Given that he has been receiving palliative care in his home for several months, it’s no surprise that hearing Christy Dignam talk about his fear of death should be an uncomfortable experience. “Nobody wants to die,” the singer tells Ryan Tubridy, who devotes the entirety of his RTÉ Radio 1 morning programme today to their conversation. What’s more unexpected is that any moments of excruciation come not from Dignam, who is unflinchingly yet wryly honest about his life with cancer, but from his host.
As Tubridy speaks to his guest, best known as the frontman with the Dublin band Aslan, his questions can veer between the harmlessly inane – “Do you feel minded and loved?” – to the gormlessly insensitive, as when he asks what Dignam would do “if something miraculous happened” and he somehow recovered from his terminal illness. The singer, to his credit, good-naturedly responds that he would probably run up the street naked, but it’s such an obvious clanger that even Tubridy acknowledges it’s a cruel question.
Though at times Christy Dignam’s voice sounds palpably weakened by his cancer-related blood condition of amyloidosis, he talks openly about the reality of being on ‘the conveyor belt up to heaven’
That the interview isn’t derailed at points like this is testament to Dignam’s candid and charismatic presence. Though at times his voice sounds palpably weakened by his cancer-related blood condition of amyloidosis, he talks openly about the reality of being on “the conveyor belt up to heaven”. Seeing someone walk by his house sends him into a “spiral”, as he realises he’ll never be able to do such simple things again, much less sing on stage. “It’s like you’re heading into an abyss,” he says.
But such bleak scenarios are leavened by darkly knowing humour. Having said that he isn’t religious – “the logic won’t work for me” – he chuckles at the irony of his praying for 10 more years of life when he initially received his diagnosis. “Who were you praying to?” Tubridy asks, pertinently in this instance. “I don’t know,” comes the reply.
Later, Dignam sounds a fatalistically philosophical note about the brutal perspective that prospect of death has brought: “For years I was running around like a blue-arsed fly wondering what life is all about.”
There are references to the troubled times in his life, most notably his heroin addiction, as he recounts anecdotes from his time in rehab at a monastery in Thailand. But there are lighter memories, too, from being inspired by his father’s love of bel-canto singing to the birth of his daughter, Kiera. Perhaps the most telling admission, however, comes when he talks of seeking people’s approval as a singer because of his vulnerability when he was younger: “I grew up very insecure about myself.”
That Dignam freely shares such thoughts on the radio suggests he feels at ease with Tubridy, for all the occasionally ill-judged queries. Though the singer has given other memorable interviews in the past – a decade ago, in April 2013, he spoke frankly about his cancer diagnosis with John Murray, the previous incumbent of the 9am slot on Radio 1 – Dignam clearly has built up a rapport over the course of his TV and radio encounters with Tubridy, who even jokes about it: “I think you were on The Late Late Show for the last time six times.”
While the host sometimes puts his foot in it – possibly because he himself is nervous about the encounter – his ingenuous on-air manner clearly helps provide a safe space for Dignam to open up, whether about his health, his family or, notably, his erstwhile bandmates in Aslan. “We were turning into a band I didn’t want to be in,” Dignam says. “I think some of the lads would be happy plodding along.”
Christy Dignam’s candour unsurprisingly strikes a chord with listeners. ‘The response by text is phenomenal,’ Ryan Tubridy says. ‘There’s so much love for Christy.’ No wonder
There are times when it appears to become too much for Dignam, however. He speaks about the difficult emotions he felt after flatlining in hospital, particularly his fear of never seeing his grandchildren again. “Where does that bring you to?” Tubridy asks. “That brings you to hell,” the singer replies, “It’s hard to explain…” As his voice trails off, the silence is broken by a recording of Dignam singing the ballad The Green Fields of France with Finbar Furey, an intervention that walks a fine line between poignancy and sentimentality.
Overall, it’s an undeniably compelling programme, though it sometimes drifts into uneasily morbid territory, not least in the hype that precedes it: when was the last time that Morning Ireland flagged an interview on Tubridy’s show? But Dignam’s candour unsurprisingly also strikes a chord with listeners. “The response by text is phenomenal,” Tubridy says. “There’s so much love for Christy.” No wonder. One may have misgivings about hearing an audibly ill man talk about death, and cringe at some of the questions, but one is struck by Dignam’s raw yet droll honesty. “Have you thought about your funeral?” Tubridy asks. Dignam replies that he wants to be cremated, like David Bowie: “Just like a puff of smoke – that’s how I’d like it.”
