Here at GMR we like the raucous music that builds on the Anglo-Celtic traditions; from the Oysterband to the Pogues, we’re there. And this omnibus review finds me with a nice collection of raucous artists, from St. John’s Newfoundland to St. Paul, Minnesota, and beyond. We’re drawing on mulitple traditions here, with music for wild, discontented souls.
First up is Jason Whelan, with his solo release Blur. Newfoundland artists can draw on a rich legacy of music from the heyday of the hardscrabble fishing culture. Fishermen brought their families to these shores to take advantage of the Grand Banks, and then there was the mass exodus from “The Rock,” as the fisheries waned through mismanagement and international poaching in the last century. Whelan also offers up a number of choice originals, as well as drawing on some great folkies like Fairport Convention, Richard Thompson and Gerry Rafferty. Whelan is mostly a bouzouki player, but on this solo effort he plays most of the instruments, although he relies on guests for fiddle (Colin Carrigan, Glenn Hiscock and Patrick Moran), as well as a number of others for accordion, whistles, banjo and bodhran.
I particularly liked his arrangements of the traditional “Emigrant from Newfoundland” and “Sally Bown,” as well as his original “49,” about the union of Newfoundland with Canada, an issue that rankles still, with the loss of the fishery.
Several other originals show that Whelan knows his way around a melodic hook. One in particular is “Goin’ Home,” which is about Newfoundland’s current crop of economic immigrants — and there’s some nice guitar work here, to boot. Whelan has a gravelly low voice that is well suited to many of these songs, although he does occasionally sing out of his range. Still, he is able to mix the raucous spirit, some local anger, and even some slow, thoughtful passages on this album. The “Knows Ye Can’t Go” set is well placed, providing a link between the traditional “Petty Harbour” and the angry “Goin’ Home,” and shows some skill with arrangement as well as being a credit to the players.
Blur shows a young artist with promise as both a singer and a song writer, working within the traditions of Newfoundland. Fans of this music looking for some finely crafted originals need look no further.
(self released, 2003)
Listening to Wrecked by the Tim Malloys is almost like having Home Week for me. Although I know none of the principals and just a few of the supporting cast, it was recorded at an Irish pub that can only be described as an institution in my old neighborhood in St. Paul, The Half Time Rec, and at a club where I mis-spent far too much of my youth, First Avenue in Minneapolis. Listening to the drunken live revelry, I almost expect to hear the covers (from some of the iconic artists most local music types would recognize: Tom Waits, the Pogues, and almost-local favorites Violent Femmes). It contains the romanticism about the Northern Irish republican cause only to be found in immigrant communities founded in the 19th century, with rebel songs like “Broad Black Brimmer” and “Merry Ploughboy.” And the traditional songs are delivered with a drunken reel that wouldn’t be out of place in many Irish American bars on a late Saturday night. Indeed, the Half Time Rec has kept the songs of the Irish traditions (sung in English, that is) alive in this community with their sing-alongs.
This disc is clearly put together with love, and in front of an adoring audience. These guys love this music, and they mine the standards, particularly those with alcoholic references (“Nancy Whiskey,” “Whiskey in the Jar”), very much in the spirit of the Pogues — the gravelly vocals are there, although the one-step-from-disaster delivery probably owes as much to McGowan as it does to a certain band from South Minneapolis, The Replacements, and there are many elements of unmistakable Americana in this Irish-Americana. As well as depending on several Boiled in Lead members for support in production or guest spots, “Turkish Song of the Damned” clearly owes a lot to these local heroes. It’s all in good fun, and a great romp.
But (I can imagine you wondering, dear reader) would you enjoy this quite as much if you weren’t from there? Well, this is a difficult one for me, but I think that if you’re hungry for a raucous Irish American bar band, then yes. These guys would be equally at home in North Jersey, or the Bronx, or Boston, or even Chicago. Great fun. Not serious, but it might prompt you to get that last beer out of the fridge, so be careful — evenings that begin with the playing of this disc might result in late mornings and bleary eyes.
(Fabulous Records, 2002)
The same could be said for a disc out of Boston, entitled Shite ‘n’ Onions, Volume 1, compiled by John Murphy. These bands owe more than a small debt to the Pogues, and to the insatiable demand for wild Irish bar bands in the States. A couple of groups covered by GMR show up here: The Mahones and New Jersey’s The Skels, both of which were admired by the more degenerate elements amongst our reviewers, speaking for myself at least. Gravelly voices, alcoholic rants, hard luck adventures and a general irreverence abound. What can I say? If you like that part of the musical terrain claimed by both Celtophiles and punks, this disc is for you. I particularly liked Siobhan’s “The Kilfinane Parish,” The Mahones’ “Drunken Lazy Bastard” and the Nogoodnixs’ “Angelina.” Other standouts are the Electrics’ “Killecranked Up,” the ska-fusion “Iron Lady” by The Spunk Lads and The Croppies’ “(Young) Ned of the Hill,” sung a capella with a great uilleann pipe introduction.
As usual, a compilation like this must meet the “burn it yourself” test. But here I have to raise a glass to Mr. Murphy, because this is a fine selection of bands and tunes. You may not rush out to buy something from every band on the disc — hell, you may not be able to get some of it. But as I noted in my Skels review, the man at the used CD store was begging me for leads on this music; there seems to be an insatiable desire for it, and there should be something here for everyone. My only complaint is that I think the Mollys deserve a place at this table — although they might have to shower off the testosterone later, because this is definitely a disc made by the male of the species. Perhaps on the next volume! I think Nancy McCallion could give most of these boys a run for their money. This is perhaps the most raucous of the the discs reviewed here. Great fun. Can’t beat punks for that.
(Omnium, 2004)
Whew! Three discs with unreserverd thumbs up. You’ve gotta be in the mood, feeling rebellious and casting evil glances as you stagger down the street on the morning after, in need of something to remind you of the fun from the night before, or getting revved up for the night ahead. Put any of these discs on, and you’ll be in fine shape.
