Flogging Molly interview

November 2004

‘THEY PLAYED WITH SUCH PASSION THAT THEY JUST BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF MOLLYS’
Since the days of playing in a small Los Angeles bar, Flogging Molly have seen members leave, missed their children growing up and endured long American and European tours. Now, after eight years, they feel they’re closing on in fame.

“This is like deja-vu. I just answered this question two minutes ago”, bassist Nathan Maxwell jokes, as I repeat my opening questions having finally realised my microphone was off. Nathan, Dennis Casey, Matt Hensley, and Rob Schmidt and I burst into a chorus of laughter. As we restart the interview, it’s not just the opening questions that have a distinct echo of the past. Colchester Arts Centre, the venue for tonight’s gig, feels to the seven much like Molly Malone’s, the bar where it all began. “It’s cool to come and touch base with here. Colchester’s a pretty old-school town and we’ll rock old-school tonight”, Maxwell continues. “We’ve never played here before and it feels fucking great to be here!”, Hensley says, as he shuts a laptop perched on his lap.

Most of the eight hundred or so here for tonight’s gig are from the Sixth Form College, a towering building that you can’t fail to notice. The Roman walls, now in scattered pieces like a lost treasure, are still standing, the college sat just behind them. For tonight, the generals in town are the Californians. “I didn’t know the college was right by here”, lead guitarist Casey says, “maybe we can make some Molly’s army converts!” Most of the college kids admit they’re here because of the support, The Streetdogs. Before the gig, the band tell me Kings’ outfit “will take over the Bosstones’ punk crown, no doubt”.

Having been greeted by their tour manager Joe, the Los Angeles seven are slumped backstage on a large, but rather worn, red couch in a makeshift kitchen. A small fruit bowl sits on the counter at the back of a room. It’s still largely untouched except for an apple which Hensley now sits eating. As I look around for signs of the customary cans of Guinness associated with the band, they’re nowhere to be seen. Instead, they’re replaced with a few crates of water. “Taking a break from the hard stuff, Dave?” I somehow manage to yell amongst the deafening noise of drums and guitars. “They’re on the corner of the stage, I drink them during our sets. Gives you that extra bit of energy”, he replies.

Within a mile of home? Right now, it feels more like an eternity probably. A long American tour, finished less than a week ago, is only now beginning to wear off. “We’re pretty jetlagged, and I didn’t even unpack my stuff until the night before leaving for England” Maxwell says. Most of the band have young children, and Casey proudly announces to me that “I found out a few days ago I’m going to be a dad!” Perhaps for now, home feels like an eternity away. “I really wanted to take my daughter trick or treating”, Schmidt says, “but we left on Halloween, it sucked”.

Drummer George Schwindt though reminds them of the harsh reality they face. “Not to sound arrogant”, he says, “but we’re one of the hardest working bands out there. We can be on the road for four and five months, with a few weeks to recover. It’s tough going but if we want to make it, you have to make sacrifices”.

The band’s very name makes you think of a brutal lashing dished not only to their fans, but themselves. Maxwell merely reiterates the thought when he explains “when the band formed in 1996, it was just a few local guys trying to make some money that a few hundred like myself would go and see. But they played with such passion that they just beat the shit out of Mollys’. By the end of the shows, everyone was buzzing, so Flogging Molly was a pretty appropriate choice”.

The tour will last well into December, visiting Britain, Sweden and Germany. It’s a hectic three-week schedule with no days off, as they’ve quickly learnt. “We’re off to Folkestone straight away to go to Holland after tonight’s gig”, Schmidt says, “so I’ll probably read”. After visiting Holland for a few days, the band returns for a five-show tour of England. And when you’re in England, Hensley says, there’s only one thing you can do: eat a mass of curry. “We come back here for six days straight, and I can guarantee Nath and I will eat six days of curry”. With that, the conversation turns to yet more mentions of food. Or rather, a random series of cravings. “English fish and chips- you can’t go wrong there!” Casey laughs, as Schmidt pleads to me to take the band to an old place for “haddock and a mountain of mushy peas!”

