by MacRua Tue Nov 11, 2008 9:30 pm
Reflections on famous song, popular versions and much less famous (and popular) prototype for the main character:
CRITICAL MASS : Old Irish outlaw ballad turns up in oddest places by PHILIP MARTIN
Arkansas Democrat Gasette
November 11, 2008Full URL Every Thursday morning I spend a couple of hours talking on the radio with Tommy Smith and David Bazzel on KABZ, 103. 7-FM’s Show With No Name. No one has ever really explained what my role is supposed to be on the show, but I feel pretty comfortable talking about pop culture, sports and most of the other topics that come up. As long as they’re willing to put up with me, I’m happy to be included in the mix.
As a result of my affiliation with the show, I’ve become reacquainted with an old Irish folk song that — long ago and far away — I used to strum occasionally. The song is “Whiskey in the Jar.” It’s a very satisfying and not very difficult song to play on an acoustic instrument.
The version they play on The Show With No Name isn’t one of the folky variations recorded by The Dubliners, The Limeliters or Peter, Paul and Mary during the 1960 s folk boom, but a 10-yearold version by Bay-area heavy metal band Metallica, a song which won a Grammy for Best Hard Rock Performance. (KABZ producer Danny-Joe Crofford chose it for its driving tempo when he was looking for a bed over which they could play highlights from pro football games in a segment they call “Highlights in the Jar-o.” )
The Metallica version is a cover of a version of the song recorded by Irish rock band Thin Lizzy in 1972 and released in 1973 by Decca. Frontman Phil Lynott wasn’t happy with the label’s decision to release the track as a single — he didn’t feel it was representative of the band’s sound or image — but it gave Thin Lizzy their first hit, reaching No. 6 on the U. K. charts and securing them their first appearance on the BBC’s Top of the Pops TV show.
The Thin Lizzy and the Metallica versions of the song are pretty nifty numbers, driven by sinewy guitar lines and exceptional vocal performances. But the story they tell is a sketchy one, a first-person account of an Irish outlaw who robs a British official and is subsequently betrayed by a woman named Molly who is either his wife, girlfriend or favorite prostitute.
It works as self-mythology in that it conflates the singer with a romantic outlaw, who — the lyrics imply — has turned to crime to satisfy his ultimately unfaithful lover. The pop versions elide interesting details that aren’t present in earlier versions.
“Whiskey in the Jar,” which dates from the mid-17 th century, is based on the true story of Patrick Flemming, an Irish highwayman who was hanged near Dublin on April 24, 1650. Flemming has been portrayed as a brutal and indiscriminate armed robber who haunted the Bog of Allen in central Ireland and, according to the Newgate Calendar, an 18 th-century encyclopedia of notorious criminals, “attacked almost all who passed [his ] way, of whatever quality; telling them that he was absolute lord of that road.” Among Flemming’s more heinous acts was the kidnapping of a 4-year-old child, whose throat he threatened to cut if a ransom was not delivered within 24 hours. He murdered at least eight people and reportedly sliced off the nose, lips and ears of one nobleman who offered him resistance.
Flemming was captured on at least one occasion but escaped the county jail by climbing up a chimney. He was eventually brought to justice when the landlord of an inn he frequented soaked Flemming’s firearms while he slept and alerted the police.
In most traditional versions of the song, the incident is altered for dramatic effect — instead of the inn’s landlord wetting Flemming’s powder, it’s a woman — usually called Jenny, but Molly in the Metallica / Thin Lizzy version — who wets Flemming’s powder and betrays him to the authorities. For instance, in a version of the ballad called “Patrick Flemming” (alternately known as “Patrick Flemmen he was a Valiant Soldier” ) this verse appears: My whore she proved false and that is the reason Or else Patrick Flemming had never been taken, When I was asleep and knew nothing of the matter Then she loaded my arms with water This detail is preserved in most versions of the song, including the version recorded by The Dubliners and The Pogues, which includes this verse I went up to me chamber all for to take a slumber I dreamt of gold and jewels and sure it was no wonder But Jenny drew me charges and she filled them up with water And sent for Captain Farrell, to be ready for the slaughter.
For whatever reason, the version recorded by Thin Lizzy and Metallica doesn’t even make it clear that the highwayman has been betrayed. In these versions the lyric reads Being drunk and weary I went to Molly’s chamber Taking Molly with me, but I never knew the danger For about six or maybe seven, yeah, in walked Captain Farrell I jumped up, fired my pistols, and I shot him with both barrels It goes without saying that most Metallica fans are probably not going to object to the simplification of the lyrics, even if the elisions cost the narrative some sense (and, in a small way, revise history ). Most people don’t listen to Metallica for the lyrics — or even for the vocals (although singer James Hetfield’s performance of the song is outstanding ).
It’s telling that when Metallica made a video for the song they resisted playing off its long heritage, and instead placed the band in a contemporary house party setting surrounded by comely, misbehaving women. But Metallica has long been known for making videos that have little to do with the lyrical content of their songs, which is less important than the interesting tensions produced by the countervailing instrumental exertions.
