Then, somehow, they sound vaguely Egyptian. Perhaps the album's highpoint is where they leave the blueprint behind for a second on 'Another Bag of Bricks'. 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. 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 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 kicks off brilliantly - the title-track in possession of the plucking of the most bad-ass banjo you'll ever hear (honest). 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. '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. The only thing they're actually being irreverent with is our ears as 'Swagger' races to its close. 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.
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That's something we should crack a childish smile at.įlogging Molly would probably do the same. Yet more evidence - this is a world where people still use words like 'Daddy-o' and 'jig'.
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Anyone writing something so (really not that) morose as 'The Worst Day Since Yesterday' definitely knows how to laugh. It's formulaic, simple, but gosh darn it, this really is fun. 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). But at heart, the 'Molly are a punk band, as energetic, straight up and tuneful as they come. So, quite unintentionally, there's some depth to this you can find, after all. The banjos, fiddles, tin whistles and the like he probably had a bit more trouble with however. The way these instruments sound is frankly incredible - drums are colossal and guitars still menace even when strumming out up-tempo drinking songs. At least this would be the case if it wasn't for the man in question. 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. Keep pushing those boundaries, Steve.Īpart from the blatant baffling nature of their relationship, there is another reason to put such an emphasis on Albini's involvement. 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. 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. So, even the bitterest sounding of musical geniuses has a sense of humour, then.