Sean Spillane On Music

How did I miss this group? I love Irish music. I love rock ‘n’ roll. I love Irish rock ‘n’ roll music.
So how has the group Flogging Molly been so far off of my radar? I mean, I’ve heard of them, but I never heard the group’s music.
The Pogues, Black 47, Dropkick Murphys, I love them all. But Flogging Molly, where was I?
My older brother Emmett and my friend Pete are into Flogging Molly music – as are their young kids – and still I floated through life unaware of how great this band is.
Thanks to Wednesday night’s concert at Toad’s Place, that is no longer the case.
Musically, the band owes much of its sound to The Pogues, although with a singer you can actually understand.
The singer and leader, Dave King, had his first taste of fame with Fastway, an ’80s metal band he formed with Motorhead guitarist Eddie Clarke. Well, Flogging Molly is a long way from Fastway, but King still supplies a healthy does of energy to his music.
Also adding to the ambience was the crowd at Toad’s. Not one of those sold-out, packed-to-the-gills kind of nights there, but a solid turnout for a rainy Wednesday night. Anyway, the audience seemed to know every word to every song and danced and sang for the full 90-minute show.
My next task is to track down past Flogging Molly albums and play catch-up with the rest of the group’s fans. It’s the first step in my trying to be as cool as my 6-year-old nephew Jack, who could have been right there singing along Wednesday, but, alas, it was a school night.

There was nothing surprising about Eric Clapton’s concert at the Mohegan Sun Arena Saturday night and that was a good thing. When you have Slowhand out on stage with a backup band of seasoned veterans and young hotshot guitarists, the only shock would have been if it was anything less than terrific.
Seeing Clapton wail away on his guitar is always impressive, but throw in his frequent collaborator Doyle Bramhall II, 37, and slide guitar whiz Derek Trucks, 27, and you have a night of pure heaven for lovers of the six-string.
In the Associated Press interview with Clapton, which ran in Saturday’s Connecticut Post, he said he felt that, at 61, he’s “definitely on the decline,

Reviewing comedy seems much more personal than music. People sometimes go to see bands they may not be too fond of, just to go to a concert.

But not many people will spend the money to see a comedian they don’t care for.

Such was the case Wednesday night with Dennis Miller at the Palace Theatre in Stamford. If you like Miller’s worldview, then you would have loved the show. If you disagree with his politics or find his references a bit too obscure, then it probably wouldn’t have been much fun for you.

I admit to being in the former group and find him to be a scream and feel strangely proud of myself when I understand one of those obscure pop-culture references he’s noted for.

The first half of the show was mostly devoid of political content and he busted out a few old jokes — comparing a woman who gave birth to her 23rd child to a clown car and how an ancestor of his worked in the sequin mines of Las Vegas.

Other targets included Bronson, Mo., (“Las Vegas for people without teeth”); Krispy Kreme’s proposed liquid doughnut (“perfect for fat people too lazy to chew”); and, of course, the French, whose plan to get rid of junk food in schools is “part of the French master plan to raise healthier cowards.”

Toward the middle of the show, Miller started to dip into his political grab bag and, though he claims to be “a Libertarian on most issues,” liberals took the bulk of the abuse.

For instance:

On former Vermont Gov. Howard Dean: “How can we take seriously a former governor who’s only job was to show his face once a year and nail a bucket into a tree?”

On Hilary Clinton: “Hilary said she didn’t know Bill was running around on her, well then she’s not smart enough to be my president.”

And he really unloaded on James Carville, calling him “a satanic Chihuahua” and “a Muppet washed on hot.” Miller, who backs the war in Iraq as a way of being “proactive instead of reactive,” was much kinder to the current administration than most in show business.

He imagined a conversation about Vice President Dick Cheney in a cave where one terrorist says to another, “Hey, Cheney just shot his friend in the face. And he hates us; what do you think he’s going to do to us?”

