Shattered Ego

​Shattered Ego was a garage punk band hailing from Salthill, a suburb of Galway, Ireland, active during the early 1980s. Initially formed under the name “Perverted Youth,” the band later adopted the moniker Shattered Ego. Their music was rooted in punk rock, with influences from rockabilly, ska, and classic garage rock. Despite not being technically polished musicians, they were known for their energetic performances that resonated with local youth. Their debut gig took place in their school’s drama hall, drawing a large crowd and marking a significant moment in their early career

Kevin Duffy, a multi-instrumentalist who later played with bands like The Saw Doctors, was a member of Shattered Ego. He has shared stories about his time with the band, highlighting their role in Galway’s music scene during that era.

Shattered Ego is remembered as part of Galway’s vibrant punk scene in the 1980s, contributing to the local music culture of the time.​

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Shattered Ego (or how I got into this mess part 2)

Posted on December 10, 2012 by kjmduffy

I may have mentioned the very first Rock & Roll band I was ever part of, Shattered Ego, in former blogs. My experiences with this band, the place and time from which we came and the music that formed us may merit further discussion. We were basically a punk band even though we were open to many other kinds of music. Perhaps ‘Garage Band’ is a better description. The band started off rehearsing in a garage, after all. This was before I joined. They were then called ‘Perverted Youth’.

I was recruited after the whole ‘Perverted Youth’ thing. Before I had ever joined the band the name had been changed to ‘Shattered Ego’.

We started doing punk-rock quite a while after punk-rock had ceased to be cool. Though we knew it was a commercially daft idea, we thought that this was the whole point. Punk Is Dead. Long Live Punk.

But about the band…

We were a kind of varied lot, but we agreed with each other musically on many points. We all loved good old Rock & Roll. Mainly the nasty stuff. Punk, Rockabilly, Ska and garage-band stuff. We had an edge. We were not technically ‘good’ musicians, yet I think we had the thing that every band needs. We were able to make our audience go a bit crazy. We were the local band, the band that the teenagers of Salthill, (a suburb of Galway) could relate to. We had songs like ‘Big Boy’, an attempt to relate to other young folk who dealt with bouncers and cops on a daily basis. We had songs that dealt with teenage love and all

the frustration with which such a thing came, ‘Oh, 18’.

When we started the sound equipment consisted of one amplifier which belonged to Fred, one of the guitarists and a founder member. For rehearsal purposes we would all plug in to this. I think it was a 50 watt. It couldn’t really take the punishment of two guitars, a bass and a vocal mic and it struggled to compete with the volume of the drum kit, but we thought we sounded good. We sounded almost like a Rock & Roll band.

Our first gig was in our school’s drama hall. It had a good stage and we had hired amplifiers and a good PA system from one Derek Murray, who was also our sound engineer on the night. We were off to a good start right there. There were good Rock & Roll lights, even a follow-spot manned by the now Artist Of Renown, Dara McGee.

The head priest of our school, in a rare show of generosity wanted no money from us for the gig so long as we only charged £1. The place was thronged. £400 minus equipment costs between 5 teenage lads in 1980 meant quite a lot of money per person.

I was the bass player and backing vocalist. I had two songs on which I had to sing lead vocals. The second was ‘There’s A Riot Going On (Up In Cell-Block #9). I knew I’d be fine with that. The first, however, was that great Motown classic, ‘Money’. I thought I might be ok with that as well, but no, I was very wrong. My voice simply would not do what I wanted it to do. It squeezed and squawked when I thought it should have soared and seduced. I was amazed when after the gig many people praised me on that performance more than the one that I felt I had delivered correctly. In hindsight I can only conclude that people saw my discomfort and interpreted it as true artistic grit. If so, they were wrong. Or perhaps right. Only the audience knows for sure. This I learned on that night. Only the audience knows for sure.

the frustration with which such a thing came, ‘Oh, 18’.

When we started the sound equipment consisted of one amplifier which belonged to Fred, one of the guitarists and a founder member. For rehearsal purposes we would all plug in to this. I think it was a 50 watt. It couldn’t really take the punishment of two guitars, a bass and a vocal mic and it struggled to compete with the volume of the drum kit, but we thought we sounded good. We sounded almost like a Rock & Roll band.

Our first gig was in our school’s drama hall. It had a good stage and we had hired amplifiers and a good PA system from one Derek Murray, who was also our sound engineer on the night. We were off to a good start right there. There were good Rock & Roll lights, even a follow-spot manned by the now Artist Of Renown, Dara McGee.

The head priest of our school, in a rare show of generosity wanted no money from us for the gig so long as we only charged £1. The place was thronged. £400 minus equipment costs between 5 teenage lads in 1980 meant quite a lot of money per person.

I was the bass player and backing vocalist. I had two songs on which I had to sing lead vocals. The second was ‘There’s A Riot Going On (Up In Cell-Block #9). I knew I’d be fine with that. The first, however, was that great Motown classic, ‘Money’. I thought I might be ok with that as well, but no, I was very wrong. My voice simply would not do what I wanted it to do. It squeezed and squawked when I thought it should have soared and seduced. I was amazed when after the gig many people praised me on that performance more than the one that I felt I had delivered correctly. In hindsight I can only conclude that people saw my discomfort and interpreted it as true artistic grit. If so, they were wrong. Or perhaps right. Only the audience knows for sure. This I learned on that night. Only the audience knows for sure.