Pol Mac Adaim "My Name Is Troy Davis" CD

I awaited this new release by Belfast native and Irish Rebel balladeer, Pol Mac Adaim with great anticipation. And without any doubts, my wait was not in vain. And what a marvelous release, dedicated to both, Pol’s mother and Troy Davis, victim of State persecution and injustice, this CD will undoubtedly be remembered as one that stands apart, and proves that Pol Mac Adaim’s contributions to folk music has reached the greatness of Luke Kelly, Woody Guthrie, Pecker Dunne or Matt Mc Ginn, and proves also, that the rebel sounds of Ireland still shake the earth like summer thunder.
  

Beginning with David Rovic's rousing tribute to those Irish soldiers that joined in the cause of Mexican freedom, "St. Patrick's Battallion" is a great anthem of solidarity and who better to do a fine version of this classic than Pol Mac Adaim,    a musician, Fenian, socialist, and working class hero, who has sung songs in four different languages, and who understands the importance of international solidarity, and a reminder of the deep friendship between Irish and Mexican soldiers :

“From Dublin City to San Diego

We witnessed freedom denied

So we formed the Saint Patrick’s Battallion

And we fought on the Mexican side”

Continuing with mighty sing-songs of freedom, “Legacy of Brendan” is a stirring tribute to the legendary freedom fighter, Brendan “Darkie” Hughes, a tune that really causes you to reflect and reminds us all of one of Ireland’s finest and bravest sons. With beautiful melody and moving prose, this rebel ballad will be remembered as one of the greatest Irish Rebel ballads of the 21^st century :

“Farewell to the streets of Old Belfast

The place where I was born

Farewell to my friends and brave comrades

Those gallant ‘dogs of war’

When I think of the lives that were sacrificed

In 30 years of war

And I see what became of my country

I ask myself ‘what was it all for?’

Great ballads always make you stop and think and reflect on great men and women, and this tune ranks as one of the finest of rebel ballads, without any doubts. And if this tune does not resonate with you, you don’t have a heart.

Never to cease to amaze us with great anthems of proletarian rebellion and Fenian resistance, Pol marches on triumphantly, with a brilliant tribute to the people of Mayo, “Do You Feel?” , who are standing up against the tyranny and injustice of Shell Oil Corporation. Stripped of their native rights to fish their own bays and seas by the Corporate parasites and Free State puppets whose greed has no bounds and who do not have a bone of compassion or courage in their over-fed bodies, this great tune reminds us of the courage of the people of Mayo , fighting back to protect their waters from the toxins of Shell , whom have no ethics nor any respect for the people nor the people’s natural eco-system and their need to defend that eco-system from the Fat Cats of Shell Oil. As Pol says himself so well :

“So here’s a health to the people

Who’ve kept up the fight

For the cause you’ve embraced

Is both noble and right

And a message for the gangsters,

Their henchmen and media clowns

Despite all your tricks and your tactics so sick

Like the system that you’ve rammed down our throats with a stick

Your methods will all be in vain, We won’t let you prevail….”

Next, Pol does a stellar cover of Christy Moore’s tribute to the Blanketmen, "Ninety Miles From Dublin",  and all the Irish Freedom Fighters confined to the H Blocks in the 1980s. Well done, Pol, no one else can tackle a Christy Moore classic like yourself and breathe new life into an old mighty ode to the Men of 81’ like Pol Mac Adaim.

Afterwards, Eamon O’Doherty’s accolade to gallant Joe Mc Cann is done splendidly by Pol, reminding us of how much of an impact, just one man can have, even when faced with his own inevitable death, but still deciding to fight with his last breath against all odds :

“His cause was the freedom of the people in this land,

The Protestant and Catholic working man

But he caused the Bosses fear and for this they paid him dear

So they murdered brave Joe Mc Cann.”

Next, without skipping a beat, the rousing title track, “My Name Is Troy Davis”, begins with a mighty harmonica call-to-arms, reminding us of the cruel injustice and State brutality that still continues in the “United States of America”. Pol’s stirring ballad, reminds us all of Che Guevara’s wise words on solidarity in the face of injustice :

“If you tremble with indignation at every injustice, then you are a comrade of mine.”

And also reminds us that even in the “land of freedom”, if you happen to be black, poor, not one of the privileged class, or just not wealthy, and you are at the wrong place at the wrong time, you can become another victim of injustice in this so-called “democratic state”.

Next, another amazing and powerful original by Pol is his “H-Block to Maghaberry”, causes us all to pause and reflect on the P.O.W.s in Maghaberry and Portlaoise, and their daily tribulations:

“I know this is now and that was then,

But the same situation is looming again

As British intransigence drags us all back through the slime

How long will we let the Brits dictate

What is a crime in this illegal state

As they rape, murder and pillage

Their way through time?”

Pol’s tribute to the imprisoned Freedom Fighters in Maghaberry and Portlaoise is a powerful reminder that the fight goes on and that as long as there is a British military presence in Ireland, the injustice and tyranny that is always a part of the British Occupation will keep Ireland without freedom, equality, justice, peace or sovereignty. No matter how the Media, the British Crown, and their Sinn Fein puppets spin it, the chances of having a United Ireland under these unjust circumstances is very slim.

“Wild Mountain Thyme”, next takes us away from the slum landlords, drugs, violence, turmoil and tribulations of the city, for a nice intermission, and Pol’s splendid version of this William Mc Peake classic is worth your while. Mellow tunes are always a great listen after songs of rebellion, war, tragedy, injustice and the fight against tyranny, just like sitting down and having a beer with the guy you just fought, after the rumble.

Afterwards, “Another Day”, is a great tribute to the freedom fighters of Palestine and a great reminder of the horrors and injustice of foreign occupation and Zionism. As Pol says himself in this brilliant tune :

“In the White House they refuse to hear our children scream

Far too busy trying to fool the world, with their American Dream

But humanity knows and humanity cares,

Humanity will bring an end to the oppression of the people there

Then we’ll see another day in Palestine…”

And as this great CD comes to a grand conclusion, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that the last track of this stunning album, “Butterflies”, a nonpolitical and very spiritually uplifting tune, was to be my favorite song of the CD. Another brilliant original by Pol, this song kind of creates a musical dreamscape where the melody gives you wings and allows you to fly, like a butterfly :

“Would you like to fly away

With me for a year and a day?