And President Bush, who “never said we’d find ‘nuclear’ weapons in Iraq. He said ‘nucular.’”

Miller also sounded downright conservative when it came to issues of racial profiling on airplanes (“The fact that the 9-11 terrorists came from the same region isn’t profiling, it’s called being minimally observant”); not executing murderers because they were temporarily insane when they committed the crime (“All right, then we’ll fry you in a clown suit”); and pedophiles (“They’re talking about implanting transmitters in pedophiles to keep track of them. You know what’s easier? Burials.”). Reading this, you might think it was a Republican rally, but Miller found enough humor in these sensitive topics to keep the crowd laughing. The audience did not, obviously, share all of his views, but Miller has the ability to make you laugh as he expresses his outlook, even if you disagree with it.

And laughing, really, is what it’s all about.

Seeing Aimee Mann perform live is always a treat, but to see her in the intimate setting of the Quick Center at Fairfield University was even better.
The small theater provided a perfect stage Saturday night for Mann and her two backing musicians for a stop on what she described in an earlier interview as a “pretty stripped-down” tour, which is, ostensibly, to promote her latest album, 2005′s The Forgotten Arm.
The concert started out very stripped-down as Mann came on stage solo to sing “High on Sunday 51″ and she also began the second song, “Goodbye Caroline,” alone with her bandmates — Jamie Edwards and Paul Bryan — joining mid-song.
Mann pretty much tore through her 18-song set in a neat and tidy 90 minutes and she also showed herself to be quite funny during her between-song banter with the audience.
While introducing the Academy Award-nominated song “Save Me” from the “Magnolia” soundtrack, she said: “I also know this as the song that lost an Oscar to Phil Collins and his monkey love song,” referring to Collins’ win for his work on the soundtrack to the animated “Tarzan” movie.
She also talked about her upcoming Christmas album, One More Drifter in the Snow, and said with a grin, “That was fun to make . . . even in the middle of June.”
When I spoke to Mann a few weeks back for last week’s Preview cover story, she said she hopes to have an album done for a 2007 release, but that she “had better start writing.”
Well, apparently she has been writing because she performed two songs — “Columbus Avenue” and “Medicine Wheel” — that are as-yet unrecorded.
One thing surprised me about Saturday night’s concert was the lack of “Voices Carry,” her signature tune from her days fronting the group Til Tuesday. I guess it shows how far she’s come in her solo career that she no longer feels the need to play that oldie and nobody in attendance called out for her to play it.
Mann was as terrific as I figured she would be, but the opening act, David Ford, was an eye-opener.
Thanks to tape loops he created right there on stage, the young British singer-songwriter was a one-man band and chorus and the crowd — with the exception of one loud-mouthed heckler — ate it up. But there was more to Ford than just the trickery of his live performance. If his songs weren’t any good, he would have just been a novelty that would have grown old by the second song.
Instead, Ford had the crowd in the palm of his hand and I’m surprised he didn’t come out for an encore, as the audience seemed insistent. Maybe there were time constraints, but it would have been a well-deserved honor for him.
Aimee Mann’s set list
High on Sunday 51/Goodbye Caroline/You’re With Stupid Now/You Could Make a Killing/Columbus Avenue/One/Wise Up/Save Me/Video/Little Bombs/She Really Wants You/4th of July/Medicine Wheel/Nothing is Good Enough/You Do/Today’s the Day
Encore: Lost in Space/Deathly

