Irish eyes

Black 47's Larry Kirwan, the 'BRU Rock Hunt, RIPO, and more

by Michael Caito

Black 47

Black 47 got thrown out of every New York City club they played in for months and months because they weren't traditional enough, finally settling in a seedy dive where the housepets were all cucarachas. They play there still, though the place is permanently jammed these days.

And several years later, the Irish band have transcended early comparisons as a slightly more-kempt version of the Pogues with several increasingly snappy releases, the last of which, Green Suede Shoes, recounted a close encounter with their collective Maker on Route 95 after a Providence show.

Author/singer/playwright/dad Larry Kirwan caught us up last week from New York City, where the band was prepping for their first live recording, as Kirwan kept an eye on rehearsals for his upcoming play going up in the Synchronicity Space of SoHo.

Q: Are you at all nervous about the new play?

A: When you're a playwright you can't be anal because of the process. You write it, hand it over to a director and try to help as much as you can. But in the long run it's the actors and their thing at that point. I've been through it before.

Q: How many have been produced?

A: Five . . . and the book . . . seven. And I have an eighth being workshopped right now. Been 'round the roses a few times now. [The Poetry of Stone] is intimate because it's about my growing up. I had a weird growing up process in that I was raised by an old grandfather and an uncle. Three generations of us, and then this housekeeper came into the house and three of us fell in love with her. I always write from autobiography and then change it, but some of it is exactly word for word what happened, so sometimes you react to actors saying it and it's a shock that brings you back to that moment.

Q: Is that frightening?

A: Nah, not frightening but it does put you in touch with parts of yourself that you'd forgotten about. It can be wrenching. It's deep, and that's good, [and] brings back memories really clearly, often not exactly the way you'd remember them. You'll feel the moment you were there for that period of time, which is different than memory. Memory usually stops.

Q: And is very selective. On "Green Suede Shoes" Black 47 chronicle a pileup near here.

A: We'd been playing in Providence at the Strand. Great gig. We'd just made Old Lyme and we hit snow and black ice. Went over a coupla times. Scary. I was sore for six months after, but nothing really broke. I can only imagine what a broken rib is like. I couldn't breathe right onstage for a long time. Just incredibly lucky we didn't go out through the window. All the windows were blown out. We'd taken these two cases of Guinness. The driver wasn't drinking or anything -- our drivers never drink -- but we were havin' a few on the way down. Cases of beer all went out through the windows, and when the troopers arrived the Guinness in the cans had exploded from being thrown around so much. Turns out the trooper was a fan of the band.

Q: Your children's record, Keltic Kids (out St. Patrick's Day). Did you try it out on your two?

A: I did most of it at home, so they were very aware of it. They're a part of it. I did it by looking through their eyes, seeing what they thought about growin' up and what they thought that means. My oldest is into pirates, and the second song's about the two of them fighting. On "Daddy's a Rock and Roller," I tried to see what kids thought of their parents who live in that world.

Q: In the last verse the kids are in a band. Would you encourage or discourage that?

A: I wouldn't do it either way, I'd let them do what they wanted to do. I'm not sure I would encourage kids to go into music . . . knowing music means what it did to me when Iwas getting into it, when [now] it's much more commercial. When I started it was at a cutting edge part of society, coming out of the '60s. It meant a lot more, and I don't think music really means that socially. Not that there wasn't commercialism then, too, but there was an alternative form at that point.

Q: Can the Internet subvert commercialism in music?

A: Yes. It's wonderful for bands not into commercial mainstream, underground bands that become their own thing through the Internet. At the moment, the Internet is so democratic. You can go to the Black 47 site as fast as you can go to BMG's site. It's all in what you choose to do. For bands like us and young bands who don't want to go through the whole record company rigmarole, it's definitely liberating, and hopefully will continue to be.

Q: But the two-edged blade means they're sitting home surfing instead of going out. Especially kids, so easily addicted.

A: There is that danger. I was into science fiction growing up, and this was all predicted then, in that your own house became the place you reached out to the world from, and everything went back to your house. It's become that way for people, but I think it's inevitable. Hopefully the infusion of interest from the Internet will get them out of the house. We're trying to help by making our shows all-ages.

Q: Hey, you like Lovecraft?

A: I always had this feeling going through Providence that this is Lovecraft's town, and I always mention him from the stage. People are always lookin' at me like, "What is he talking about?"

Q: Any upcoming Black 47 records?

