Live @ Connolly’s, NYC
I stood perplexed in the entranceway of Connolly’s for a moment. There was a bar to my right packed with happy hour revelers and clearly not hosting live music. A suspicious looking elevator stood quietly to my left and an inviting set of stairs in front of me. It was obvious to me what my choice was. The walk leading up to the third floor reminded me of a back entrance to some apartment building in a seedy neighborhood. You expect to be transported into a scene from a NY crime drama and a confrontation with a gruff detective or snappy-dressed wise guy. Passing the second floor I spotted a hand-drawn sign announcing that the ‘Jivin Jones Irish Rock Fest’ was on the third floor.
Passing thru the unsuspecting door I was greeted by Kevin; Fest coordinator and member of Icewagon Flu. He was kind enough to send me an invite the night before. I had been to an Irish Rock Fest show before so I knew I was in for some fun. It was just what I needed to let off steam after a really stressful week. I’ll spare the details but suffice to say, after I found my place at the bar, my Jameson and Smithwick’s were going down easy.
Connolly’s is a family owned four location chain of traditional Irish pubs in NYC. This location (121 West 45th Street) is also the Saturday night home of the band Black 47. It’s a large yet very warm place. It can and does house all sorts of events. Tonight for example you have dinner and drinks on the fist floor, an 80’s style DJ dance party on floor two and Irish festivities up top. Food is available throughout however I did not partake.
Overall I would describe this place as solid and sturdy. Heavy, dark etched wood form the long bar area. Thick ceramic light fixtures bathed the ceiling in warm light. The precarious stage however appeared a bit slapped together. In sort of a ‘T’ shape, it left very little room for movement. I could imagine a number of accidents happening here. Although, the type of risers they used to concoct this area seemed to be easily transformed. So perhaps it morphs shape based on the event. I have no proof of this theory however.
OK this was freakin’ me out. A pregnant lady was sitting nearby at the bar drinking a whiskey sour. I thought hey, maybe she’s just overweight … nope … preggers. She also complained to her companion that it hurts when she laughs. Perhaps that’s why she’s drinking. There is a new study out that claims one glass of wine a day can prove to be beneficial to the unborn baby. I’m not sure highballs fall into that same medicinal concept. By the end of the night she will have had only one, so … maybe.
The first band of the night compensates for the lack of a keyboard stand by using two barstools. The Screaming Orphans are four sisters who hail from Donegal County, Ireland but who’ve been calling the Lower East Side of Manhattan home for the past four years. Lead vocals are handled by Joan who also commands the drums. By her own confessions of ego, she wanted to stand upfront at the start of the set. So they opened with an acoustic tune. Amazingly beautiful harmonies and a pop dynamic give them a unique sound.
After their set I was chatting with guitarist Grainne who described their usual sound as being more rock/pop. Tonight as they will occasionally, they broke out the fiddle, bodhran and accordion to help quiet the calls for more tradition. It seems that once folks hear their accents it is assumed that they will be more traditional. Of course we both agreed that U2, the most famous of any Irish band in history is about as far from traditional as you can get.
They also threw in some interesting covers like ‘Jolene’ by Dolly Parton and ‘Seven Nation Army’ by The White Stripes. Still the most interesting fact of the night was the revelation that I apparently look like the Gallagher twins from ‘back home’ in Donegal as well as two other fellows. Although Grainne was kind enough to say that I was the better looking of the lot. This was confirmed by her sisters. Thanks girls … I needed that.
The ever-enjoyable Icewagon Flu hit the stage next and I was concerned that it would not be up to handling the frivolity. Their trademark synchronized dance moves were sure to test the tolerance of the risers. It’s always a fun time with their unique, humorous twist on the Irish sound keeping the joint hoppin’. The Reggae-fied version of ‘Whiskey in the Jar’ is a perfect example of their take on music. As is ‘Suspicious Minds’ segueing into ‘Where the Streets Have No Names’ and back again.
An interesting array of headgear—skull cap, top hat, head wrap and such—adorned the heads of Ceann. Based in NYC by way of Pittsburgh, Caenn’s music has fun with the concept of being ‘mostly Irish’. It’s that all too common phenomenon of ‘everyone’s Irish on St. Paddy’s Day’ and so on. Entertaining anecdotes of Paddy O’Paddy from Ireland City Ireland and girls who drink Yuengling Lager are backed by the most traditional sound of the night.
They also have a theory that all Irishman love Pirates. When other kids write the names of bands on their schoolbooks, Irish kids draw pirates. I’m not sure about this but I think being from Pittsburgh makes them biased on this subject.
A bit of a side note here … buy backs make me happy. The bartender spotted me for two drinks in the course of the night. It’s this sort of attentive and friendly service that makes me want to give my patronage to a place.
Last up came The Kissers who were the most polished troupe of the night. Though their talent was obvious, their sound really didn’t move me at all. I felt there was a lack of passion. Replaced instead by a ‘lookie what we can do’ feel. They were also by far the loudest band of the night so it was fitting that they ended with a cover of The Who’s ‘Baba O’Riley’.
There was another long walk awaiting me as I left Connolly’s and headed toward the PATH train. This was another fun ‘Irish Rock Fest’. I can’t wait for the next installment.
See Also:
Jivin’ Jones Irish Rock Fest Website
The Screaming Orphans
Icewagon Flu
The Kissers
Ceann