We buried our friend, Tom Hoffman, Friday and, as a Stratford police officer, he was given a send-off that would have embarrassed the heck out of him.
You see, Tom was shy by nature and all of the attention of a cop’s funeral would have had him blushing. Which was ironic because he was a proud member of the Stratford Police Department’s Honor Guard and had been a part of these rituals for many years. It just wasn’t in Tom’s nature to call attention to himself.
Selfless is probably the ideal word to describe him.
If you needed help, he would help. If he needed help, he probably wouldn’t ask and try to figure out a way to get it done by himself.
There is a certain prestige that comes with being a police officer and I’ve seen a few officers use that standing to their advantage. Tom was at the opposite of that spectrum. If he didn’t occasionally wear the jacket he received as a member of the Stratford PAL board, outsiders would have never guessed that he was a cop.
He would much rather talk about is Mets or his Jets or, if I pushed, I could get him talking about the Islanders, though he probably gave up on them years ago. It seems a shame he died so unexpectedly and at so young an age (he was 50) right when his Mets were getting ready for the playoffs and his Jets look like they may be turning things around.
Even though I root for the Dolphins and hate the Jets with a passion, Tom would always invite me to the Meadowlands for the Dolphins’ annual visit back when he was a season-ticket holder. The people in his section, that he had sat with for years, would say some terrible things to Tom about my being there, but he just shrugged them off. I was his friend, I was a Dolphins fan, I was going if I wanted to.
One game stands out in my mind. The Jets dominated the first half and all of the fans sitting around us were laughing and I was taking it all in stride. An older man, who Tom had sat with for years, even offered me some of the hot toddy from his thermos.
After the Dolphins rallied for the win, the mood I the section took a decidedly nasty turn. As we exited our seats for some post-game tailgating, the older man, still seething, yelled: “Tom, don’t ever bring him back with you!

Week 2 of vacation took a turn for the better Tuesday when my friend Pete banged on my front door to let me know he procured tickets to see The Who at Madison Square Garden that night. For $65, why not?
I realize I’ll be covering the band Dec. 1 at the Mohegan Sun Arena, so I made a conscious decision to leave my notebook home and actually enjoy a concert for a change without keeping a set list and taking notes. It would have been frustrating trying to keep that set list, because The Who played a good chunk of songs from its upcoming album, as you can see from the set list below plucked off the Internet.
If the live performances are any indication, the new album should be a good one.
My two friends, who both have seen The Who many times, weren’t as impressed with the show as I was and, while waiting for our train, compared it with past concerts.
But for me, the night was special from the start. I had never been to a Who concert and it was just about the last of the must-see concerts for me. I had seen The Stones, Clapton, McCartney, Ringo, Pnk Floyd, Neil Young, etc., but, for whatever reason, never The Who.
I could have caught a show on the last tour, but it didn’t feel right – to me, anyway – for The Who to be touring so soon after John Entwhistle’s death.
Well, now The Who is checked off my unwritten list of concerts I must attend and if you get a chance to see them, my advice is go. It’s a great event and you’ll be glad you did.
I can’t wait to see the band again at the Mohegan Sun Arena, only this time, I’ll have the advantage of hearing the new album before I see the band playing it live.

The set list
I Can’t Explain, The Seeker, Anyway Anyhow Anywhere, Fragments, Who Are You, Behind Blue Eyes, Real Good Looking Boy, Sound Round, Pick Up The Peace, Endless Wire, We Got A Hit, They Made My Dream Come True, Mirror Door, Baba O’Riley, Eminence Front, Man In A Purple Dress, Mike Post Theme, You Better You Bet, My Generation, Cry If You Want, Won’t Get Fooled Again, Pinball Wizard. Amazing Journey, Sparks, See Me Feel Me, Tea And Theater