Our troubles we’ll cast to one side

As we embark on our mystical flight

We can be butterflies….”

-- Rory Dubhdara, Radio Rebel Gael 

www.polmacadaim.org

The Wakes " The Red and The Green" CD :

I know that not every band can survive through its third release, sometimes its just like sequels to movies that you once liked. You wish that they had just released the debut and then called it quits. But with The Wakes, you realize that you have discovered a band that only gets better with each release, and this “The Red and The Green” is proof positive that The Wakes are here to stay, to keep you dancing, boxing, drinking, thinking and demanding more of their unique Glaswegian euphony. So I felt obligated to share my strong feelings about this CD and review which is a stupendous third release by The Wakes, with an awesome cover that gives tribute to revolutionary Scot and Clydesider, John Maclean, a man whom would feel at home with these Rebel rockers, known as The Wakes.

There are musicians whose sounds are bound to cause a riot, and if not a riot, than atleast a good fight, the spirit of their music so moving that you are ready to wage war. Dropkick Murphys or The Battering Ram, led by legendary crooner and balladeer, Declan Hunt, qualify in that regard, while other bands might make you sentimental, thinking back to those “glory days” of yore. Other musicians write songs that make you want to cry, their ballads so heartbreaking that you can literally feel the pain of the man or woman that the musician is singing about. Johnny Cash or Christy Moore come to mind. And there are not too many bands that can combine that fighting spirit with that distinctively Irish, poignant feeling, like these Rebel Glaswegians, known as The Wakes.

“Colours” , the first tune on this shining example of Glasgow-Irish Rock n’ Reel that is “The Red and The Green”, is a moving tune about hate and the walls that are built up by the State and society, to divide us all. Here , The Wakes, call to battle is a call to tear down those walls, and let peace and the brotherhood of man, prevail, even if momentarily. And even though I have never been a believer in utopian ideas like “World Peace” or the idea that Big Business is building jobs for you and me (dream on suckers, they are outsourcing your job to China, as we speak), I like the sentiments, because all The Wakes are really saying is to not judge a book by its cover, don’t judge someone simply because they are different, don’t assume that all Protestants are Loyalists, or that all muslims are in Al Qaeda, or that all supporters of Westham United are wankers. Haha. Lead vocalist and guitarist, Paul, can really croon and reminds his fellow Glaswegians :

    “This is our city and these are our colours…”

Afterwards, Eamonn’s thunderous drumming and Chris Crooky’s flute finesse take us to the goldfields of 1849, where its “To Hell or California” because we aren’t going to live forever, and we might as well risk it all for the chance of a lifetime to rise from our grim poverty by striking it rich. A mighty and upbeat tune that will make you want to dance a merry jig on the skull of Maggie Thatcher. And you can just blame The Wakes, because ladies and gents, they have that kind of infectious rhythm that drive a man to dance, rather than drink.

Next, “Men To Be Feared” reminds us of a rougher day in Irish-American history where law held less sway than the law of the gun, and where men, lived by the creed; “You live by the sword and you’ll die by the sword”, a song that is probably my favorite on this kick ass album, another historical fighters anthem that brings to mind the gangs of the 5 Points, circa 1857, and the legendary battle between the Bowery Boys and the Dead Rabbits on Mulberry Street on July 4th, 1857, in New York’s , Lower East Side. As the song goes :

“Baptized in blood….We live to fight another day !”

Probably the best sluggers sing-song since Dropkick Murphys “The Warriors Code”.  Brilliant fighters melody by Glasgow’s finest, The Wakes.

There are so many magnificent melodies and Fenian harmonies on this amazing CD that its difficult to pick favorites, but after “Men To Be Feared”, which rates as my #1 brawlers tune, their stellar version of “Peat Bog Soldiers” must be noted as one of the finest versions I’ve heard yet, and I would be remiss not to give accolades to Christopher James, whose harmonica really made this tune so damn beautiful to your ears. Not to mention the powerful chorus sung throughout this marvelous battle hymn.

But, “John Macleans March” really must be remembered with special recognition, possibly being a tie with  “Men To Be Feared” as the top tune of 2013, and 2014. it’s the kind of tune that brings the Rebel Spirit of the Red Clydeside to your living room with surround sound and marching feet , chanting slogans of protest and solidarity, as you feel like you are marching against recruitment for the British Army with John Maclean himself, and I know that this tune would make him proud, if he was still with us, as it’s a jubilant reminder that the fighting Celtic spirit of Glasgow is still alive and kicking !

        -- Rory Dubhdara, Radio Rebel Gael


http://www.thewakes.info/

Brick Top Blaggers "Two Years Enough" CD :

California has spawned some stellar Celtic Rock bands over the years, notably Flogging Molly, The Mighty Regis, Lexington Field, and now Orange County’s bar room heroes, Brick Top Blaggers with their 2nd full length , “Two Years Enough”, which is beautifully illustrated by artist Michael Wade Malone, whose album art captures the blood soaked, bombed out streets of Dublin during the Easter Rising of 1916.

     Beginning their mighty musical tribute to those who’ve gone before with wit and enthusiasm, Intro track, “Plastic Paddy”, thunders from your speakers like a rocket propelled hand grenade or the pounding hooves of a thoroughbred at the Punchestown Races, a rowdy brawlers beat with brilliant  breakneck speed accordion playing that demonstrates the Brick Top Blaggers furious fighting rhythm that leaps at your ear drums like an angry mountain lion. Lead vocalist, Steve Almond, never fails to keep us singing along, as he leads us over Bunker Hill, through the mountains of Harlan County, Kentucky, to march triumphantly onto the steps of the GPO, and then back home again, towards whiskey soaked revelations and bare knuckled brawlers bruises. A true treat to behold, Nick Morgan's fiddle finesse, and Nolan Lynch’s prowess with banjo, bouzouki and mandolin and Matt Maulding’s accordion attacks will keep you on your toes, for high kicks and melodious deliverance.

Next, “Quitters Never Win”, gets us off our arses as we pogo and slam dance through one round after another of lager, stout, whiskey and raucous reels backed up by jubilant jigs that will keep us dancing, drinking, thinking, and boxing, every man for himself, as Brick Top Blaggers mop the floor with their Celtic Rock strumming and victorious drumming , thanks to accomplished drummer, Kevin Ousley, and the booming bass of Dustin Lindberg, as we stage dive through another musical melee that will keep the punches flying, the bar stools soaring through the air, and the brilliant guitar work of Daniel Murillo, strumming (that keeps us humming) through the mighty storm.

As incredible this tune , “Quitters Never Win” truly is, my favorite track on this fearsome CD must be the title track, “Two Years Enough”, which launches from your speakers like a  Surface to Air Missile, Matt Maulding’s bag piping taking us to the battle field, where we trade blows with rival football hooligan firms, swinging our hurley with a mighty whack against the thick skulls of our foes. One of the mightiest Punk tunes that I’ve enjoyed yet, this is just another reason why Brick Top Blaggers are a force to be reckoned with.

        Afterwards, “The Rising”, is a stirring ballad and an amazing and poignant tribute to the men and women of Easter Week, and with poetic grace and Fenian harmony, the Brick Top Blaggers  again surprise me with their ability to go from rowdy drinking tune to Fenian ballad without skipping a beat.

“Spancil Hill”, is next, and is probably one of the best versions of this old air that I’ve listened to yet, and definitely the loudest.

Afterwards, “The Burning of Bridget Cleary” is a provocative and rocking tune based on the true story of a woman who was burned alive by her husband in 1895 in County Tipperary because he believed that she’s been abducted by fairies with a “changeling” left in her place. Like the old Irish nursery rhyme ;

Are you a witch, or are you a fairy
Or are you the wife of Michael Cleary ?

This tune reminds us of one of the last alleged “witches” to be burned in Ireland, and how powerful the belief in the Spirit World really was at the time.  Fair play to Nolan Lynch, the band’s banjo and mandolin player, for writing a great tune, my only criticism is that I kind of felt that this tune really should have been creepier, with the eeriness of a good macabre Irish tale, you’d expect the music to reflect a darker ambience, instead of the Dropkick Murphys-like , party feel that you get with this song. But to be fair, its still not a bad tune.

Next, “The Battle of Stirling Bridge”, takes us back into the mists of time, and magically captures the Gaelic spirit of the Rebel Scots who fought on that fateful day. Probably one of the most brilliant tributes to Scotland’s fighting spirit that I’ve heard yet, and Nolan Lynch’s mandolin playing, accompanied by Matt Maulding’s bouyant bag pipes, really makes this tune the ultimate Celtic Warrior’s anthem. Proud, defiant, rousing, this is the rebel spirit that Brick Top Blaggers invokes in this fighters melody.

“Coffin Ships”,  next takes us back to the dark days of 1848 and the huddled hungry masses of Irish, exiled from their native soil by the British mandated genocide that is mistakenly called “The Famine” :

      “From the empty fields and empty graves
      Where once the seas of barley waved
      Down to the bay the starving slip
      To board their coffin ships…….

    The waves are full of hungry eyes
    And stabbing teeth as the tempests rise
   The sky grows dark above the Devil’s ark
They call the coffin ship…”

A moving lament written by Nolan Lynch, whose prose is as stunning as her mandolin and banjo playing, with her natural talent, the deftness of these Brick Top Blaggers really shines through the darkness in this poignant tune.

Afterwards, “Eastern Promise” is another brilliant song written by Matt Maulding, which reminds you of the first time you heard Gogol Bordello, or Andy Irvine’s love for Bulgarian melodies. Kind of reminiscent of some good Klezmer as well, this raucous reel tells a tale of toil, turmoil and fighting for every bit of earth that you stand on.

And if that wasn’t enough to keep you singing and dancing, get ready to swash buckle with those Buccaneers from Orange County, with this tune of plunder and pillage and poitin, “Walk The Plank Again”, which is like rum in your coffee, just another rousing rocker that will keep you on your toes.

Next, “Love By Attrition”, is an intoxicating Punk Rock love song that brings back the spirit of Joe Strummer and Phil Chevron both, reminding you of the first time you kissed that girl that you had been day dreaming about when you were supposed to be studying Trigonometry. A marvelous song of romantic days gone by, taking you back to that London street corner when Victoria first kissed Shane. A song that really makes it possible for the blackest of hearts, to believe in love, once again.

“Witness To My Own Wake”, follows, a boisterous ditty that reminds us all of our mortality and that friend we once drank with, who is no longer with us, but who will always be with us in spirit, keeping our spirits high. With catchy lyrics and revolutionary rhythm, and a little bit of bittersweet memory, this mighty tune almost makes me want to go to Church, almost :

“Lay me down on a Sunday in the early morning mist
Where the cold Atlantic meets the western sky
Sound the pipes and the trumpets one last time
Raise the banners in remembrance of me…”

This one should be played equally at weddings and funerals.

Lastly, “American Dream”, is a reflective broken heart aria that says farewell and is about shattered dreams and regrets and the hard reality of 21st century America. This imaginative track is a good choice to conclude a phenomenal and groundbreaking Celtic Rock epic, one that I am sure will become as timeless and unforgettable as the first car that you crashed. Brick Top Blaggers really capture the spirit of working class Irish-America, in all its grit, grime, grace, rhythm, melody, rebellion, and ruminations.

 
                                       - Rory Dubhdara, Radio Rebel Gael

DUBLIN NOIR : The Celtic Tiger vs. The Ugly American

Edited by Ken Bruen, Akashic Books, 2006

Men stand in dark alleys in pools of yet darker shadow, drinking dark amber fluids from flasks that shine like the very grail. Booze here is salvation. The gun, a cross. Smoke leaks from square unshaven faces, blue as sadness. Neon signs across the alley are greasy and smeared, buzzing in the never ending rain. Trash scutters along concrete. Sirens blare in the distance. Tail-lights wiggle in sky black puddles; the sky itself leans like a drunk on the tallest buildings.

“The Canonization of Pulp” - Greg Bottoms

 Bottoms perfectly captures the essence of noir, for those who may be unfamiliar with this style of literature, the urban tales and hard boiled crime stories that brought James Cagney and Humphrey Bogart to the silver screen and put a face on the poverty, despair, depravity and urban turmoil that often creates the street crime and bloodshed that paints the city crimson. From Dashiell Hammet and Raymond Chandler to Mickey Spillane and Chester Himes, a darker , rougher, unrefined urban saga of the modern concrete jungle and street justice became familiar to a growing audience. The popularity for this “pulp noir” or “noir crime” literature would grow in leaps and bounds, and not remain confined to the dark alleys , bordellos, and speak easies of New York, Chicago or London, despite the whims and whinings of Do gooders, politicians, preachers and the so-called “moral majority”, who were always content to point the finger, but always lacked any concrete solution to the problems that plague the metropolis, only moral platitudes and “Just Say No” jingoism. 

Whether they like it or not, this crime and violence will not go away simply because they wish to ignore it or brush it under a rug, after their tiresome and self-righteous “moral” lectures. And now that the metropolis, the nation and the globe, is sinking into the deepest financial abyss since the great depression, crime will inevitably rise and therefore, the grim and gruesome, blood-soaked, bullet riddled and knife scarred stories of hardboiled detectives and the criminals that plague our city streets will leave many stories behind for accomplished writers to tell. Too long noir crime fiction has been seen as something only local to New York, Chicago, or London, and now there is a growing Irish under current in this genre of urban crime literature, with many Irish authors proving to the world that the Irish, have always had a strong dark undercurrent in many of their tales. Even pre-Victorian , Irish fairy tales illustrates this. The leprechauns, fairies and banshees of Irish folklore , before these tales were appropriated by the British, were known for killing humans, stealing babies and being up to no good, on a regular basis. If Jung was right when he wrote that all ethnic folk lore is simply a blueprint, laden with tribal symbolism, of the collective soul of said culture, (perhaps some of these dark fairies and bad leprechauns symbolized “the enemy within” during centuries of foreign occupation) than it should be no surprise, that these Irish authors just happen to be the best hardboiled crime writers in the 21st Century. Ken Bruen, Declan Burke, Pat Mullan, and now, former author of teenager-based fantasy series, “Artemis Fowl”, Eoin Colfer, this Wexford native is now also proving his noir finesse with his new novel, “Plugged”, a hardboiled story that takes place in the grimey pavements and back alleys of New Jersey. And this anthology, DUBLIN NOIR, is hard evidence that the best writers on Dublin street crime mysteries are, inevitabley Irish, as with the sole exceptions of Reed Farrell Coleman and Charlie Stella, it takes some authors of Gaelic blood to properly illustrate the horrors of the savagery of Dublin street crime. Not to apologize for it, not to try and put a “moral of the story” at the end of the tale, but to just, tell it like it is. And no one can get right to the (sharp and deadly) point, while weaving an intricate plot laden with suspense, grim tidings and death defying feats, like these modern seanchai.

When I interviewed Belfast native and Irish Rebel musician, Ray  Collins, a few years back in front of the Baggott Inn (R.I.P.), we were talking about all of the “Irish” bands from Germany, Holland, Japan and Eastern Europe, who rarely had a single Irishman in the band. Ray commented that whenever people who aren’t Irish play Irish music, it’s a compliment if they play the music well, and an insult if they do it badly. This reminds me of this DUBLIN NOIR anthology a great deal; it really proves that tales are better told by the natives than tourists, people that only know Dublin from their weekend visits, hen parties or stag parties, and lets face it, I would rather hear about Dublin from a Dubliner, and this is the main flaw of this book, because it is an American publishing house, they had to choose primarily American authors to talk about a city that they have only visited, and it is not as genuine as having a local tell you about their hometown and let’s face it, many Yanks, clearly do not understand the Irish psyche nor the true nature of those dark Dublin streets (like authors who insist on every Irish character in their stories, having a pint of guiness in each hand, even if they are homicide detectives on the job, or IRA volunteers, executing a rapist, they must be drinking beer while exacting justice), but despite these obvious flaws, there are indeed a few shining stars (like Brooklyn based author, Reed Farrell Coleman). But it goes without saying, that all of the Irish authors in this anthology, are indeed, the best, hardboiled crime writers, that the 21st century has to offer.

"Jaysus Christ , I hate feckin’ Americans ! The donkeys worst among ‘em. And them arse-licking cops worst of all. Them with their fifty-two paychecks and pensions, their red noses and “Danny Boy” tears. They think glen to glen is a conversation of like-minded punters. Cunts, every last one. Them that sees romance in a bloody holocaust and the smell of cordite in the streets of Derry. And they ease their guilt and fancy themselves Provo men because they open their wallets and sing Pogues songs and drown themselves in pubs with a gold harp above the threshold. What a load of shite.

Oh, and how they imagine us Irish in the worst possible sense; a race of toothless spud farmers in white cableknit sweaters and black rubber boots, spouting Joyce or Yeats, herding lambs with a switch in one hand and a pint of Guinness in the other. And what of our race of red-haired colleens? Why, they’re out in lush pastures in their white blouses and green-plaid skirts gathering clover and hunting for pots of gold. Bollix !"