Nowhere is this nonchalance about the lyrics — a common trait of musicians that more rock ’n’ roll critics should adopt — more apparent than in the song’s chorus, which is made up of what apparently are nonsense syllables (Musha rain dum a du dum a da / Whack fol the daddyo ) punctuated by a non sequitur (Whiskey in a jar-o ). (My assumption is that the chorus ’ lyric is derived from Irish Gaelic, but I can’t find any support for this theory. Any enlightenment would be welcome. )
It’s interesting how history and legend snake through time and culture, mostly running underground but popping up here and there in unusual manifestations. We don’t always know our sources; I suppose it’s possible (though unlikely ) that Metallica didn’t know anything more about the song than it was a cool Thin Lizzy tune. But it’s totally in the spirit of the magpie tradition of rock ’n’ roll for an American band like Metallica to appropriate an Irish folk tune — and to remake it for their own purposes. (Just as the Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin stole the blues from Mississippi and sold it back to us swaddled in snakeskin trousers. )
The story of Patrick Flemming has been obscured by time. I imagine that even the account of his life given in the Newgate Calendar is inaccurate to a degree; the book was originally put out by the warden of Newgate prison, who published a monthly bulletin of executions carried out as well as the facts of capital cases.
London publishers seized on the popularity of these publications and re-engineered them as a biographical compendium of evil-doers, sold to families as “improving literature.” Parents were supposed to read the stories to their children as cautionary tales. No doubt they presented the blackest and scariest versions of criminals that the fanciful records would admit.
Putting the song to use as the background for NFL highlights seems an ingenious and appropriate use — the violence of the ballad dovetails well with the image of professional football as a rough game. Crofford likes the energy and propulsive force of the music. He picked the Metallica song because he thinks it fits the use he puts it to, and he’s right.
“Whiskey in the Jar” is ubiquitous and buried in our collective psyche, a part of the Old World that we carried over with us (there’s another version of the song called “McCollister,” set in Vermont at the time of the Revolutionary War ). We might not recognize Patrick Flemming, but we see him all the time in movies and on TV, distilled into a type — the dashing, romantic criminal with doom in his blood. He lives, along with Stagger Lee and Jesse James, bad men who’ve infiltrated the American collective consciousness. Whack fol the daddy-o.
E-mail pmartin@arkansasonline. com
Reflections on famous song, popular versions and much less famous (and popular) prototype for the main character:
[size=150]CRITICAL MASS : Old Irish outlaw ballad turns up in oddest places [/size]
[i]by PHILIP MARTIN
Arkansas Democrat Gasette
November 11, 2008[/i]
[url=http://www.nwanews.com/adg/Style/243253/]Full URL[/url]
[indent]Every Thursday morning I spend a couple of hours talking on the radio with Tommy Smith and David Bazzel on KABZ, 103. 7-FM’s Show With No Name. No one has ever really explained what my role is supposed to be on the show, but I feel pretty comfortable talking about pop culture, sports and most of the other topics that come up. As long as they’re willing to put up with me, I’m happy to be included in the mix.
As a result of my affiliation with the show, I’ve become reacquainted with an old Irish folk song that — long ago and far away — I used to strum occasionally. The song is “Whiskey in the Jar.” It’s a very satisfying and not very difficult song to play on an acoustic instrument.
The version they play on The Show With No Name isn’t one of the folky variations recorded by The Dubliners, The Limeliters or Peter, Paul and Mary during the 1960 s folk boom, but a 10-yearold version by Bay-area heavy metal band Metallica, a song which won a Grammy for Best Hard Rock Performance. (KABZ producer Danny-Joe Crofford chose it for its driving tempo when he was looking for a bed over which they could play highlights from pro football games in a segment they call “Highlights in the Jar-o.” )
The Metallica version is a cover of a version of the song recorded by Irish rock band Thin Lizzy in 1972 and released in 1973 by Decca. Frontman Phil Lynott wasn’t happy with the label’s decision to release the track as a single — he didn’t feel it was representative of the band’s sound or image — but it gave Thin Lizzy their first hit, reaching No. 6 on the U. K. charts and securing them their first appearance on the BBC’s Top of the Pops TV show.
The Thin Lizzy and the Metallica versions of the song are pretty nifty numbers, driven by sinewy guitar lines and exceptional vocal performances. But the story they tell is a sketchy one, a first-person account of an Irish outlaw who robs a British official and is subsequently betrayed by a woman named Molly who is either his wife, girlfriend or favorite prostitute.
It works as self-mythology in that it conflates the singer with a romantic outlaw, who — the lyrics imply — has turned to crime to satisfy his ultimately unfaithful lover. The pop versions elide interesting details that aren’t present in earlier versions.
