Behind the neck-high skull tattoos and pop-star swagger, a hint of cheeky Dublin youth still flickers in Shane Lynch’s eyes. 

Speaking in London ahead of the Sky documentary which tells the story of one of the world’s most famous boybands, Shane is stark in his reading of his former manager Louis Walsh and the death of his bandmate, Stephen Gately.

He says the damning stories leaked to the tabloids, the public insults and the fiery fallouts were merely examples of Louis fighting for publicity at any cost.

‘Louis is an uneasy character, he always has been,’ says Shane candidly. 

‘He’s socially awkward but his one-liners are what save him. They’re what gave him his career. He said some stuff about all of us in the past that we weren’t happy with but it’s just him. You can’t get annoyed with him.’

Speaking in the documentary, Louis says of Boyzone that ‘as they got bigger, so did their egos’ but Shane writes this off as drama for the fans.

‘He would say something like that on camera and then you’d go speak to him, to his face, and he’d say, ‘you know I don’t mean it lads, I’m just getting the front page!’ That’s what he was fantastic at.

Behind the neck-high skull tattoos and pop-star swagger, a hint of cheeky Dublin youth still flickers in Shane Lynch’s eyes

Speaking in London ahead of the Sky documentary which tells the story of one of the world’s most famous boybands, Shane is stark in his reading of his former manager Louis Walsh

‘I love the man. I love Louis Walsh. I’d love to sit down and have a beer with him at any point in life because everything’s cool.’

But the most glaring feud was between Louis and Boyzone’s Ronan Keating, who famously fired the music manager in 2003 after breaking with the band and embarking on a solo career.

‘He was harder with Ro and had a different kind of relationship with him,’ says Shane. ‘Business-wise, they fell out more.’

The five boys themselves formed тιԍнт, intense bonds over their years of working together. 

Also in the group were Keith Duffy, Mikey Graham and Stephen Gately, who died in 2009 due to heart complications, aged only 33. 

The band, who had got back together two years earlier, spent the night before Stephen’s funeral sleeping in the church next to his coffin to ease his fear of being alone and in the cold.

When asked if he still speaks with or prays for Stephen, Shane says plainly: ‘No. Steo’s ᴅᴇᴀᴅ.’

He says the damning stories leaked to the tabloids, the public insults and the fiery fallouts were merely examples of Louis fighting for publicity at any cost

Boyzone – Ronan Keating, Mickey Graham, Stephen Gately, Shane Lynch, Keith Duffy together in 1994 

Conscious of the bluntness of his statement, he’s quick to clarify: ‘I don’t mean that in any sense other than, you have your tarot card readers and your spiritual channellers but no, that’s all demonic. The ᴅᴇᴀᴅ is the ᴅᴇᴀᴅ. They’re either with Christ or with the devil. End of.’

Shane’s sense of religion is strong, and he attributes his discovery of faith to the ‘demonic’ pull of the music industry and the anger he felt in his youth.

‘I was a very angry, violent guy and life had to change,’ he says. ‘I couldn’t fulfil all the emptiness with all the partying and all the cars and the multi-million dollar houses. I wasn’t satisfied.

‘A friend of mine was a Christian and he spoke the Bible to me. What I couldn’t find from the world, I got from the Bible.

‘It gave me enrichment, enlightenment, contentment. It gave me everything that I was lacking.’

Shane says that demonic energy and satanic rituals feature heavily in pop music today, polluting our minds.

‘The industry is a very demonic place. I went through it in the late 1990s into the 2000s. I had a broken crucifix over my heart. I was so anti-Bible and anti-God and I loved the mysterious side of that world — the dark side of that world. I danced with the devil a lot and that’s why I know God is real, because I used to hang out with the other guy. Now I hang out with Jesus.’

Boyzone sold more than 25 million records worldwide. From the early 1990s into the 2000s, the pressure was immense. At one point they had no more than three weeks’ break in six years.

During the documentary, Mikey tells the story of his depression while in the band. Struggling silently, he felt obliged to remain so to provide for his daughter.

‘I wasn’t aware of the other boys’ struggles,’ says Shane. There’s a tone of regret in his voice. ‘We were only trying to survive ourselves. I had nothing left for me, let alone the guy sat next to me.

‘Mikey Graham just made the documentary for me. I think his honesty and his bravery and his participation were essential. I think he’s incredible.

