A sweet chaser for a bitter end
Flogging Molly slashes through the Casbah tonight
Virgil Porte
Issue date: 3/17/98 Section: Arts
You know, I fully understand all the history and folklore behind St. Patrick's Day. I've read the stories of how he drove the snakes out of Ireland and brought Christianity along with him (umm ... gee, thanks, man), but it all just boils down to having a legitimate excuse to drink.
One of the best bands in the world to drink to is Flogging Molly.
It's a strange amalgam of fiery Irish spirit, punk ferocity and beautiful melody. Altogether, the band is very hard to pinpoint but extremely easy to like. Every time I've seen them, they're packed onto the stage like sardines, all seven (and sometimes eight) members squeezed in, tight and cozy. The audience always seems to take that as a cue, because everyone crowds around the stage in a crazy beer-soaked fellowship. A strange awareness overcomes the kids; they chant along with the songs, fists raised in salute, and a one-body motion sweeping them around and around.
Flogging Molly has been around only a short time but has accomplished a lot. Through a network of voices, the word about them has been spread by friends telling friends, a concept almost unknown in this publicity-ridden culture of Southern California. The band released its first CD on its own, a live album with no studio embellishments, merely its own raw unclad noise.
The central icon in the group is vocalist/rhythm guitarist Dave King. A ruddy-cheeked and red-topped gentleman with a thick accent still clinging to his tonsils, he was the chief instigator when it came to getting everyone together. After performing countless open-mike nights and jam sessions at Molly Malones (pub in Los Angeles) the name Flogging Molly was established, and the band started playing out. Traveling down to San Diego, Flogging Molly's been met with ever-increasing fervor and has been drawing bigger and bigger crowds.
Even though King may be the vocalist and have the spotlight in his face most of the time, the essence is in the rest of the players: Bridget Regan on fiddle, John Donovan on guitar, Matt Hensley on accordion, Nathen Maxwell on bass, Bob Schmidt on mandolin and George Schwindt on drums.
Donovan handles the guitar with 100 percent rock 'n' roll; one of the few guys ever seen playing a great solo without sounding excessive or indulgent. Maxwell is mostly seen bouncing around and screaming out backing vocals (with or without a microphone), while Schwindt keeps an eye on him, making sure the rhythm section stays in place.
Usually with a wry grin on her face and maybe a sarcastic remark or two, Regan plays a classic Okie hoedown beat with her fiddle and keeps the feet dancing. The closest thing to a star, Hensley is infamous for his skateboarding skills and now wows everyone with the hottest instrument in the world.
Flogging Molly plays tonight at the Casbah. Pints of Guinness are only $3; they're serving free corned beef and cabbage and local ska-clowns. Unsteady opens. You must be 21 with I.D., and you can call 232-HELL for more information.
One of the best bands in the world to drink to is Flogging Molly.
It's a strange amalgam of fiery Irish spirit, punk ferocity and beautiful melody. Altogether, the band is very hard to pinpoint but extremely easy to like. Every time I've seen them, they're packed onto the stage like sardines, all seven (and sometimes eight) members squeezed in, tight and cozy. The audience always seems to take that as a cue, because everyone crowds around the stage in a crazy beer-soaked fellowship. A strange awareness overcomes the kids; they chant along with the songs, fists raised in salute, and a one-body motion sweeping them around and around.
Flogging Molly has been around only a short time but has accomplished a lot. Through a network of voices, the word about them has been spread by friends telling friends, a concept almost unknown in this publicity-ridden culture of Southern California. The band released its first CD on its own, a live album with no studio embellishments, merely its own raw unclad noise.
The central icon in the group is vocalist/rhythm guitarist Dave King. A ruddy-cheeked and red-topped gentleman with a thick accent still clinging to his tonsils, he was the chief instigator when it came to getting everyone together. After performing countless open-mike nights and jam sessions at Molly Malones (pub in Los Angeles) the name Flogging Molly was established, and the band started playing out. Traveling down to San Diego, Flogging Molly's been met with ever-increasing fervor and has been drawing bigger and bigger crowds.
Even though King may be the vocalist and have the spotlight in his face most of the time, the essence is in the rest of the players: Bridget Regan on fiddle, John Donovan on guitar, Matt Hensley on accordion, Nathen Maxwell on bass, Bob Schmidt on mandolin and George Schwindt on drums.
Donovan handles the guitar with 100 percent rock 'n' roll; one of the few guys ever seen playing a great solo without sounding excessive or indulgent. Maxwell is mostly seen bouncing around and screaming out backing vocals (with or without a microphone), while Schwindt keeps an eye on him, making sure the rhythm section stays in place.
Usually with a wry grin on her face and maybe a sarcastic remark or two, Regan plays a classic Okie hoedown beat with her fiddle and keeps the feet dancing. The closest thing to a star, Hensley is infamous for his skateboarding skills and now wows everyone with the hottest instrument in the world.
Flogging Molly plays tonight at the Casbah. Pints of Guinness are only $3; they're serving free corned beef and cabbage and local ska-clowns. Unsteady opens. You must be 21 with I.D., and you can call 232-HELL for more information.