“Whiskey in the Jar,” which dates from the mid-17 th century, is based on the true story of Patrick Flemming, an Irish highwayman who was hanged near Dublin on April 24, 1650. Flemming has been portrayed as a brutal and indiscriminate armed robber who haunted the Bog of Allen in central Ireland and, according to the Newgate Calendar, an 18 th-century encyclopedia of notorious criminals, “attacked almost all who passed [his ] way, of whatever quality; telling them that he was absolute lord of that road.” Among Flemming’s more heinous acts was the kidnapping of a 4-year-old child, whose throat he threatened to cut if a ransom was not delivered within 24 hours. He murdered at least eight people and reportedly sliced off the nose, lips and ears of one nobleman who offered him resistance.
Flemming was captured on at least one occasion but escaped the county jail by climbing up a chimney. He was eventually brought to justice when the landlord of an inn he frequented soaked Flemming’s firearms while he slept and alerted the police.
In most traditional versions of the song, the incident is altered for dramatic effect — instead of the inn’s landlord wetting Flemming’s powder, it’s a woman — usually called Jenny, but Molly in the Metallica / Thin Lizzy version — who wets Flemming’s powder and betrays him to the authorities. For instance, in a version of the ballad called “Patrick Flemming” (alternately known as “Patrick Flemmen he was a Valiant Soldier” ) this verse appears: My whore she proved false and that is the reason Or else Patrick Flemming had never been taken, When I was asleep and knew nothing of the matter Then she loaded my arms with water This detail is preserved in most versions of the song, including the version recorded by The Dubliners and The Pogues, which includes this verse I went up to me chamber all for to take a slumber I dreamt of gold and jewels and sure it was no wonder But Jenny drew me charges and she filled them up with water And sent for Captain Farrell, to be ready for the slaughter.
For whatever reason, the version recorded by Thin Lizzy and Metallica doesn’t even make it clear that the highwayman has been betrayed. In these versions the lyric reads Being drunk and weary I went to Molly’s chamber Taking Molly with me, but I never knew the danger For about six or maybe seven, yeah, in walked Captain Farrell I jumped up, fired my pistols, and I shot him with both barrels It goes without saying that most Metallica fans are probably not going to object to the simplification of the lyrics, even if the elisions cost the narrative some sense (and, in a small way, revise history ). Most people don’t listen to Metallica for the lyrics — or even for the vocals (although singer James Hetfield’s performance of the song is outstanding ).
It’s telling that when Metallica made a video for the song they resisted playing off its long heritage, and instead placed the band in a contemporary house party setting surrounded by comely, misbehaving women. But Metallica has long been known for making videos that have little to do with the lyrical content of their songs, which is less important than the interesting tensions produced by the countervailing instrumental exertions.
Nowhere is this nonchalance about the lyrics — a common trait of musicians that more rock ’n’ roll critics should adopt — more apparent than in the song’s chorus, which is made up of what apparently are nonsense syllables (Musha rain dum a du dum a da / Whack fol the daddyo ) punctuated by a non sequitur (Whiskey in a jar-o ). (My assumption is that the chorus ’ lyric is derived from Irish Gaelic, but I can’t find any support for this theory. Any enlightenment would be welcome. )
It’s interesting how history and legend snake through time and culture, mostly running underground but popping up here and there in unusual manifestations. We don’t always know our sources; I suppose it’s possible (though unlikely ) that Metallica didn’t know anything more about the song than it was a cool Thin Lizzy tune. But it’s totally in the spirit of the magpie tradition of rock ’n’ roll for an American band like Metallica to appropriate an Irish folk tune — and to remake it for their own purposes. (Just as the Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin stole the blues from Mississippi and sold it back to us swaddled in snakeskin trousers. )
The story of Patrick Flemming has been obscured by time. I imagine that even the account of his life given in the Newgate Calendar is inaccurate to a degree; the book was originally put out by the warden of Newgate prison, who published a monthly bulletin of executions carried out as well as the facts of capital cases.
London publishers seized on the popularity of these publications and re-engineered them as a biographical compendium of evil-doers, sold to families as “improving literature.” Parents were supposed to read the stories to their children as cautionary tales. No doubt they presented the blackest and scariest versions of criminals that the fanciful records would admit.
Putting the song to use as the background for NFL highlights seems an ingenious and appropriate use — the violence of the ballad dovetails well with the image of professional football as a rough game. Crofford likes the energy and propulsive force of the music. He picked the Metallica song because he thinks it fits the use he puts it to, and he’s right.
“Whiskey in the Jar” is ubiquitous and buried in our collective psyche, a part of the Old World that we carried over with us (there’s another version of the song called “McCollister,” set in Vermont at the time of the Revolutionary War ). We might not recognize Patrick Flemming, but we see him all the time in movies and on TV, distilled into a type — the dashing, romantic criminal with doom in his blood. He lives, along with Stagger Lee and Jesse James, bad men who’ve infiltrated the American collective consciousness. Whack fol the daddy-o.
E-mail pmartin@arkansasonline. com[/indent]
