On the Edge of Your Memories
In the north Dublin suburb of Artane on St Valentine's night 1981, forty-eight teenagers died in a fire at the Stardust Disco. There were allegations that many of the emergency fire exits had been chained shut and that there were iron bar grilles on the windows. The victims were mostly teenagers, 'New Romantics' charging headlong into the rest of their lives as they set out that night, unknowingly, for something quite different. I knew the Stardust. Although I had never been in it, I used to pass it on my way to school football. It was about a mile away from where I lived, in Coolock. The Stardust was the worst possible tragedy, which traumatised north Dublin and shocked the entire country. Most of the victims were local, from the Coolock, Bonnybrook, Artane, Kilmore and Donnycarney areas of north Dublin, and more tragically, some victims were from the same family. The morning after the tragedy I awoke to a rumpus downstairs. A girlfriend of my sister had been at the disco; suffering from smoke inhalation and at the point of collapse, she barely managed to crawl out of the inferno on her hands and knees. The Stardust Memorial Park is in Coolock, North Dublin.

I struggled for a long time to express what I felt about this tragedy, and only began to see a way when I read a poem by Dermot Bolger about the same subject, in his collection, 'No Waiting America', (Raven Arts Press, 1982). The poem starts: 'On the edge of peoples' memories...'

Those who died were not the only victims. They left behind grieving families and friends. And then there were the families and friends of those who survived, some injured, some not, but all damaged by the experience, and all of whom had the daunting challenge of trying to rebuild their own lives. The idea driving the song is a question: If those New Romantics could speak, now, what would they say?

The electric lead guitar is introduced at "release your anger", where Tim and I worked to get as close as possible to expressing that emotion with six guitar strings and a Marshall amp. As the song progressed, I worked with Simon to build the strings to a place where celebration and sorrow flow into each other. I say 'celebration' because the song is also a celebration of the lives that had been lived, an expression of gratitude and joy that they had been among us, if only for a short time. The last flurry of keys, set against a shortened riff, represents the untimely passing of those unforgotten Valentines, who will always be with us.

Written by Con Meehan
© 2003 Lightning Bird Records Ltd.
℗ 2003 Lightning Bird Records Ltd.
All rights reserved.