We're doin' a live one on Tuesday (St. Patrick's Day) and hopefully another one for November.

Black 47 headline the First Annual Guinness Irish Music Festival on Saturday at Bootleggers with Pendragon, Paddy Keenan, Skip Healy, Tony Cuffe, Eric M. Armour and Nivek.

STARS & BARS. Poll time is here, same format: nominations through editorial fiat in Round One, write-ins perused closely as fans, the only ones that ever really matter after all, now select your faves. Of course I had input in the nominations (duh), but if you're heated don't be killing the messenger.

Caught each tune in Rounds Iand II of the reconstituted WBRU Rock Hunt. Wednesday opened with a former winner (Tom Kutcher, ex-Jungle Dogs) fronting the Indestructibles, and though naysayers would maybe dredge T.K. for the careerism of the swerve towards ska, he went all the way back to the 2-Tone era, with dual 'bones and occasionally two saxes (Kutcher grabbing bari). Pretty happening. Turning Blue went straight for the power-pop carotid, twin Gibs and all, and though they didn't do anything wrong they didn't do anything, uhhh, end of sentence. The Agents have matured and streamlined their sound, and a trumpet solo from atop the Met Café bar was very well done. Arrangement improvement has helped tons. More ska.

Thursday's openers Kid Jupiter were slick popsters, with a guitarist/singer who opened up with a coupla keyboard prances destined to draw analogies to They Might Be Giants. Peppy, gleaming quirkiness, adequate hooks, catchy boy/girl vox and a dearth of angst. DJ scratching was fine, and they benefited from being the only band Thursday with even a partial soundcheck. Lightweight, good-natured fun. Ether were very loud (as usual) and definitely not ethereal. The quartet get giant points for the way they rev songs up one gear at a time. Done well it's very exciting, and on one in particular, a Wedding-Present-esque diamond about three from the end, they floored it then stamped on it, emphatically reinserting Rock into the Rock Hunt. Killah. 'Twas the first time I got to hear the Rebecca Hart Project live and, like openers Kid Jupiter, they were smooth, throwing an extremely relaxed vibe towards the audience. The band seemed jazzier than I remember their debut self-titled CD being, though one thing was just as apparent: Hart's a memorable singer. Thoughts crossing my mind during their well-paced set: all their equipment seemed new and expensive. I've driven cars with less metal than that kit. They're accomplished players, with an off-handed ability to swing that cannot be faked. So on one hand you have the best band of the six playing on the finest equipment, but the mac 'n' cheese'-eatin' critter in me wondered about other semifinalists who may not be able to afford drumsticks. A strong night with three interesting bands capable of going far on ability and emotion, which I can't say for Round I. Next week, six mo', ending with tonight (3.19) and Round IV of the semis at the Century.

The Philharmonic delivered a devastating Bartok viola concerto to open Saturday's program. Devastating. But poignant, too, given the performance was dedicated to the memory of recently-deceased RIPOviolist Alan Rosenberg. Chilean soloist Roberto Diaz (of the renowned Philly-delphia Orchestra) swooped through a closing avalanche of an Allegro vivace, which cooked RIPO's yawning take on Ravel later on. Of the three Philharmonic premieres Saturday, the most light-hearted was obviously the middle Suite by Kodaly, gleaned from the purported exploits of a Baron von Munchausen-like space cowboy from Hungarian folklore. The orchestra caught the perfect fantastical Little John mood of his Hary Janos Suite, but unfortunately it made their plodville "Bolero" anticlimactic. Ravel was right:it contains no music, and certainly none of the craft and beauty of his piano-centric works. It's just a white-knuckle flight for the snare. Hungary two, France nil, ears open for a guaranteed amazing performance by mezzo-soprano Frederica von Stade in a short while at Vets.

While we're talking Arkestras, Occupy the Castle Trivia: the last two LaSalle Academy champion hoop squads featured starters raised near and who practiced in the Cranston Street Armory. Name them, name their grade school and I'm buying the pie at Paulie's. Extra credit: name the LaSalle state JV champs' point guard from the same school. Tiebreaker:how many rims in the Armory?

This just in: fund-raiser at the Ocean Mist on Monday run by the URI Jazz Department features the estimable Either/Orchestra, Mike Tanaka and Rory MacLeod with guest Rich Lataille, the WRIU All-Stars, Tish Adams and Willie Myette and bluesman Robert Lee Teague.