‘I’ve learned so much listening to what the others were going through. Just as I told my story, they also told theirs. It was amazing to hear their truth. I didn’t know that. I’m actually super grateful.’

Although Mikey declined to join the rest of the band for a reconciliatory pint after filming for the documentary concluded, he and Shane have since been in touch.

‘I just left him a little message saying, ‘Bro, I think you did an incredible job’. I was communicating the encouragement that I got from watching him.

‘We’ve been to-ing and fro-ing with each other, although I haven’t actually physically seen him. You choose your friends for a reason because you have certain things in common. 

‘We were boys who were put together. It wasn’t our choice. I think Mikey and I had different mindsets. We’re not natural friends but, as a compadre, I’m glad I checked in on him.’

Shane tells the band’s journey as a story of ‘survival’. Hailing from a working-class family in northeast Dublin, the transition from struggling student to international superstar was stark.

‘I was kicked out of school pretty young,’ he recalls. ‘I’m dyslexic and dyspraxic and all sorts of ‘ics’. I learn by doing. I’ve never read a book in my life — I can’t.

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‘On airplanes, it’s the most stupid thing but I’m looking at the people around me going, wow, they can read. I know that’s crazy. It’s the most simple thing and I’m in awe of them.’

Having built up years of boyband confidence, Shane is nonetheless friendly and personable, willing to laugh at himself.

‘My method for hiding in the school system was very simple — it was cheating and being a sportsman. I won every gold medal for every sport possible and that’s how I got through it.’

A sports enthusiast and a car mechanic by trade, Shane describes music as something that doesn’t come naturally to him, acknowledging that he was likely selected for Boyzone because of his image.

‘Louis Walsh has a great phrase: ‘If they gel well, they sell well.’ He put us together visually. What he saw, he thought would work. And he wasn’t wrong.

‘I like music,’ says Shane. Then, second-guessing himself, ‘Kinda.’

‘Realistically, music is not my gig, it’s just something I fell into, something I learned. Most singer-songwriters are in their bedroom all the time, singing the songs, hitting the drums, playing the guitar. The first time I ever picked up a microphone was when I was in Boyzone.’

As well as providing an insight into the experiences of his fellow band members, Shane says the documentary dredged up forgotten memories of his hectic rock’n’roll lifestyle.

‘There was so much stuff I had forgotten, so, so much stuff,’ he says. ‘It was so fast-paced. It was the MTV awards, then the front cover of a magazine, then selling a million records. It was madness really, the whole industry.’

Speaking in the documentary, Louis says of Boyzone that ‘as they got bigger, so did their egos’ but Shane writes this off as drama for the fans

Shane says he has no regrets, although he is surprised at some of his own behaviour, now long forgotten. Aged only 17 at Boyzone’s inception, the singer spent much of his late teens and early 20s drinking, partying and getting into fights.

‘I was reflecting with our manager recently, Mark Plunkett. He was telling me a story. He goes, ‘Shane, do you remember when you wouldn’t sleep in a bed unless it was that high off the floor?’ I’m like — are you serious?

‘Apparently, I had to have all my H๏τel bedrooms changed and have a particular sized bed. I don’t remember that. That’s the truth, I don’t remember that. I wouldn’t sleep in a bed unless it was exactly this much off the floor. Crazy stuff.’

But the excitement of a wildly successful music career is something Shane vividly remembers, and even craves. He lights up when describing the feeling of performing in front of a thousands-strong crowd.

The five boys themselves formed тιԍнт, intense bonds over their years of working together

‘When you’re on stage playing for 10,000 people, there’s an energy that’s very real. There’s a force,’ he says. ‘It’s like if you stood in front of a bᴀss speaker in a nightclub. When there are 10,000 people screaming, you can physically feel that.

‘Keith and I hung out recently. We were talking about the luxury of that experience. When you stand on that stage for the first time in a long time with that crowd — there’s only a tiny percentage of people who will ever get to experience that.

‘He asked me, ‘would you do it again?’ But I don’t ever want to be in a band again. I don’t want to be Boyzone. I don’t want to release records. I don’t want to travel the world.

‘But I’ll certainly have a party. And if that party consists of 20,000 people in an arena, then I’ll go and do it. Not for a long period of time but I would certainly adore standing back on stage with my boys and just going, it’s this thing again, isn’t it?’