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OFF THE RECORD: Good Golly, Miss Molly!
BY MIKE FARRAGHER
AS I boarded the plane last week from Newark to sunny San Diego, I was a bundle of nerves. I couldn't wait to get inside the cramped steel tube so that I could join the "Mile High Club." After all, two Mollys accompanied me, and I was certain that at least one of them was going to "go all the way" for me by the end of the flight.
There I was, my head and body shaking to the groove, when the stewardess tapped me on the shoulder. There was a stern yet bemused look on her face.
"You can't do that on the plane, sir. The other passengers are complaining about the noise."
My face red with embarrassment, I spun my head from side to side to meet the angry glares of the other passengers. I sheepishly ejected the CD from my CDROM drive and closed the screen onto the keys of my laptop. Let that be a lesson to you all: NEVER try to review a CD on a crowded transAtlantic flight.
I am happy to say that while I did not get to join the "Mile High Club" that day, both The Mollys and Flogging Molly are girls that aim to satisfy. The only things that these bands have in common are their "Molly" name and their connection to the Pogues. The Mollys are a self-described "tangled roots" country rock band from the southwest, while Flogging Molly is a rip-roaring punk group that instantly grips your senses like a randy...