English exports are more than fish and chips though. With King being born and raised a Dubliner and even with the others, they admit Britain was a huge influence on them. “The two-tone era of ska, and bands like The Beatles, The Stones, The Clash…I admire them a lot. A lot of Californians saw it as something totally new and radical, and I guess that’s what we’re trying to do- take elements of the old, and take it apart”.

It might have sold more than one hundred and fifty thousand copies on its first day of release, but ‘Within a Mile of Home’ hasn’t been without its critics. While most praised the band for giving a more rounded and traditional sound, one review called it “too big an attempt to visit its roots. Schwindt says the criticism is noted. “We play in Dublin a lot, but it’s the only place in Ireland we’re followed. I guess some people think Irish music should be left in its old form”. Maxwell though remains upbeat. “At the end of the day”, he says “we just want to play music. Wherever there’s a microphone, we’ll play”.

The line-up’s changed considerably over the years. Maxwell didn’t join the band until 2003. Only King, Bridget Regan and Schwindt have survived over the eight years. Now though, King feels he’s got the winning formula. “We’ve had a few changes over the years, but it happens. We don’t see much of our families, and some people find that too tough”. When you ask Maxwell, you can tell it’s hard going. “We all have young kids, and we’re missing a big part of their lives. But if you want to be successful, you’ve got to put your feelings aside”. Hensley nods in agreement. “But it helps that we’re all so close. The support we give each other’s a huge strength of the band”.

Just as the family of Flogging Molly has grown in strength, their following continues to gain in number. Maxwells’ eyes light up when he remembers the recent show in Seattle. “It’s great to see the cross-generations at shows. Mums are raising their kids on Flogging Molly, and passing it on to their sons and daughters. At the show there was an old lady, must have been about sixty. She got straight in the pit and was getting battered, but just kept getting up. She lasted like, five songs, and was loving every minute of it!” Judging by the number of people at America’s Warped Tour shows, held every August by skating giants Vans, she’s not the only one. “We had about fifty thousand at those shows”, Schmidt says. “I’d say we had a good ten or so thousand at least of that come see us on our stage”.

A far cry from tonight, then. The Arts Centre, an old church, has its stained glass windows still there, shining through and giving a charismatic blue glow over the stage. The place is so small that there’s barely room for the bar, which serves only a handful of drinks, mainly local ales. The barrier’s so thin it almost hugs the stage, and it’s largely down to the three bouncers to control any signs of trouble. During the support, a few manage to stage-dive, collapsing in a drunken heap somewhere between the mass and a spilt beer. Maybe too close for some? “Well, we all have our preferences on who we play to”, says Maxwell. “I want to play to as many as possible, so our open-air shows are great”. Hensley puts down the apple he’s been sat eating and shakes his head. “Nah, you’ve got to have the intimacy of a tight crowd. It’s great to play to big crowds, but we’re a pub band and I like to have the crowd right in my face. Up on a festival stage, it’s harder to project your energy across”.

Schwindt, the mellow drummer reminds the band that, despite their success, the tours haven’t all been memorable. “We played at Gaelic Fest in Boston with Dropkick Murphys. It’s a nice atmosphere and all, but hardly anyone showed up. It was a huge disappointment”.

Touring with one of the biggest punk bands in America though can’t be too bad, right? “The Murphys are cool guys”, Maxwell says “Very easy-going and hilarious to hang out with”. Comparisons have been made between the two, with both having a heavy rock influence with traditional Irish thrown in. But would Flogging Molly rather be known for originality? “I think our stuff is unique, but if we’re getting compared to them”, Maxwell says, “I’m not going to complain. They’ve set the standards of Irish punk for years, so if we can get anywhere near their recognition, I’ll be happy”. There’s one line they certainly won’t be going down. “What the fuck’s going on with European stuff right now?” Casey asks. “It’s appalling”, Hensley says, “what the hell are the Cheeky Girls about?”

Any doubts of what Flogging Molly is ‘about’ now are soon removed through a blistering opening night. The 2-hour set, a mixture of old classics like ‘selfish man’ are combined with helpings from ‘Within a Mile of Home’. Towards the end, there’s chaos in the moshpit, as more people fall victim to too much drinking and a soaking sweat-stained floor. It seems the jet-lagged crew aren’t the first to fall flat on the decks tonight.