---- Reed Farrel Coleman, Portrait of The Killer As A Young Man

Whiskey of The Damned “Moonshiners and Shoplifters” CD :

I remember the day that I first heard Punk Rock. I think my first taste of Punk was when I was a 12 year old  skateboarder who often would stay up late watching TV and reading comic books in the summertime, when school was out. Something about staying up late when all of the adults were asleep and all was quiet gave me a rare sense of tranquility and made me feel like I was temporarily , King of the Roost.  There was no authority figure to watch over me, so this must have been my first taste of “freedom”.  This new burning spark of optimism and freedom that is such a part of youth, was really ignited one evening , when I was blown away by the Chicano Hardcore Punk band, Suicidal Tendencies, and their music video, “Institutionalized”, how ironic, that a white kid, living in the suburbs at the time, could feel resonance with such a street level tune. But stranger things, have indeed happened. Later, some of my fellow skaters lent me some Dead Kennedys, Black Flag, Minor Threat, The Misfits, Dead Milkmen, The Ramones, Gorilla Biscuits, and Agnostic Front, and the rest is history. To hear Jello Biafra scream about death squads, tyranny, demented rednecks, police brutality, corrupt politicians, corporate puppets and mad scientists, really had a profound impact on my teenage brain. As profound as the first time I heard The Pogues version of “ The Recruiting Sergeant-The Rocky Road to Dublin-Galway Races” from their “If I Should Fall From Grace With God” album on the radio program that my dad listened to weekly, “The Thistle and The Shamrock”, or the first time I heard the stirring voice of Luke Kelly.  And that’s probably why I can never pass up the opportunity to hear new musicians carrying on the torch that Joe Hill, Pete Seeger, Luke Kelly, Shane MacGowan, Damien Dempsey, Joe Strummer, and Jello Biafra carried through out the generations, keeping the spirit of radical music alive and kicking.

These upstart Milwaukeeans, led by Dubliner, Eoin McCarthy,  are   like a light in the darkness, with Punk Rock over the years, having become so commercialized, pretentious, plastic and sterile, and another product to market to the brain-dead masses, these Punk Rockers are not victims of fashion, nor obsessed with image, they are just downtown scally wags who drink too much, don’t care what you or your neighbors think and just want to travel the land like modern day Johnny Appleseeds, planting the seeds of rebellion, discontent, discord, do it your self ethics, and most of all, down home, damn good melodies.

This debut full length “Moonshiners and Shoplifters”, does exactly what is described, gets you drunk on their manic musical frenzy, and steal you heart, in one fell swoop, and take you to a place where , who you know, who you are related to, what kind of car you drive, or which political party you do or don’t support, is meaningless,, where all that matters is that you appreciate old time rhythm and are not full of shite, and that you relate to that Hobo Wanderlust that echoes through out their rowdy rhymes and back alley ballads, like the long lost spirit of Woody Guthrie jamming with The Clash. Larger than life, filled with love, grief, lust, joy and strife, these gypsy wanderers have created a mighty melody that will take you to Appalachia, through the streets of Tallaght, and into the crashing waves of memory, headfirst, like a hillbilly that has moved to the city and brought all that rustic charm with him, and kept his old still and banjo, so that the rhythms will always be a little off-kilter but rocking and reeling, nonetheless, always surprising the listener with a sound that is a little Midwestern, and a little Dublin.

Ten tunes of fury pack this stupendous feat of boisterous sing song street symphony and bar room ballads that will keep you drinking, thinking, and dancing, to infectious grooves that remind you of the first time you drank whiskey ---- there’s that burn and then the sense of pure euphoria. In a nutshell, that’s Whiskey Of The Damned.  Like an alley cat that has discovered a hidden stash of catnip, this rough and raw city-billy musical caper will keep your toes a tapping and your ears tuned to a Milwaukee beat that is a little street and a little Kentucky holler.

1st track, “The Wreck”, is like a hobo harmony that has been  cooked over the hot coals of the Rustbelt. Rusty, musty, crusty, dusty and delirious, but delicious to your ears, you imagine music that would have come out of some Frankenstein music monster created by a mad scientist who was able to fuse the genes of a Motown band, spliced with the genes of the Pogues and then injecting them with the DNA of Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs. It’s a diabolical musical experience that only the Whiskey Of The Damned can summon.

So many superb rockers and ballads on this husky hobo musical platter, but the 2nd track, “Thump Keg” really steals the show like a theif in the night, a fast moving lament to Dublin, that makes you want to dive head first into the intoxicating rhythms of Milwaukee’s musical Beast (because music is soothing this beer-soaked banshee) , Whiskey Of The Damned, a song that sings of personal freedom, whiskey, rock n’ roll, life’s journey,  and the existential quest  of liberation through gut rot hooch and hobo harmonies.

Next, “Enemy of the State” begins with a deceptively calm fiddle introduction and then storms in like a gale force wind, thundering bass, eletronic guitar, unholy drumming and the hypnotic singing of Eoin McCarthy. warning listeners that Nietzsche was right when he commented that,;

    “……State is the name of the coldest of all cold monsters. Coldly it lies; and this lie slips from it’s mouth:

‘I, the state, am the people.’ ”
But I really don’t want to give away too much, curious readers, but suffice to say that this rowdy punk rocking jig is reason enough for you to want to sip deep from the whiskey wells of Whiskey Of the Damned. And I would be remiss not to mention that , if Eoin’s tribute to Dublin, “El Biblio Techa” and drummer, (guitarist and lead vocalist on occasion,) Andrew David Weber’s assault on dirty politicians and the corrupt nature of politics in  “Cheap Whiskey”, and my all time favorite track on this kick ass CD , “Wayward Waltz of A Drunken Ghost”, is not enough of a reason to make you a life long fan, than you sir or madam, have no soul. And anyone who hears the beautiful harmonies in “Wayward Waltz of A Drunken Ghost” which are nothing short of brilliant, will understand why the Whiskey Of The Damned,  are indeed, living legends, in my humble often, loud , opinion.

