was reviewed as a show by a band who obviously can't make it. A band with so many drawbacks that there's no way we could ever make it. And then when he came to reviewing "The Beatings Will Continue Until Morale Improves," he described the songs as ranging from bland to derivative. And these are songs that he himself played on Grafton Street when he busked. And that, to me, just completely sucks."

Eamonn is a little taken aback by Tom's vitriol, but not really surprised: "I would say that's probably the first time in an interview that I've heard anybody actually pick a name," he says. "I don't think we've ever really done that before. And some of that, I think, is born of frustration over the years where there have been certain gigs and certain reviews and certain people, and I guess you never really feel free to have a go back. It's not something that's really open to a band without it sounding like sour grapes or like you can't take a punch on the chin or whatever. These days though, we're more inclined to just say 'fuck it.'

"I'd a massive row with somebody very big in Irish radio a couple of months ago, who was drunkenly trying to get me to be thankful for our one play a week or whatever it is. And my angle was obviously slagging the conservative approach of most Irish radio. But without getting into the nitty-gritty, it's just that a year or so ago, I wouldn't have had a go because I'd be thinking 'oh we need this guy, he's important to us,' or whatever. These days it's just like 'ah, fuck off!'"

"Basically, we've always been very polite to people," says Tom. "And I've found over the years that some people take advantage of that and say one thing to your face and something different when your back is turned. Now that I've realised who these people are, I'm just not going to bother being polite to them."

Ah, but look, 'tis the season to be jolly -- so let's not end this otherwise delightful conversation on a sour note. Let's, instead, be blindingly original and ask Tom about his future plans.

"Just with everything that's happened over the last few years I now find myself thinking in increasingly short terms," he says. "You know, if I can make certain things work in the coming weeks, I'm really happy with that. And if I can enjoy it, I'm even happier. At the moment, my whole world goes from now until the 1st of January, at which point we'll probably have done twelve Irish shows which I'm obviously hoping will go well, we'll have done the Tivoli show which I'm really looking forward to. I'll also have done another few weeks of this radio thing which I'm hoping to just get through.

"And then the situation around us will have changed. The album will be coming out in America and certain things will be happening around that. I'll have to put my head down to write new songs. And I really just want to enjoy all that. But for the moment, January 1st is as far as my whole world goes."

Here's hoping that the beatings will have ceased by then.