When planning a trip to my favorite city, Baltimore, I happened to find out about an event I might want to check out for the Friday night after my beloved Orioles left town – The Baltimore Irish Festival.
It was the first time the festival was held at its new location, Canton Watefront Park, and when they say Waterfront, they mean it. The backstage area was no more than 15 feet from Baltimore Harbor.
The draw for me was Black 47′s headlining appearance, as I have long been a fan of the band and have gotten to know singer Larry Kirwan somewhat over the years I have been covering music for the Connecticut Post.
It was Kirwan that told me about Baltimore’s mayor, Martin O’Malley, and how he’s an accomplished musician with his Irish rock band, O’Malley’s March.
Friday was a rainy day in Baltimore, but, of course, the luck of the Irish held as the showers ended just before the start of the festivities. I arrived at the park, which is apparently new because none of the locals I asked had even heard of it.
I heard the band from a block away and the first person I happen to lay my eyes on was Kirwan, who was enjoying a Smithwick’s as he schmoozed with a fan. He told me that the band on stage was O’Malley’s March and the mayor was easy to pick out as he still had his suit on after a busy day of campaigning for governor of Maryland.
The band was surprisingly good, especially when you consider that it hasn’t been doing many concerts because of the campaign.
Through Kirwan, I met the mayor after his performance and he is an impressive younger man with a sincerity that can’t be faked. He’s obviously passionate about the city and I have no doubt that he’ll bring that passion to the governor’s office if elected.
My only problem with O’Malley is his refusal to act on the major problem plaguing Baltimore. Unfortunately, there is nothing he can do to stop the tide of obnoxious Yankes and Red Sox fans from entering Oriole Park at Camden Yard.
Don’t I suffer enough living in Fairfield County, surrounded by these people? Do I have to see and hear them when I’m at a home game?
I think I’ll play it safe next year. I’ll go back to Camden Yard when the Royals or Mariners are in town.

I didn’t really know what to expect when I arrived at the Mohegan Sun Arena Monday night for the Shakira concert. I had heard the song “Hips Don’t Lie” – who hasn’t – but other than that, not much by the Colombian sensation.
I sort of figured I would witness another pop spectacle, where style triumphs over substance, but I was in for a very pleasant surprise.
This girls rocks.
This was a full-blown rock concert with a killer band and just the right mix of upbeat numbers and ballads to satisfy the festive crowd.
Even though I didn’t understand the majority of her lyrics – sung in Spanish – I couldn’t help but get caught up in the festivities as her adoring crowd treated her as their queen, which is what she is. She’s the female equivalent of The King, Elvis Presley. Good looking, energetic and extremely talented. And like Elvis the Pelvis, Shakira moves in ways that most people can’t.
I would get even more caught up in the proceedings when Shakira sang in English – songs such as “Don’t Bother,” “Underneath Your Clothes” and, of course, “Hips Don’t Lie.”
As a male of the species, I also must confess that Shakira is by far the sexiest performer I have ever witnessed, and it didn’t hurt that she performed, for the most part, in very low-riding outfits that showed off her incredible abs and her famous hips. The crowd oohed with every hip shake and aahed with every suggestive grind.
The crowd was nearly as entertaining as what was happening on stage. It had the feel of a South American soccer game as people came with the flags of their nations and T-shirts emblazoned with the names of their home countries. Naturally, there was an abundance of blue and yellow Colombia apparel.
Unlike Mariah Carey’s recent show at the Mohegan Sun Arena, which saw her on stage for just 60 of the concert’s 75 minutes, Shakira was definitely worth the money as she packed 17 songs into her 100-minute performance. She kept the costume changes to a minimum, about four, and even those amounted to just brief pauses in the action.
If Monday night had one disappointment, it would have to be the opening act, Wyclef Jean. He came on stage after DJ Leon played his music for 10 minutes as a sort of introduction to the crowd. If Wyclef’s in the building and has his band with him, why didn’t he just come out and perform these songs?
Then he performs a good, if unnecessary, cover of Bob Marley’s “No Woman No Cry” before bringing out his sister, Melky, to overdo a song, as in making each syllable last forever.
Soon, Wyclef was going through the rap concert cliches (“Everybody say ‘Hey’ everybody say ‘Oh’” and “How many [insert ethnicity here] do we have in the house?”) I think he hit on every country in South America.
His talk of leaving the immigrants alone was amusing when he cited Puerto Ricans, who, if memory serves, are from a U.S. commonwealth.
Very disappointing, even if he atoned for it somewhat with Shakira’s “Hips Don’t Lie” in the encore, handling his parts from their hit collaboration.