            - Rory Dubhdara, Radio Rebel Gael

Patrick Madden and Friends "Sounds of Saint Andrews” CD :

Ran into these traditional balladeers at Saint Andrew’s Pub near Times Square a few weeks ago and was really impressed by their vibrant live sessiun and had to get a copy of their debut CD, which is a great showcase of both Irish and Scottish traditional jigs and reels , played with raw talent, with the bonus of Kerry native, Mary Courtney (of Morning Star) on vocals, Donnie Ryan (also w/ Morning Star) on banjo, Patrick Madden’s fantastic fiddling (and crooning) and Shane O’Sullivan’s vocal accompaniment with twelve stellar tracks on this kicking demonstration of traditional Celtic music at its finest. Patrick Madden and Friends really put teeth into the old and weathered (yet still thriving and lifting you from your seats, thanks to this merry band) face of Gaelic traditional sound. And their rocking renditions of “P is for Paddy”, “Go Lassie Go”, “Loch Lomond”, “Fiddlers Green” and “Caledonia” , displaying a real connection to the roots of traditional Ireland and Scotland, make this mighty release, a must listen. Get your own copy at CD.baby.com …The exemplary banjo playing and fiddlers finesse is reason enough to not let this brilliant CD pass you up. And don’t forget to see them live every Saturday night, 9 PM to 1 AM at St. Andrew’s Pub at 140 W. 46th Street, Manhattan.

                -- Rory Dubhdara, Radio Rebel Gael

"Since the English occupation, we have had little or no national art in Ireland at all, and there is not the slightest chance of our ever having it until we get that right of legislative independence, so unjustly robbed from us, until  we are really an Irish Nation ---  nation for whose constitutional liberty Henry Grattan lived and died. There is, however, one art which no tyranny can kill and no penal laws can stifle --- the art of poetry. An art which is one of the supreme triumphs of the race to which we belong. The poetry and music of Ireland have been not merely the luxury of the rich, but the very bulwark of patriotism, the very seed and flower of liberty."

                   --- Oscar Wilde 1882

Derek Warfield “Washington’s Irish (Vol., Songs, Music & Story of the Irish Fight for American Liberty , 1765-1815)” CD:

These days it can be difficult, at times, to be proud to be “American”. But it helps if you are both Irish and American, and an amazing tribute like this, dedicated to the Irishmen who fought against the British Army, here in the USA, makes it possible, to again, be proud of your “American Heritage”, without sounding like some kind of rightwing kneejerk throwback to the Reagan era. Than again, these days, in post 9/11 America, you don’t have to reach back into the past to find reactionaries and fascists, and countless willing tools of American and British imperialism.

Despite this depressing fact, this patriotic tribute to “Washington’s Irish”, makes it cool to be proud, once again. And you know that the co-founder of the legendary Wolfe Tones, will not fail to deliver what really is the finest musical masterpiece since The Dubliners “Irish Rebel Ballads”. And with each Derek Warfield release you are always guaranteed to also get a historical lesson, through the superb music, and with the historical booklets, that are always more detailed and in-depth than most full size history books, with the factual story of every song on the CD, because Derek Warfield is not just a gifted musician and song writer, but he’s also a gentleman and a scholar. Yes, that phrase is bandied about, sometimes too much, but this balladeer studied the history of each song that he performs or the song that he actually wrote and he pulls no punches and pulls no stops to give you the full account of both the song itself as well as the archival figures and historical symbols , sung about in each verse, as well as the historical profile of the songwriters themselves. And as if that wasn’t glorious enough, this album’s beautifully illustrated with art from that period, as well as modern artists such as Don Troiani, who really paint a dazzling portrait of many of the soldiers who ousted the Brits.

This poetic odyssey begins with “Irishman’s Epistle (To his Troops at Boston)”, an American Revolutionary era satirical epic that is very Jonathan Swift in its wit and sarcasm :

“By me faith but I think your makers of bulls
With your brains in your breeches and ass in your sculls
Get home with your muskets and put up your swords
And look up your books for the meaning of words
You see now me honeys, how much you’re mistaken
For Concord by discord can never be taken.”

This bit is a great poke at how crestfallen the British were, when their old divide and conquer strategies, failed in their wars against the American colonists, whose religious diversity; Catholics, Moravians, Huguenots, Presbyterians, Pilgrims, Puritans, Quakers, and Mennonites, united, rather than divided them, in their fight against British tyranny.  Derek really knows how to bitch-slap the British agenda, and this classic revolutionary war strain was one of George Moore’s collection of ballads from the period in his “Songs of the American Revolution”, which has the intriguing lyrics to so many great songs, minus the music score. Derek Warfield saw this as a great challenge, and did a superb job of writing the music accompaniment, of a tune that would have been forgotten otherwise, and this song really sticks it to the British Imperialist agenda, while making you proud to be a Yank.

Next, the joyous sing along “Dance And The Song And the Shamrock So Green”, written in 1786 by Matthew Carey, for “The Friendly Sons of Patrick” Dinner, to the tune of “Sprig of Shillelagh”, is a song of optimism written during the genesis of the American Republic, and despite how far from the ideals enshrined in the Declaration of Independence, this country has really strayed, this really is a brilliant piece of Irish-American musical history.

Afterwards, “The Battle of Kings Mountain”, is a cracking tune whose lyrics were actually found in the pocket of a dead volunteer and preserved by the song collector, Dr. J.H. Logan :

“We shouted the victory that we did obtain
Our voices were heard seven miles on the plain
Liberty it shall stand and the Loyalists will fall
Here’s an end to my song, and may God Bless you all”

This particular tune is really a rousing tub thumper that will make you want to dance, possibly naked through the streets while shadow boxing, or if you’re a more sensible guy, like myself, burn a Union Jack, if you can find one, within walking distance. Where I live in New Brunswick, N.J., you are as likely to find a flying UFO as a Union Jack flying from a local lamp post. Instead, you’ll see many a merry Mexican flag, Puerto Rican, Dominican, Italian, Ukranian, Jamaican, Hungarian, Irish, and of course, an odd American flag as well. But that’s just New Jersey, folks, a land of many cultures.

