Green 17 Tour
Flogging Molly, The Reverend Payton's Big Damn Band, The Cherry Cokes
March 16, 2008
Marquee Theatre, Tempe, Arizona
It is not St. Patrick's Day. It is, however, the day before, but it could be Halloween for all the fans lined up outside the Marquee Theatre could care. These fans make up Flogging Molly's surprisingly large Arizona fan base. Yes - Flogging Molly, an Irish punk band from Los Angeles, has their biggest fan base in Arizona. This is, perhaps, debatable, but hard to refute, when one considers that this is Flogging Molly's fifth straight year celebrating Green Day in Arizona, and that the line to get in to the sold-out show ends somewhere under the bridge. (For those of you unfamiliar with the area, that is one very long line.)
The people in this line vary, from clearly hardcore fans (a girl at the front of the line already has a Green 17 Tour shirt) to people just happy to be there (I saw at least two guys in Dropkick Murphys shirts, and another draped with a Scottish flag). At the moment, we all have two things in common: we are all cold, and we all want to get inside.
Once past the mob around the merchandise tables, we are greeted with a Jolly Roger flag, bearing the main act's name - with the Cherry Cokes' tiny banner on top of it.
It's a long wait before the Cherry Cokes take the stage. The crowd is impatient, but this work sto the Cokes' advantage. First, it helped us gloss over the fact that the stage was now occupied by six young Japanese musicians who burst into a whirl of punk-folk very fitting as Flogging Molly's opening act, and second, it caused the mosh pits to break out almost immediately. The Cherry Cokes were unusual, yes, especially in their choice of instruments (saxophone, banjo, accordion, mandolin, and others), but the crowd was ready for them, and their dynamic performance put us in the mood for Flogging Molly.
Our excitement, however, was interrupted.
The Reverend Payton's Big Damn band is not as advertised: big. Their sound, however, is surprisingly big - there are only three members. The Reverend contributes to their big sound the most, playing his slide guitar like he, too, sold his soul at a crossroads. His wife, Washboard Breezy, plays her namesake instrument with her eyes open wide, snarling as if possessed, while the Rev's little brother, Jayme, pounds the skins in the back. Whether from exhaustion or confusion, there was a definite lull in the crowd's excitement level, but the Reverend taught us to love him and his Band. He got the audience involved by using call-and-response during songs like "Two Bottles of Wine" (in which the Band was joined by Matt Hensley and Bob Schmidt of Flogging Molly) and told us the story behind "Your Cousin's On 'COPS'" (which is pretty self-explanatory). Before "Mama's Fried Potatoes," even challenged us to declare that our mothers' own potatoes couldn't be better the one his own mother makes ("If they're so good," he said, "how 'come she ain't got a song about them?"). By the end of their set, even the girl next to me who had been texting her friend about how much the Band sucked was jumping up and down and screaming for them.
Both bands were probably the best opening acts I've ever seen. They were not, as worded by Ricky Wilson of Kaiser Chiefs, "the soundtrack to buying beer." Both brought memorable sounds and high-energy performances and probably earned a few extra dollars at the merch table afterwards. I just would have put the Band first on the bill.
As for the big guys...
Frontman Dave King was essentially the show. With the opening acts, I watched every member of the band - even all six of the Cokes. As exciting and danceable as Flogging Molly's records are, it's surprising how little the band moves. I suppose I'm being a bit unfair. They sounded fantastic, and they were obviously enjoying themselves - "This is probably the best Sunday this Catholic's ever had," King quipped in between mouthfuls of Guinness. However, I really expected more jumping around and guitar (or banjo) slinging. I blame most of this on fiddle and flute player Bridget Regan. With her long dark hair obscuring half of her face, she appears to be the real-life counterpart of Violet from The Incredibles, but with fast fingers instead of the power of invisibility. (Perhaps it is unfair of me to criticise her so, but being a violinist myself, I'm fairly biased.) Listening to her parts at home, I'm always inspired to dance around or even learn to play them, and I expected a performance to accompany it.
One highlight was the performance of "Within A Mile Of Home," when all the bands crowded on stage to sing the "la la"'s that end the song. Another was when King took the stage by himself to perform the beginning of "Black Friday Rule," and it was clear then that he was the true owner of the stage. The rest of Flogging Molly eventually joined him to finish the song, and bid us farewell with another praise to pirates, "Salty Dog."
They sound great live, and they're definitely not the deadest band I've seen on stage, but much of the energy in the venue came from the fans. Crowd response can make or break a gig, and in this case, the crowd definitely made the most of it. King's disses on Oliver Cromwell and praises of his homeland stirred all the Irish blood in the room, and his howls into the microphone set it boiling. But take away the adoring fans and you're left with a bit less.
I check my phone as I enter the lobby - it's now two minutes past midnight. It's officially St. Patrick's Day - and that's just how it should be.
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