I’m not quite sure what the attraction is for me, except for the fact that I’m about 50% Scotch-Irish (and I prefer talking up my Irish qualities), but I have this strange soft spot for anything even vaguely approaching traditional Irish or Celtic music. It’s nothing I listen to on any regular basis, but I have to strongly resist the urge to dance around like a fool any time I hear the wail of an Irish fiddle, and the compunction to do a jig becomes even stronger when placed over a rousing punk double-time beat. Whether it’s The Pogues, Flogging Molly, or Dropkick Murphys, every time it comes on I want to bust out some atrocious Bono-esque accent, knock back a few shots of Jameson, and pogo about the room like a fool. And maybe that’s a good thing, because there aren’t too many of my treasured indie rock acts that compel me to prance about with abandon like the music of my heritage does.
So, when I first sent Pacifica, the third album from Oregon-based Amadan, spinning through my car stereo, I found it difficult to sit still and drive. The band possesses the same exciting attributes as the better-known bands in the genre, in that they write tight punk hooks mixed with traditional instrumentation while weaving earnest story-songs out of the people in their lives and neighborhoods. There’s little room for philosophizing and abstract poetic ramblings here: these are songs about hard-bitten, blue-collar characters, culled primarily from their immediate circle of friends and acquaintances, that soaked in all manner of whiskey and offered up for consumption to their fans. Along with their excellent renditions of the traditional tunes “Leaving For Liverpool” and “Devil In The Kitchen,” Amadan (Gaelic for “idiot”) most capably flexes their songwriting and musicianship muscle on riveting, fist-pumping tracks like “The Old North End,” “Anchor Tattoo,” “Serenity,” and “Pishi.” Yes, I do know that not everyone might be able to appreciate this style of music for what it is (and there is the occasional clunker of a song), but I’ll have to check your pulse if these rollicking songs aren’t able to get you off your feet and attempting to dance some sort of jig (without the influence of alcohol!).