My favorite tune on this mighty masterpeice must be the third track, “Matthew Carey’s Poem to Saint Tammany”, which is a great tribute to Native American warrior and old school New Yorker, Saint Tammany, written on the date of Saint Tammany’s anniversary on 1st of May, 1786, and who else can do such a remarkable, hats off, to both New York and the legendary Indian chief, Tammany, than the skilled poet and Dubliner, Matthew Carey. Derek Warfield and his Young Wolfe Tones do a brilliant musical version of this classic New York poem. Its just another reason to get yourself a copy, curious reader, because you are seldom disappointed by these lively Young Wolfe Tones.

Something that really should make you proud too, was a quote I came across in the CD insert booklet, by Michael J. O’Brien, commenting on the dedication and courage of the Irish Soldiers of “The Men of the Pennsylvania Line”, fighting against the Brits in the American Revolution, every one an Irishman, and so adroitly, chronicled here :

“While the heroism, devotion, and fidelity of that renowned corps, in supporting and defending the cause they espoused, constitute for its imperishable claims to the respect and admiration of posterity, their story is comparatively little known to the American people, for no literary trumpet has sounded their praises. What more gallant figures in American military annals than Captain John Brady the revolutionary scout and frontiersman, Timothy Murphy the hero of Saratoga, Major John Kelly who destroyed the bridge at the battle of Stony Point? On the retreat from Trenton, thereby saving the Patriot troops from capture. Lieutenant William O’Neill who held in check an English force at the Battle of Brandywine, these and many other equally gallant soldiers were attached to regiment of the ‘Line of Ireland’ but no one except the student of history now recalls their services to their country.”

Derek’s eyes for detail, respect for historical accuracy, and his musical genius, makes this CD another must have, and shows that there will always be an unbreakable link between America and Ireland. Case in point, would be “A Dream of Liberty”, which is probably the most patriotic tune about America, to be written by an Irishman, and another great song that reminds you that the American people, especially the American working class, are not to be confused with the corrupt and despotic U.S. government.  Yet another moving poem, put to music, written by Kerryman, Sean McCarthy, who must have fallen in love with this country and had to express his sentiments in prose :

“I wondered then as I watched these men who flouted King George’s might
Would Redcoat hoards with their glittering swords wreck Vengeance in the night
Then a voice rang out in the starry air :
Stand fast young man, be brave
Far better to die ‘neath an open sky
Than to live like a cowering slave.”

-- Rory Dub., Radio Rebel Gael

McAlpine's Fusiliers " When Giants Walked Our Streets" CD

I became a die hard fan of these Australian Celtic Rockers a few years back, when in 2007, they sent me a copy of their debut CD, “Sons and Daughters of The Soil”, a phenomenal release that sung the fighting spirit of working class Australia in all its beer, blood and sweat-soaked glory, from the legacy of the Irish convicts and Ned Kelly and his Bushrangers to the mighty fight of the insurgents of the Eureka Rebellion, raising the banner of the Southern Cross, McAlpine’s Fusiliers capture that Aussie-Celt feeling with all its rawness and vitality.  True to their Irish-Australian roots, these balladeers have  really put Bendigo on the map with their Bush Ranging Rock and Rebel Reels, kick starting this musical tale of labor, love, rebellion, and Australia, with one of the best tributes to the Australian Worker, since Alistair Hullet.

   Beginning with the thunderous title track “When Giants Walked Our Streets”, a doughty rousing sing song along that will make you want to rumble and take you to the bloody battlefields of “the War that will end all Wars”, and the plight of working class Aussies giving their lives for a mythical freedom and returning , often with missing limbs, to lives of poverty, hunger and dashed hopes:

“The Twentieth Century split families asunder
With its cannon thunder
Leaving empty chairs and cold double beds
Strangers in photos and hearts full of despair

It was barely twenty years since a generation was blown to hellAnd those who came back were crippled or barely a shell
Jobs were far and few and memories of hunger scarred the soul…”
With a jaunty galloping melody that takes you back, with the skilled  banjo strumming of Link Miller, and the dynamic vocals of Claire Johnson (who also plays the fiddle) and lead guitarist, Leigh Schroeter, accompanied by the accordion finesse of Rowan Blackmore and the indomitable drumming of Sean Loughran, McAlpine’s Fusiliers will never let you down with their exuberant jigs and rocking reels that are absolutely Australian while remaining boisterously Celtic.

Next, “Blackleg Miner”, is a classic anti-scab, pro-Union anthem that is truly reborn with a vengeance thanks to the mighty Aussie Proletarians, known as McAlpine’s Fusiliers. I’d first heard this tune on the Angelic Upstarts album, “Last Tango In Moscow”, with Welshman and former miner, Thomas “Mensi” Mensforth simply doing the old tune A cappella. Let’s  just say that McAlpine’s Fusiliers rendition of this old English folk song is the best that you or I, will ever have the privelege to listen to. But don’t take my word for it, curious readers, get off your arse and get your copy of “When Giants Walked Our Streets”, before its too late !

Afterwards, “The Longneck Reel and Friday Night” is a third piece of evidence (if any is needed!) that McAlpine’s Fusiliers are not whistling Dixie with this Polka-Punk limerick with just enough Honky Tonk to keep you crying in your beer until last call, while giving  your best friend a black eye and simultaneously getting a skull cracking from your ex-girlfriends frying pan. But atleast she likes good down home Swaggie symphonies, and who can make you sing along like  a toothless hillbilly who just had his moonshine still busted up by the revenuers and his pick up truck repossessed, who can else make you want to howl at the full moon about your woes and your joys like the unvarnished, uncompromising, but never uncouth or out of tune, McAlpine’s Fusiliers, who tell a tale of the common man’s trials and tribulations with true grit and grace.

And not to give away too much, but their 4th track on this bad mamma jamma, “The Edge of The World”, is a stellar tribute to the daring prison break of the Fenians at Fremantle Prison, Australia, engineered by John Devoy and his New York brethren of Clan na Gael, and one freedom loving American whaling captain, George Anthony. This dazzling tribute to these brave patriots really captures the spirit of this courageous and brilliant Catalpa rescue to free the six Irish Republican Brotherhood P.O.W.’s , by hell or high water. God Bless McAlpine’s Fusiliers for helping us to remember, with these powerful words of warning :

“So here’s a warning to all you despots who exile liberty
There’s no distance that will ever offer a reprieve
For hope will outlast any prison cell
Even at the End of The World in a man made hell.”

