Appropriately enough, it was on a stormy February night that the premiere of a short film about Andrew Weatherall was held in The Sugar Club in Dublin. The Sugar Club in a former life was the Irish Film Theatre and with its red velour, cinema style seating was the perfect venue for the event.
I took the chance of going along, even though the city was being drenched by storm Eunice. I often wonder if the relatively recent phenomenon of naming winter storms serves a purpose beyond making people more anxious than previously about what are a normal seasonal occurrence. That debate is for another time and place, presumably on the wilder fringes of the internet.
The format for the event was one that I was more than familiar with, film followed by a Q+A and then a DJ set, in this instance inspired by the subject matters impressive back catalogue.
The narrative of the film was built around tracing the origin of Weatherall’s motto and what was to become his most famous tattoo. Which on the first anniversary of his untimely death had become a viral sensation in Ireland.
It turned out that many years ago on route to a gig in a remote part of County Cork, the famous DJ and producer had been given a lift by a local fisherman. Seemingly he was a lot keener to discuss the life of a fisherman and yarns from the sea than he was about his own fame and fortune.
The fisherman had mentioned the phrase “Sail We Must, Fail We May” that his father had often used before setting sail.
This tale was told via a mixture of archive footage, interviews with close friends and people who worked with Weatherall over the years plus the, by now, almost mythical Cork fisherman himself.
At the end of the film, I didn’t really feel I knew much more about Weatherall than I did before. The same applied after the Q+A. This isn’t a criticism of either, “He was enigmatic” was the message I got from both.
I came across the man himself a few times in London but was never on more than nodding terms with him. There was nothing pretentious or contrived about him from what I could tell. He seemed genuine and unassuming.
Given his legendary status he could have afforded to be much more like some of the other “Super Star” DJ’s I have met.
His fame went back to Boys Own, Shoom, and the very origins of Acid House in London. His work on Primal Scream’s album Screamadelica rightly brought him world-wide fame.
It is possible that in having to navigate between the hero worship and adulation from his fans on one side and his own unique and uncompromising talent on the other, being an enigma may well have been the best course to take.
From my perspective there was always a tension between Acid House as a spiritual journey rather than just pure hedonism. The latter an escape from an all too miserable and moody late 1980’s reality. I was never convinced it was anything other than hedonism although a lot of my peers where equally convinced that it was a new way of life and thinking.
What is certain is that Acid House made the consumption of recreational drugs a much more mainstream affair.
As I was leaving, I heard someone say in reference to Screamadelica ;
“That album, ruined my life”.
There was no prejudice attached to the comment, it was more a statement of fact. I can’t say it had that effect on me, but I knew exactly what they meant.
Sail We Must is a production by The Tenth Man and is directed by Grizzly and can be viewed here: