Celtic punk is an interesting kettle of fish. I’m not sure who came up with the idea of mixing elements of traditional Irish music with the dirty, nasty sweat stains of punk music, but it’s a combination that has proven wildly successful and hellaciously fun, bringing the heartache and beauty of Ireland to the pubs and colleges of New England. Flogging Molly gave us their second album, Drunken Lullabies, in 2002, an entertaining, rousing collection of songs that cemented them as one of the mainstays of the genre.
With seven members in the band, playing everything from accordions to banjos, fiddles and tin whistles to spoons, Flogging Molly throw it all into the Drunken Lullabies cauldron. The result runs the gamut from exhilarating anthems (“Drunken Lullabies”, “Rebels of the Sacred Heart”, “The Rare Ould Times”), bittersweet odes to better times, (“Death Valley Queen” and “If I Ever Leave This World Alive”), and even a soft and gentle album-closer (“The Son Never Shines (On Closed Doors)”). Lest ye think that’s all there is to it, there’s even the pirate-themed “Cruel Mistress” and the Middle Eastern-tinged “Another Bag of Bricks”. Whatever your poison, Flogging Molly serve it on Drunken Lullabies.
Putting the title track (and one of the strongest songs on the album) as the opener is a good move. “Drunken Lullabies” is a catchy, boisterous ditty that jumps into action after Bob Schmidt’s banjo introduction, Bridget Regan’s mournful fiddle weaving and dancing with Dave King’s angry vocals. King isn’t the world’s best vocalist, but his Irish brogue adds an honesty and sincerity that works best with songs close to his heart, like “What’s Left of the Flag” and “May The Living Be Dead (In Our Wake)”. Even when he strains his voice on the simple, plaintive “If I Ever Leave This World Alive”, it’s hard not to get caught up in the emotion and the moment.
“Death Valley Queen” is one of the album’s many highlights, a stirring, bitter, and oddly beautiful tribute to the one that got away. That Flogging Molly can so naturally and easily shake things up from song to song is a credit to them and Drunken Lullabies. It would make for a great singalong, either at a bar or a concert, a nice respite from the rambunctious mayhem that comes before it. When the lights are low and the booze unlocks doors you long kept closed, that’s when “Death Valley Queen” comes in.
Dropping the ball would have been easy (maybe even forgivable) after “Death Valley Queen”, but “Another Bag of Bricks” weaves, dances, jigs and kicks around Matt Hensley’s accordion and Bob Schmidt’s banjo. It’s not the flavor you’d expect from a band like Flogging Molly, but there are plenty of other Irish drinking songs on the album. That every song has its own unique feel and vibe, is what makes this album a keeper. After a crooning introduction, normal service is resumed on “The Rare Ould Times” (“Well my name is Shaun Dempsy / It’s Dublin as can be”), before the mellow and lullaby-like “The Son Never Shines (On Closed Doors)” takes the album home. Or, at least, into the hangover.
If you want to know what Drunken Lullabies is like, think of it this way: the album starts with the band fiercely denouncing the ignorance of the Northern Ireland conflict (and having a hell of a time doing it), and ends with Dave King crooning “And we all go the same way home”, as he slowly plucks his (left handed!) acoustic guitar. Add the kitchen sink to that mix, and you’ve got a real gem of an album that’ll make you wish you were Irish and in need of a liver transplant. Drunken Lullabies is, simply put, a hugely entertaining, fun, catchy and memorable album that takes you on a journey through rebellion and heartache, love and loss, wet streets and crowded pubs. 5.0/5.0