Flogging Molly - 'Swagger' / 'Drunken Lullabies' (Burning Heart)
3/5
By: Thomas Hannan
So, even the bitterest sounding of musical geniuses has a sense of humour, then. There are few other obvious reasons for why Steve Albini chose to produce these last two Flogging Molly albums, both here re-released in plush new packaging by Burning Heart. For, given his CV (Pixies, Nirvana, Japanese grind core, fronting hardcore bands with names like Rapeman for pete's sake), the last thing you'd expect him to do next is to engineer and mix not one but two records by a Californian traditional Irish punk band... Keep pushing those boundaries, Steve.
Apart from the blatant baffling nature of their relationship, there is another reason to put such an emphasis on Albini's involvement. For it's sad to say that once the novelty of Flogging Molly has worn off (and, for some, this will happen very quickly indeed), there remains an entertaining side to this manic septet, but only slight traces of any real interest. At least this would be the case if it wasn't for the man in question. The way these instruments sound is frankly incredible - drums are colossal and guitars still menace even when strumming out up-tempo drinking songs. The banjos, fiddles, tin whistles and the like he probably had a bit more trouble with however.
So, quite unintentionally, there's some depth to this you can find, after all. But at heart, the 'Molly are a punk band, as energetic, straight up and tuneful as they come. The story begins with 'Swagger' (***), a rollercoaster through frantically paced punk-a-billy with some instrument or other always, always laying down some recklessly wild solo over the top (check the jam-packed 'Juan El Sentimental' for a fittingly silly example). It's formulaic, simple, but gosh darn it, this really is fun. Anyone writing something so (really not that) morose as 'The Worst Day Since Yesterday' definitely knows how to laugh. Hard. Yet more evidence - this is a world where people still use words like 'Daddy-o' and 'jig'. That's something we should crack a childish smile at.
Flogging Molly would probably do the same. Although they seem to have mastered Irish musicianship, it's bewildering why they've chosen to be so self-parodying with it; would inhabitants of the Emerald Isle really be flattered with such tales of simple living and drinking? It's not that you get the impression that they're trying to insult anyone, they're just hardly doing much to change preconceptions. The only thing they're actually being irreverent with is our ears as 'Swagger' races to its close. We'll let them off.
'Drunken Lullabies' (***), the group's second record, is hardly a progression, but a refinement of a sound, and variations and improvements on their beloved theme. This is the better album, but that's not to infer that any track here would sound even a little out of place on the preceding LP. It kicks off brilliantly - the title-track in possession of the plucking of the most bad-ass banjo you'll ever hear (honest). The songwriting has come on considerably, the band developing an ability to turn a rousing sing-along into a proper outright anthem - just imagine throwing your fists towards the air in the appropriate places on 'What's Left of the Flag'.
It doesn't quite bear the same exuberance that their legendary live performances give across, but, save for 'Death Valley Queen' and the tender 'If I Ever Leave This World Alive', still never lets the pace slip bellow the setting dubbed 'really bloody fast' for very long. The Irish theme follows and gets spruced up from the one that appears on 'Swagger' but sadly also carries with it a tendency to indulge in the mediocre, the places such as all-tedious five minutes of 'Rebels of the Sacred Heart' are where the joke, somewhat inevitably, starts to wear off. Perhaps the album's highpoint is where they leave the blueprint behind for a second on 'Another Bag of Bricks'. Then, somehow, they sound vaguely Egyptian.
Those who aren't either Albini-geeks or good-time punks with a wistful view of at times dangerously stereotypical Irish culture won't bother sticking up for Flogging Molly. The latter category, however, now has a perfect couple of soundtracks for drinking each other under the table.
Artists in this article: Flogging Molly
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