If you're like me and you've been training your liver for the past month in preparation for the upcoming weekend, then you've no doubt also needed a soundtrack. While we could listen to Floggin’ Molly and Dropkick until the cows come home, it’s often nice to stumble upon something new. I find that if I simply continually drink Guinness to Salty Dog by Floggin’, I have trouble distinguishing one drunken morning from the next. So, while you’re stumbling around the city on Sunday, and need to hum a little tune, try to veer away from the predictable. Also, if you run into me at all this weekend, know that I have an inability to say 'no' to Jameson.
Humorously enough, I’m about to throw three bands your way which aren’t even Irish. It seems as though all the Irish descendants of the world have wanted to pick up on the craic even more than the homeland. (Oh, and if you don’t know what craic means, smack yourself upside the head, buy me more Jameson, and learn before St. Patty’s). Even the two heavy hitters mentioned previously are from California and Boston respectively (Ok, Dave King was BORN in Ireland, but has lived in the US for a long bloody time). In the end though, what really matters to me is the feeling behind the music. If you’re playing amazing death metal, I don’t really care if you’re a Satanist or not. Last I checked, you don’t have to be from the hood to rap anymore. As such, why should we impose a patent on Gaelic music to be exclusive to the homeland(s).
First and foremost, as I love to do, I’m going to champion my home. Manitoba produced yet another amazing band a while back called Scruj MacDuhk back in the 90’s. They were a more laid back, female fronted Gaelic group with catchy little reels and very singable music. I managed to catch them live at the Winnipeg folk fest when I was younger and remember them as one of the only bands that was able to get people to dance.
Sadly, this reference is so obscure that I couldn’t’ even find a bloody Wiki, let alone their old site. It would look as though the members went their separate ways. Ruth Moody, the groups voice, moved onto her own solo career. Leonard Podolak, the bands’ former writer, started up another group called The Duhks, however their sound changed drastically into some sort of Latin influenced… thing.
But you didn’t come here for Latin music, or music that I can’t even find anymore (way to recommend a real gem, dumbass). No, you came here for the stuff that kicks you in the face and says, “DRINK WITH ME!! I AM GLORIOUS!!!!!!.” You came, for a bunch of drunk-ass Auzzies. Catgut Mary is an eight piece force of whiskey influenced madness. If you’re a fan of Dropkick, you’ll like these boys from Melbourne. Proving that tin whistles and accordions can still be cool, Catgut Mary should be a fine addition to your day of green.
I wear my maple leaf with pride, and so do Ontario’s Mudmen. You’ve likely heard these guys, even if you didn’t know it, because they’ve hit up more placement deals than most Hollywood movies (ie: WWF, or whatever it’s called now). I fell in love with these guys a few years ago, when I heard the song Saturday.
I’m not gonna lie, I have drinking to do, and I’m getting tired of writing. My heart wasn’t even in today’s post, and like a lustless lover, I’m leaving you. I have to apologize in advance, because the next week is going to be a bit scant in the blog region. This weekend should be a write off (though I am entertaining the thought of a drunken-post-Hurley's podcast) and next week, I’m heading home to spend Easter with the family. If you’re looking to track me down, I’ll be parked at Hurley’s for most of the weekend, with the exceptions of Jesse’s birthday debauchery, and marching with my rugby team in the parade.
-Putting the ‘drunk’ back in drunk.
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