Celtschmerz

Gearing up for Irish Fest, are ya, laddie? I can’t really say that I am, even though I do like Irish music more than most people deem appropriate. In fact, the indie hipster snobs I work with here — Charles Ferruzza especially, geez — look down at my every “whack fol!” I can’t help it if I had a love affair with Liam Clancy’s Irish Troubadour all through my horrible sophomore year of college. (Actually, that was a good year, but it’s not the kind of music you listen to in a good year — but whatever, I’m fucked in the head.) Bob Dylan likes Liam Clancy. Or once said something really good about him.

Unfortunately, I don’t have much good to say about the Celtic d�rc with the Irish flag guitar last night at the Gaf. Not everyone has to be Shane McGowan, but Irish music is plagued with boring singers. Man, guitar, Irish songs, CD…you gotta have a little more than that. The guy needs to be captivating, for one, like our own Eddie Delahunt, or rockin’ like the Kelihans. In any case, a personality is nice, especially if you’re going to sell songs about girls a-sewing and whatnot. Gaffers seemed to be enjoying the guy, though, especially the men who were too old to be wearing baseball caps in a restaurant.

But I guess you have to put up with a bit of lameness when most of your fellow fans happen to be rich and tasteless Brooksiders (oooh). I went to the Gaf last night, by the way, because I heard Hothouse Flowers would play a pre-Irish Fest show there. Didn’t happen — was only a rumor. In festival news, Luka Bloom has a sore throat and won’t be able to play, so Hothouse is stepping into his slot. That’s really kind of a bummer, too, because even though you (yes, YOU) haven’t heard of Luka, he’s really good, as proven by his new record, Innocence.

So, I wish you all a fun time at Crown Center this weekend. I’m really just not in the mood for being around a bunch of Irish fans and their kids. I’m acquainted with the organizer, a really cool guy named Dan Regan, so I may call him and beg him to let me crash one of the afterparties, so I can be around actual Irish people. They get me hot.

Speaking of which, I know I’ll be able to catch a good report of the whole thing from my pal Liam, who has a great fuckin’ Irish blog and drinks 56 cups of tea a day.

If you’re strapped for a plan this weekend, read the Pitch or visit Sad Dog. For hip-hop, go to HipHopKC.

Don’t drive drunk, especially if you’re the Bookmobile driver.