Once manager to the stars, Allen Bailey now promotes a greater God with the Harlem Gospel choir, he tells Arminta Wallace

Cynical folk, us hacks. Not to mention spiritually challenged. So when somebody says "gospel music", swiftly followed by "Harlem Gospel Choir" and "Irish tour" and "chunk of cheery copy, quick as you can, chop, chop", the word which springs to mind is not - frankly - "Hallelujah".

On the line from New York at an ungodly early hour of the morning, however, is Allen Bailey, founder of the aforementioned choir. According to his own press release, Bailey devotes his time to "spreading the joy of faith through the Harlem Gospel Choir's performances around the world". Once upon a time, he was promotional director for - among others - Lionel Richie and the Commodores, Prince, Mr T and Isaac Hayes. He was also entertainment co-ordinator for the world's most famous heavyweight fight, Mohammed Ali and George Foreman's "Rumble in the Jungle" in Zaire.

A pretty unholy mob - would he not agree? A wholewheat chuckle - think Eddie Murphy on vodka and Red Bull, and you're nearly there - makes its way across the Atlantic. "Now, see, I think that's what sparked me to go on and do this thing with the Harlem Gospel Choir," Bailey declares, when he finally stops laughing. "I had the opportunity to see first-hand how money and fame really throw you off base. The people I've worked with, they all had their beginnings in the black church - Prince, Michael Jackson, Diana Ross. But now I'm doing something much more important. What I do now affects the lives of people, whereas before, it was just stroking people's egos. These big stars surround themselves with people constantly yessing them. They tell them how great they are, day and night. You the best. You the best. You the greatest. They sort of lose touch with what reality is. I think that's what happens.

"I had one gentleman call me - he was on tour in Sydney, Australia, and he called me at 4 a.m., and he said, 'Allen, you know what?' I said, 'What?' And he said, 'Fifty-fifty. Allen, this is 50-50.' I said, 'What the heck are you talking about?' He says, 'Fifty-fifty, man.' I said, 'What the hell is 50-50?' He says, 'I'm sleeping on 50 per cent cotton, 50 per cent polyester sheets'. He wanted to change the sheets. In the middle of the night. You see how you can lose touch with reality, right? This is a guy who came out of poverty. All of a sudden he only wanna sleep on silk sheets. Oh, by jingo . . ."

Now we're both laughing. But Bailey is only getting warmed up. "And another thing. Another gentleman, he sent a memorandum around to all his staff and everything, saying that when you're in his presence you shouldn't put your eyes on him, you know? Look upon him. Sort of deifying himself. So I said, 'This is it. If this guy's gonna call himself God, I'm gonna work for the real thing. I'm not gonna worship a god with a baseball hat on . . ."

Words on paper don't even begin to do Allen Bailey justice: his accent, his pacing, his wry, gentle tone. Damn. This guy really is nice - even at an ungodly early hour of the morning, New York time.

Meanwhile, he has moved on to the subject of the choir's forthcoming visit to Ireland. "Ireland is one of our best tours," he is insisting. "People there are so enthusiastic about our music. Irish fans are the most dynamic we've ever encountered.

"Next" - he continues, as cynical hack makes choking sounds into the phone - "to the Brazilians. Aw, yeah. It don't take much to get them going, you know? And when Irish people come into New York, one of the places that they wanna visit is Harlem, to see the black church and the massed choirs."

Harlem, of course, isn't quite what it used to be. For the past decade or more the area has found itself in the middle of a corporate takeover of sorts, with all the major players - Warner Brothers, Blockbuster, Disney - plonking glamorous hi-tech offices there. From outside, though, the prevailing view of Harlem is still overwhelmingly negative. "Every country has bad stuff," says Bailey. "But in Harlem, it's magnified because it's black. I had a couple of tour operators ask me the other day, 'Does Harlem still have all those problems?' One was from Colombia, and one was from Italy. And I'm going, 'What's wrong with this picture?' Here's this guy coming from the cocaine capital of the world, and another guy coming from Murder Incorporated, and they're telling me I got problems? Oh, man . . ."

The Harlem Gospel Choir was founded on January 15th, 1986, birthday of Dr Martin Luther King. "And it was founded on the principles of Dr Luther King - bringing people together and giving something back," says Bailey. At home, the group boasts a total of 60 singers, drawn from local churches in Harlem and, increasingly, from the tri-state area which includes Connect-icut and New Jersey. It tours, however, with no more than 15 singers at a time.

Are there any soloists he'd like to mention? "No, 'coz everybody is somebody in our group. We don't have no superstars." The Eddie Murphy laughter booms down the line again. "Everybody's somebody, you know?"

As for what they'll be singing, "Oh, we can't tell you that; we got secrets", but it will incorporate traditional gospel, gospel jazz, gospel blues and, no doubt, a few surprises. This, after all, is the choir which has toured with The Chieftains - and sang with U2 on the song I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For. Does this sort of collaboration represent a development in gospel music? A move away from what might be called "classic" gospel? "Yeah, it's crossing over," says Bailey. "People ask us all the time. 'Are you gonna cross over?' And we say we don't mind crossing over - it's just that we're gonna take the Cross with us."

We're laughing again - but this, it turns out, is the serious bit. "The choir is foremost a ministry," Bailey explains. "We do benefits for children's organisations all over the world. We're not entertainers. We're missionaries for Christ. People see our form of worship as entertainment, but this is the way we choose to praise our Lord and Saviour. We dance and sing, we jump up and down the aisles and so on and so forth. The other day I went to a Quaker church - which is just the opposite. The Quakers sit there and meditate for two hours, and then they leave. Whereas if you come into our church you'll see everyone singing and dancing. Everyone brings an instrument, everyone's making noise, hitting each other on the head, whatever . . ."

One man's silence is another man's music - but then, religious music is itself a broad church, enfolding everything from Handel's Messiah to Gregorian chant via Sufi love songs. How does gospel music actually work, on a spiritual/artistic level? "It's inspirational. People these days want to be inspired, and that's what makes our music so popular. You get feedback from the audience all the time. After the show you get these hugs, you get people crying, you see that you're touching people. And that's what keeps you going, no matter how tired you are. I mean, we're going back to Australia again, and that's looooong . . . 23 hours in the air. But when you get there and walk out on stage, and see those people with tears in their eyes, it keeps you going. The music inspires people."

Only one thing to say to that, so here goes. Hallelujah.

The Harlem Gospel Choir plays at the Royal Theatre, Castlebar, September 23rd; the Helix, Dublin, September 24th and 25th; Killarney NEC, September 27th; and Cork Opera House, September 28th