Wise words, indeed.Next, “Portland” is another jubilant jig that functions like a Time Machine, as fiddle, war drums, acoustic guitar, accordion, bass and banjo, take us on a musical sojourn through the gold fields and constructions sites and dance halls and race tracks and football fields and local pubs into the land of Dreamtime. A deeply spiritual song that will feed that musical hunger , where :

“With food in their bellies
And dreams in their sleep
The shackles of the past will fall at their feet”

A song of liberation and resurgam ! Just another reason why McAlpine’s Fusiliers, can’t be beat.

Continuing to rock us off our seats and raise the rafters, next we are treated to a great rendition of “Follow Me Up To Carlow”, and a set of traditional jigs and reels (not to mention their phenomenal version of “Swag Upon me Shoulder and The Siege of Ennis”, that concludes this CD), but one of my favorite tunes on this marvelous rhythmic masterpiece must be “The Great Ocean”, a luminous harmony that captures the unshackled spirit of Australia, and again reminds us of the fact that Australia, like the America, Ireland, Scotland, and so many other nations, were built upon the blood and sweat and sacrifice of countless generations of workers, whom without, there would be nought.

    But the song that really impressed me the most on this fantastic album and caught me by surprise has to be “Facing The Devil”, a song of spiritual warfare and the fight for freedom, as the Fenian brigade of McAlpine’s Fusiliers arm themselves for battle, their only weapons; their trusty banjo, bass and acoustic guitars, accordion, and drums of war :

“Traitors cheered as hearths were pulled down
Of  Patriots led away from their towns
Hearts were smashed and women wailed
As the exiled went out under full sail

Scattered beyond the reach of evil’s hand
Hearths were rebuilt in new lands
The flame of freedom bursts back to life
Good men rally once more to freedoms light.”

And ladies and gentleman, should there be a musical battle, be sure that the mighty McAlpine’s Fusiliers will be the ones that will :

“……rally once more to freedoms light.”

          ---- Rory Dub., Radio Rebel Gael

Radio Rebel Gael Presents :

 Defiant Voices !

http://radiorebelgael.podomatic.com/

FEAT. Special Guest,  Eoin McCarthy of WHISKEY OF THE DAMNED !!!

http://radiorebelgael.podomatic.com/entry/2013-09-30T12_14_28-07_00

And all your Favorites !

Including: Ciaran Murphy, Liam Weldon, Colleen Raney, Ray Collins, Pascal Burke, Mike Fox, Black 47,  Socks In The Frying Pan, Cruachan, The Irish Brigade, The Killigans, The Rumjacks, The Wakes, Sharky Doyles, Screaming Orphans,  Whiskey of The Damned, 

http://www.spreaker.com/user/radiorebelgael/radio_rebel_gael_presents_defiant_voices

And all your Grandpa’s favorite melodies !

The Killigans "Another Round for the Strong of Heart" CD

These stout Nebraskans never fail to blow my mind, and my ear drums, with their mighty Celtic Folk-Punk sounds. And this, their 4th full length album, is one that will lift your spirits and give you another reason to fight for your rights and dropkick a banker, a fat cat, an Oil Tycoon, a developer, a dirty cop, a bent politician, and all that prey on the weak.

With the rousing voice of lead singer Brad Hoffman (who also strums most of the acoustic ballads for the band), the mighty accordion symphonies delivered by Pat Nebesniak (who also plays some fine mandolin), while his brother, Trevor Nebesniak brings the booming bass, and the third Nesbiak in the band, another brother of this musical family, Chris Nesbiak, accompanied by second guitarist, Greg Butcher, give us our dose of electrified guitar rhythm, as the battle ensues for musical prowess over the soul-less corporate doldrums of Pop clap trap, leading us on, towards ultimate Celtic Punk liberation, with The Killigans asking listeners to heed their call to arms:

“Friends hear me well, I have not long to speak,
I bear a message for the duped, the trodden upon, the weak,
I have walked through the ichor of subterfuge and greed,
Meant to mollify the masses' national identity
A once proud and independent people
Now lie in shackles…”
 This intro track promises that you won’t be disappointed and with Ben Swift’s drumming and backing vocals, you know that at this point we will all be slam dancing and pogoing to the provocative beats that only The Killigans can deliver.

With ten kick ass folksy yet punk rocking anthems on this CD,  its    hard to choose favorites, but I would be remiss not to mention  “Hey Sergio”, the band’s tribute to a fallen friend, “Take Me Back”, a boisterous sing song , remembering those Punk Rock glory days of yore, “Salt of the Earth” a poignant fighters ballad that would make Joe Hill or Luke Kelly proud, and most of all, the very Eastern European sounding tune, “The Bottoms”, a fine tribute to the poor working class Russian-American neighborhood known as “The Bottoms” in Lincoln, Nebraska. With amazing accordions thanks to gifted musician, Pat Nebesniak, it could be a song about Hells Kitchen, Woodside, the Bogside, Fishtown Woodside, or the Southside of Chicago, but instead of an Irish hood, the same social plight and bleak poverty is to be seen in a Russian hood, where :

“Crawling from the rubble at first you thank God you’re still alive,
Cuz you know you should be dead,
Put your faith in Main Street , in Wall Street,
And your own feet all along,
Now you know you’ve been misled….

Fall from the top to reach The Bottoms,
Come join the lonely and forgotten,
And as we pass the broken homes,
On broken cobble stones we hear a voice ;
‘Who cries for the forsaken?’  ”

A deep and resonant song for me, and just another reason, ladies and gents, why you must get a copy of “Another Round for The Strong of Heart”.   It might be your salvation.

   
   -Rory Dub, Radio Rebel Gael