I think it’s time for a music post.
It took me 10+ years to figure out my favorite band even though it should have been quite obvious. After seeing Flogging Molly for the 12th time in 2015, I finally had the realization that the Celtic-rock band I’d been listening to since before high school was a clear and distant first place.
I’ve now seen Flogging Molly 14 times and have every intention of continuing to do so at every opportunity. I’ve attended their shows in Tempe, Peoria, Flagstaff, Indianapolis, Los Angeles and San Diego.
From the moment I heard their Irish-brand, sound I was in love. It mixed the depths of my emerald colored soul with the hard, punk sound I enjoy. When I went to my first Flogging Molly show in 2005 I had no idea what I was in for. The smell of beer and the drunken mob of pasty-white, American-Irish boys doing a combination of what can only be described as a ‘mosh-jig’, was both scary and mesmerizing at the same time. It’s something I’ve come to expect and appreciate with every FM concert I attend. I know exactly where I want to situate myself before the show for my ideal experience – near the front of the crowd, close to the stage and slightly to the left. If everything goes according to plan I am close enough to the mosh pit to be bumped by the over-zealous pushes, but out of direct harms way and with plenty of room to flail and jump around to the music myself.
I’ve changed a lot over the years, but my love for Flogging Molly, and the sweaty mess, absence of a voice, Lizzy I’m left with at the end of every show will always be a constant.
“No color left, but black and white and soon we’ll all turn grey.
But may these shadows rise to walk again with lessons truly learnt.
When the blossom flowers in each our hearts shall be the new found flame.”