DRUNKEN LULLABIES

I originally turned in a really lame review of Drunken Lullabies, where I made some bullshit comparison of Flogging Molly's sound to an army of enormous tanks manned by some of literature's greatest pen-wielding heroes. Fuck that. It's 12:30 at night. I'm proofreading all the content for our website before we set it loose upon you kids, and the last song on the album kicks in: "The Son Never Shines on Closed Doors". Seriously, if I had tear ducts, I'd be crying my Irish-looking non-Irish eyes out. It's gotta' be the saddest fucking thing I've ever heard. Sadder than that song on their last album, where the singer sings about his deceased father. The accordion gives it this whole vibe where it sounds like something you'd hear emanating from the weathered, wooden walls of an old Irish pub, tucked away on some cobblestoned street in a Kerouac-ian part of our world. I pulled out the cd booklet, and read the lyrics. Jesus. I gotta hand it to these kids: they write some of the most stirring tunes I've ever heard. One minute they're belting you in the face with some drum-pummeling Irish punk rock, and the next they've got every Guinness-guzzling bruiser in the joint sobbing like a room full of newborns. Drop your last buck and get the new album, Drunken Lullabies, from sideonedummy.com or an independently-owned record store near you. Hell, bend elbows with the band when they hit the Newport on Friday, April 26, with The Slackers and Avoid One Thing.