RIP Pogues Singer Shane MacGowan. His body finally gave out.

Years ago, I drew the assignment of introducing The Pogues from the stage at the old Concert Hall in Toronto. The band was late coming on because no one could locate singer Shane MacGowan. When he was finally found, he was rushed past me to the stage and up to the mic before I had a chance to make my introduction. It seemed that his handlers wanted to get him into position before he passed out.

Even though I was never less than ten feet from the man, I could smell the alcohol coming off him. And let me tell you, it was like being in a vat of very cheap hooch. I had a similar encounter with Shane later before a Pogues gig at the Kingswood Music Theatre at Canada’s Wonderland.

Although he had a brilliant intellect and the soul of a poet, Shane was not kind to his body. He always drank to excess. He had famously bad teeth (what teeth he had). Nutrition and hygiene never seemed to be a priority. He collapsed with a case of hepatitis in 1988. And you can only live this way for so long.

Still, Shane lived longer than most people expected. His devoted wife, Irish journalist Victoria Clarke, saw to that. But over the last few years, he’d become very ill and had been mostly confined to a wheelchair since 2015 after suffering a fall in which he fractured his pelvis. That wasn’t his first fall, either. His knees took a terrible battering, too.

The last 12 months saw him in and out of the hospital suffering from a variety of maladies, most notably viral encephalitis which set in last December. Much of 2023 was spent in intensive care.

When he was sent home earlier this month, it was hoped that he’d recovered sufficiently. Turns out that he was sent home to die. A few days after his wedding anniversary. Shane passed away today (November 30) at 3:30 am local time with Victoria and his sister at his bedside. He received prayers and last rites from a priest. He was 65.

To say that Shane lived a life of excess is an understatement. His first bit of notoriety came as the result of an incident at a Clash show in 1976 when he had a chunk of his ear bitten off.

Although born in Kent, England, he was raised in Ireland from the time he was six. Shane’s father was a writer. His mother was a prize-winning singer of traditional Irish songs. As a kid, his parents would put him up on a kitchen table and have him belt out songs. No wonder Shane became an Irish poet laureate.

After showing early promise as a student–he won a scholarship to a prestigious school when he was 12 and actually considered going into the priesthood–he’d dropped out by 16 to work in record stores, go to gigs, and drink. His parents helped that along, giving him a Guinness as a child to help him sleep. For a time, he edited a punk fanzine.

He eventually got into his own band, The Nipple Erectors, in 1977, using the name Shane O’Hooligan. The band–later known as The Nips–released four singles, none of which did much.

When The Nips split, he helped form a band called Pogue Mahone (translated as “Kiss My Arse” in Gaelic) who mixed punk rock sensibilities with traditional Irish music and poetry. Between 1984 and 1990, the band releasd five albums featuring songs like this.

The Pogues most famous song became a one-time throwaway entitled “Fairytale of New York,” a duet with the late Kirsty Maccoll that has become an unlikely Christmas classic for years. (Fittingly, Shane’s birthday was December 25, 1957.)

Shane went solo in 1991–okay, he was fired for failing to show up for a tour of Japan–and was replaced for a time in The Pogues by Joe Strummer. His band, The Popes, released material of their own. When his friend Sinead O’Connor reported him to police for using heroin, he seemed have straightened up a bit. He returned to The Pogues in 2001, a reunion which stuck until 2014.

Here’s a shot of him with Strummer.

Despite being in ill health and in a wheelchair, Shane started working on new music in 2015 with a band called Cronin. It’s unclear if that music will ever be released. We do have this record of his last-ever live performance.

Here’s my favourite Shane quote: “I haven’t joined a band to drink milk.” He did not.

When we were in Dublin a few years ago, my wife found this portrait of Shane in a local gallery. It’s hanging in my office.