Michael Moynihan: Good vibes as music store brings back sense of community to Cork

When Crowley’s music shop on MacCurtain Street closed ten years ago the gloom was general around the city. For decades Crowley’s had kitted out Leeside beat combos and solo troubadours alike — all were sure of a welcome there from the late Mick Crowley.

Now his daughter Sheena Crowley has resurrected the family shop her late father set up in the old Badly Made Books premises. She told me it was always part of the plan to reopen Crowley’s, even if a variety of challenges such as covid slowed the process down.

“In August 2020 I set up islandofmusic.ie to promote musicians and instrument makers. That was my way back in. Before that, I was interviewing musicians, repairing instruments, and when the website got up and running I got into it a bit more.

“But if I had my way I wouldn’t do anything online. I understand the convenience of buying things online and so on, but I also believe that there’s a huge percentage of people buying musical instruments online who find, when the instrument arrives, that it might be okay but they’re not that happy with it. They’ve missed out on feeling it in the shop.

You have to do that. When we sell guitars I’ll find one guy will say, ‘that’s lovely’ but his pal may say, ‘nah, that’s not for me’. A musical instrument, it’s really personal for people, and buying it is a personal experience, and the feel is everything.

This was part of what interested me about visiting Crowley’s. The day I landed in three people were playing guitars in one corner — it sounded like bluegrass to this untutored ear — while a couple of teenagers were mulling over the instruments hanging on the wall. Sheena is keen to get people through the doors, obviously, but she pointed out that covid had an impact on that younger demographic when it comes to the music shop experience.

“I love that I’m getting to know the younger people who are now getting into music. They might be standing at the doorway of the shop asking if it’s okay to come in — I always say it is, of course — and when they come in they ask if they can try the instruments, and I tell them to go ahead, that’s what the shop is there for.

“We don’t have any restrictions on what they play, either. One boy who might have been around 14 asked if he could play ‘Stairway To Heaven’ — and I said of course he could.”

This is a more important point than might first appear. Spaces where teens can hang out are few and far between in the city; spaces where teens who share an interest and where they can connect creatively and organically? Even rarer.

“What I hear a lot when there are a few people in the shop is someone saying, ‘God, I haven’t seen you around in ages, we should get together and play some stuff’. So I see those collaborations all the time.

“It’s not all teenagers either. The day you came in, those three people playing — two of them have been living in Spain, and I haven’t seen them in ten years, maybe, and they were regular customers in MacCurtain Street. So I was delighted to see them, obviously.

“Then their pal who lives up the road dropped in to see them, and in a minute they had a jam session going, the three of them playing together.

“Last Saturday a guy and a girl came in and the guy took down a guitar — a minute or two later two more lads came in and said, ‘oh there you are’, so they sat down for half an hour playing, completely impromptu — I filmed it for them so they can use for promotion — but that’ll probably lead to more collaboration, which is great.

“What’s great in Cork is that you see all these musicians moving around, with this band’s bass player also playing in this other band, it’s almost a shared experience. They all help each other and it’s a great community.” That sense of community is palpable in the shop, she adds: 

“My accountant would kill me but the commercial aspect is the least important part of the shop. Obviously, I want to make a living out of it, to hire people who want to work here — but the most important thing is to have a place for people to hang out and to explore ideas, to meet each other.

And I see that in action in the shop all the time. A guy came up from Cúil Aodha a few days ago and spent hours here — chatting to us, to the customers, playing his instrument.

“As it happens a young lad was coming in to buy his first guitar the same day, and the guy from Cúil Aodha was encouraging him, showing him stuff with the guitar.”

Perhaps Crowley’s accountant should reevaluate the value of the shop’s reputation. It’s sourced plenty of stock based on the goodwill built up over decades in its old MacCurtain Street base.

“We’ve had thirty people — more — donate an instrument to the stock of the shop. The fact is that they’re helping to build the place, they’re part of it.

“And I’m not talking about a guitar falling apart in the attic that someone wants to dump to free up space. A guy donated an accordion to us the other day that’s probably worth €700. It’s perfect. He could have sold that online for that much or more but he gave it to us.

“Another chap gave us a custom-built acoustic guitar, a beauty, one of a limited series — I was so taken aback I said I couldn’t take it. Then he told me about some of the things Mick had done for him in his time, and that it was important for him to give me that guitar.

“We have loads of stories like that. When we picked a date to open we put ourselves under pressure, which always happens when people pick a date to open a shop, but an artist from Cobh, John Adams, just came up three or four days in a row to help us prepare the shop for opening.

“He didn’t want any money, he was so excited for us to reopen. What I say to him — and to the others — is that their DNA is in the place.

“I think it’s important to show how good people are. I know you sometimes hear how bad things are — and how bad people can be — but I have to say I meet terrific people every day.”

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