Christy or ‘Disser‘ as he was known to his friends was exactly as you would expect. Funny, smart, passionate and unapologetically honest.
He had no filter and for me that’s what made him stand out from the rest. He never shied away from speaking his mind and always had his own views to share on a topic, whether it be music, religion or politics.
I was fortunate enough to get to know him in a professional capacity, as a journalist, and also personally through friends, over the years.
When I first met him in person, what I noticed instantly was how for a man who was relatively small in stature, he was able to capture the attention of a packed room merely by his presence.
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Christy was a man who was open about his flaws and personal struggles which I think made people relate to him even more.
Despite being the frontman of one of the country’s most iconic bands he showed he was also human and in his own words “f**ked up at times”.
As I was a crime journalist for many years, Christy used to love quizzing me on the latest gangland news, wanting to know what certain characters from out his neck of the woods were up to (many he said he knew while growing up in Finglas).
I also remember laughing out loud when he told me that he was on Twitter (he hated social media), under a pseudonym, but only followed two people, both of which he said dished the dirt on criminals living in the city.
Christy often spoke to me about his love for animals and in particular his pigeons and his beloved dog Jack. On a number of occasions I met him while carrying his “wingman” Jack, a tiny Yorkshire Terrier who he brought everywhere with him.
He was devastated when he died a few years ago. He said for him it was worse than a person passing away as Jack gave him unconditional love and was with him through thick and thin.
But perhaps Christy’s biggest love of all was performing on stage with the rest of the lads from Aslan who he described to me as being like his family.
Only last September, after spending time in Beaumont hospital for treatment, I spoke to him on the phone about what the future held for him in terms of singing live again.
For Christy, getting up and performing on stage was therapy, a way of fighting his demons he said.
He told me how he would never stop singing and that “only God will retire me”. Unfortunately, less than three months after our chat that’s exactly what happened, Christy went into palliative care.
I had hoped to see him perform alongside the rest of Aslan at the 3Arena in Dublin in January, a gig he was really looking forward to.
Sadly he never got to play what would have been a celebration of 40 years with the band. Christy wasn’t just a working class hero, he was an Irish hero, whose soul baring songs and no filter stories spoke to all who heard them and whose legacy will live on for many years to come.
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