February 16, 2011
By Staff Reporter
Lesser mortals might have taken offense. Not the Ruffians, however, who despite that bad review have become a band with a growing following in the tri-state area and, naturally, ambitions for even greater stardom.
Front man Sean Griffin, who’s from New Rochelle, N.Y., explained with a characteristically mischievous grin that the band’s attitude has been that there is no such thing as bad publicity.
“We put that quote from the review on our T-shirts,” explained Griffin, and, as if to emphasize the point, “on the back we put, ‘the Ruffians are shite.’ “
They’re not, however. A Ruffians gig is a zany experience of lyrical, sometimes angry songs about the vagaries of the life of the common man, performed by Griffin and his three comrades, Dan Griffin on bass guitar, Jerome Morris on drums, and Kevin Meehan on button accordion.
Then there’s the energetic Irish step-dancing by some of the band’s hardcore fans — and the fact that after a particularly rowdy gig, the band may somehow lose their clothes by the end of the night.
In other words, a Ruffians gig isn’t for the faint of heart: sometimes the band has a fifth member in the form of a mad piper who bursts into the gig from outside or another room sometimes dressed as a Viking.
“That’s Matt,” said Griffin, referring to piper Matt McSweeney, who’s a friend and loyal fan of the band and who occasionally provides this moment of comic interruption to the confusion of the audience.
That confusion increases when McSweeney topples to the floor as though the wind has gone out of his sails as well as his pipes. Only the intervention of Griffin and his brother brings McSweeney back to life: they “reinflate” him by pumping his legs.
There’s no confusing what the Ruffians are all about when they start to belt out a song, however: it’s what the band members have called “American soul with Irish attitude,” though Griffin alludes to Brit pop influences such as Oasis and Blur, as well as punk — the Clash, he said specifically.
“We’re a working-class band,” Griffin said last week, speaking before the Ruffians prepared for a gig in Stamford’s Playwright bar. He speaks with feeling of his Irish heritage, of his ancestors who often worked hard in thankless jobs.
And for all their onstage bravado, the Ruffians said they may be “bad” Catholics — but the Catholic members of the band attend Mass every week. They say a prayer before going on stage and each new master CD is blessed by a priest before it’s sent off.
“We’re not just taking the ‘Foggy Dew’ and setting new lyrics to it,” Griffin continued. He’s a professionally trained musician who writes almost all of the band’s original repertoire, now nearly 150 songs.
“What we want to do is to tell stories like ‘I lost my love . . . and so then I kicked the crap out of someone.’ You don’t have to be Irish or Irish American to get the songs.”
As an example, Griffin points to his latest ballad, a haunting song called “Be My Girl.”
It’s a song about loneliness and about not finding a partner in life and how, no matter how terrible one’s job may be, coming home to the one you love can make it all right, Griffin said. The song is a lament that toward the end becomes prayer-like: “Sweet Jesus, can you show me a sign, can you throw me a line . . . “
Life’s not all downcast, however. Other numbers include “For the Money,” a biting song about what people think when they see a young pretty bride with an old rich husband: the band roars, “She married him for the money!” in the chorus, with audience participation.
Recently the Ruffians acquired a new manager and the band is looking to 2004 as a year for realizing even greater success.
“We’re hoping to have a happy balance between the Irish thing and getting more rock and roll clubs,” Griffin added. In August, the band played their first gig at the prestigious Knitting Factory venue in Lower Manhattan.
The Ruffians play Sunday evenings at 9 at Rocky Sullivan’s, 129 Lexington Ave. (at 29th street), NYC.