Mick Pyro has always been a straight-shooter, fond of the word "bullshit" and even more fond of calling people out on it. And that includes his own work. We're in the corner of a darkened bar in Dublin city centre, and the man born Mick Tierney has plenty to say – particularly about his former band Republic of Loose, who split in 2014 after 13 years together.
“The lyrics, some of them were shit,” he says, shrugging as he tugs absent-mindedly at his beard. “I wish I hadn’t done all the comedy shit as much. When I look back, I was just procrastinating all the time . . . I was just lazy. I wish I’d put more of an effort into some of the work rather than prancing around, acting the b****x.”
The likable, self-deprecating Tierney is here to talk about his forthcoming solo debut album, which will be road-tested at a gig at the Sugar Club. Whatever about his lyrical shortcomings, when they were at their best, Republic of Loose were one of the most exciting, dynamic and original Irish bands of their time, putting their own slick Dublin spin on the R&B, rap, rock and pop music they’d collectively infused since their childhoods. A big part of their appeal was Tierney’s persona as Mick Pyro, the shades-wearing, booze-guzzling, James Brown-aping frontman that was a far cry from the man who’d completed a masters in Renaissance literature.
“People had this idea of me as being arrogant – it must have been something about my body language or something,” he mumbles. “But I had to find a way to get through the f***in’ fear of doing R&B and rap, being from a middle-class family in Terenure. In order to push through it, you almost have to be more arrogant than you actually should have been. We kind of developed this ‘us against them’ persona, which was a lot for our mental health to deal with.”
‘Stressful’
He repeatedly mentions the word “stressful”, although he has no regrets about that period of his career. “I’m glad we made those albums, I’m proud of them and I was glad we were doing something that nobody else was doing. But I don’t think we would have made it anywhere else – and if we had, I probably would have ended up dying [he struggled with alcoholism for several years]. There were so many things I could have done differently; a lot of it was the way we looked – or the way I looked, specifically, with me being the frontman. I could have taken care of myself better. I was a bit dishevelled, a bit disorganised. I could have gone to vocal training, maybe. But at the same time, I don’t really see how anything would have happened differently. It was a weird phenomenon, and I’m glad about the weirdness of it and that it wasn’t generic.”
Tierney's newfound zen about the past is timely, given he is poised to launch himself as a solo artist in 2017. After Republic of Loose split, he spent time tutoring in Dublin music college Bimm and fronting the Dublin Blues Cartel. He says that going back to playing music for the sake of it was "nourishing". When it came to putting his solo debut Bifurhated together, however, he found himself in a bit of a quandary in terms of which direction to take.
“I was doing a lot of writing in different genres: funk, weird rap shit, weird electro shit, country stuff, pop, doo-wop stuff, rock and heavy metal stuff. But I didn’t really have any money to make an album. Eventually I got a lend off the bank and had to make a decision on the fly about what sort of album I wanted to make.
“I sat at the computer and went through all my demos, and I’d written this song recently that was more influenced by rap and stuff I’d been listening to recently – really weird stuff like Young Thug, Ty Dolla Sign, modern R&B. It’s hard having so many ideas and wanting to get everything in there – but the main thing is I’m trying to take more care with the lyrics. Trying to make sure it’s not all just rambling.”
Losing both of his parents in recent years had an impact on the writing. “There were two songs that I wrote with those events in my bloodstream. One of them is not on the album because I just thought it didn’t connect with the other songs. I think the darkness that you feel can manifest itself in different ways. It’s not just sadness, it can make you angry and pissed off at the world, hierarchies and structures and bullshit. There are still lyrics in there that are gonna annoy people. I have a tendency, still, to do that. I don’t know what it is, I just think, ‘this is gonna piss people off’,” he says, chuckling. “But the rest of it is quite serious-minded in a lot of ways.”
Upbeat
The album is set for an April release, but Tierney is adamant the end product will be upbeat. “I just wanted to make a bouncy album that was kind of dancey, that people would be energised by. I’m getting a bit old to be making that kind of album, maybe, but I couldn’t f***ing help it. I’ve had a really horrible two years and I wanted to make something that was celebratory, rather than being dour. I seem to be drawn to fun in music. I suppose it comes from the blues, or it comes from rock ’n’ roll.”
As for his ambitions, at 41, he has no lofty plans for where he might go with Bifurhated. "I know about The Secret and all, you're supposed to project positive thoughts and they'll happen . . . but I can't play that shit, unfortunately. I just don't like being disappointed, so I just tend to do the opposite," he deadpans.
“I suppose it’s just to give myself a springboard back into it. I’d love to do more recording with other artists, or producing, or writing for them. I really enjoy touring; I don’t know how much of that we could do with this album, but I’m up for whatever.
“The thing is, I’d like as many people as possible to hear it, obviously. At the same time, I’m not getting any big pie-in-the-sky notions about being a rock star. It’s just more about making an artefact that I can look back on in five years, and think ‘That was pretty decent’.”
Mick Pyro plays the Sugar Club, Dublin on December 21st. Lead single Very Strange is out on January 27th
