Still (Irish) Kickin'

Five years ago, I sat down to the unenviable task of writing a eulogy for a band that had been a big part of my life for close to twenty years. As someone with ZERO musical ability (seriously, I can’t even play the radio!) I considered myself extremely fortunate to have spent so much time in the company of such talented musicians, and there I was, trying to sum up their career while coping with them calling it quits. I understood their reasoning, but was still sad to think The Highland Rovers were playing their last show.

At the time, I tried consoling myself with old adages like All good things must come to an end and Dont be sad that it’s over, be glad that it happened. But I was sad, from the bottom of my heart to the soles of my feet. Only my liver was heaving a huge sigh of relief!

I was sad that they wouldn’t be around to teach my then 5-year old son to dance to The Unicorn Song, or even how to swear, as many a young one has learned to shout “BULLSHIT” whenever they hear, “And his fate is still unlearned.”  And god help those who ask who Alice is!

My son didn’t know what he was missing, but I did. And it truly was a tough time as my friends and fellow fans talked about who could take their place. Answer: No one! And Irish bars in the area began laying off staff while Jameson distributors had to take on second jobs. 

And by sad time, I mean about two weeks, as the band changed their minds before playing the encore on their “final” show!  The Boys (and Girl!) were back, and all was right with the world...well, except for that Trump guy.

And in the five years that followed, a beautiful thing happened: we became friends. Sure, they were always friendly to me...well, except for the TWO times they broke my leg! More on that later. But until recently, I was just a fan and they were the band. Now, I’m doing yoga with Colleen, trading coats with Jimmy, exchanging gifts with Mike in Cape Cod, getting shout outs from Tommy, and commiserating with Al on facebook.  I even get to hang with their lovely wives and families. It’s like Groupie Heaven! 

And not only that, my son (now 10) has sang on stage with them, knows all the words to every song, and has made three trips to Cape Cod’s Irish Village to see them play.  The band now spans generations! Someday he’ll be telling his friends about his first show, they way I’m about to tell you mine:

I first saw the Highland Rovers before they even had a name. I’m not sure if it was their very first show, but they were definitely soliciting the audience at the brand new Gaelic Club for suggestions.  I admit, at the time I was more impressed with the discounted drink prices and incredible interior of the club, and frankly did not pay the band that much attention. But I was there! As were many others, who I would soon become quite familiar with in the coming years as they followed the band on their tipsy travels throughout the state…and beyond.

The first time the band got MY attention was with a funny sing-a-long to the tune of Do-Re-Mi… only it was “Dough, is what we pay for beer. Ray, the guy who pours the beer. Me, the guy who drinks the beer. Fa’, the distance to the bar. So, I think I’ll have a beer. La, la la la la la laaa! T, tanks I’ll have a beer. And that brings us back to Do, oh, oh oh…” What can I say? I was young and fresh out of college and used to playing drinking games, and here were a trio of guys who were basically a living, breathing drinking game. What wasn’t to like?

But I soon learned to appreciate them for their true talents. Whether it was spot-on renditions of Irish classics, truly original originals, or inspired covers of modern hits, the boys had talent. And their hilarious interplay between songs was worth the price of admission alone. They could sing. They could play. They could make you laugh. And they could drink! Again, I ask you, what wasn’t to like?

And I was not alone. The size of the crowds continued to grow with each passing show. And as word of the boys’ charms spread, the look of the crowd changed as well. No longer was it just wool wrapped, kilt wearing, tam sporting Irishmen and women, there were other people there too. Hippies and yuppies and rockers and jocks. It was like the Breakfast Club. Make that the Irish Breakfast Club, minus the black pudding!  And speaking of breakfast, the Rovers also introduced a new generation to the glorious, but overlooked, “classic” by the Fabulous Farquahr, “My Eggs Don’t Taste the Same Without You.”

I also did my part to introduce new people to the band. While it was not always easy convincing my friends to give up a chance to see established (and, let’s be honest, cooler!) acts like Simple Jim, Deep Banana Blackout, or Gargantua Soul, in order to check out those “Irish guys in vests” - but once they did, they were hooked. 

Unfortunately, no band is devoid of drama, and The Rovers had their “Behind the Music” moment when the trio became a duo (before remerging as a quintet, and ultimately a sextet!) But the changes added new life to the band and for whatever reason, seemed to push them to reach for new heights, both creatively and professionally. I wasn’t privy to the conversations, but imagine that the break-up was sort of a wake up call, where they realized how quickly things can change and that they needed to make the most of the situation. And did they ever!

As the years passed, the boys expanded their ever-growing fan base and journeyed further away from their home base.  And while we’re talking about bases, who can forget their gig at Shea Stadium? Or their nationally televised appearance on FOX? Not to mention their Marshall Tucker period, where founding member, Doug Gray, served as mentor and head cheerleader, inviting the Rovers to open for, and join, his band on stage.  But what impressed ME the most were their St. Patrick’s Day gigs, where they would play a full 3-hour set somewhere in Connecticut, complete with shots…and more shots, then jump on a bus and play another full set up in Boston!

On a more personal note, the band was somewhat responsible for the completion of my first novel, Alchemy. I had an idea for a story, and wrote the first chapter, back in the early 90’s, but it did nothing but collect dust until I tore my Achilles tendon dancing at a Highland Rovers show in 2004. Laid up for several months, and with nothing better to do with my time, I dug out the old manuscript and started typing away. A few years later, I was thrilled to be able to present them each with a copy of the finished book. 

Equally thrilling was kissing my wife, Sarah, for the first time…which, wait for it, was at a Highland Rover’s St. Paddy’s show at O’Neill’s! Technically she wasn’t my wife at the time, but she soon would be (coincidentally right around the time the band released a song called Sara, which, even though it was about the birth of a band member’s daughter, and missing an H, applied to my new-found love as well: “Sara, you’re the answer to the questions my heart has been asking…”

And then there was the wedding of my childhood friend, the VERY Irish Mary Callahan, who married the even MORE Irish Jimmy Kelleher, and naturally they hired the Rovers to play their reception.  The highlight of the evening, and one of my favorite memories ever, was when they played “Goodbye, Mary” – an original song about a guy who finds out a lost love is getting married, which while having no connection to the bride, was both funny and apropos as it sent them on their merry way with the refrain, “I wish you all the happiness in the world.”

And I want to wish The Highland Rovers all the continued happiness in the world as they roll into their 25th year as a band.  You guys (and gal) have provided me, and thousands of others, with wonderful music and memories for the past quarter century, and we owe you (and your patient families)  a debt of gratitude for continuing to share your gifts with us.

So let me end by saying thank you. Thank you all. Thank you, Tommy and Jimmy and Billy. Thank you, Al and Jeff and Michael. Thank you, Colleen and Turk and the Madden Group. Thank you to the Muscular Bongo Guy who I sort of forgot about! Thank you, friends and fans and families.  Thank you for the music, the mayhem, and the memories. And thanks again for snapping my fucking tendon, you bastards!!!!

I signed off my original eulogy with an apt line from The Parting Glass, but am so happy to end this one on a more upbeat note with a line from a Rover's original: "And so, it's the end of our show, but it's not the end, we'll meet again. When you're lost and alone, may God lead you home, all roads lead to here..."

The shirt says it all: LUCKY!

*Footnote (ha ha): At last year’s Irish Village show, I tore another muscle, in the same damn leg, dancing during the first set of the first show. It was nowhere as debilitating as a torn achilles, but still freaking hurt!