The Thin Lizzy Appreciation Society

I grew up with rock radio. I couldn't avoid it, and for many, many years, I didn't try to either. In retrospect, It's hard to imagine or to understand what it was about me that kept me bound so painfully to a medium that in all honestly left me feeling empty and hungry. I guess ignorance had a huge part to do with it. And there it was, in the middle of the nightmare that was 80s album oriented rock, a song that always had me running for the nearest exit, The Boys Are Back In Town. I had no idea who did it, and I didn't want to know. I just knew that I had to avoid it because I fucking hated it. It seemed like the epitome of all that I found horrible in modern rock. In fact, for years I just assumed the song was done by Bruce Springsteen.

Eventually I found out that Thin Lizzy wrote it, and that was enough for me to write them off for life. I was a kid. I didn't have much of a brain then, and was abysmally stupid and arrogant about things that I actually knew little about.

Years later, a girl I was dating had a roommate who was an unabashed fan of classic rock much in the same way that Mike Simms from Rudz Pub is now. In other words, she lived and breathed the shit. So while I was languishing in their house, recovering from an operation, this girl tells me excitedly about the Thin Lizzy cassette she just got. Fuck me, I think to myself. And then she asks me if I want to borrow it. Too modest to tell the truth, I feign interest and borrow the tape. Then I listen to the thing in its entirety in front of her. I hated it. It was like an entire collection of Boys Are Back soundalikes and it was killing me. But as is often the case with me and the music that I hate but which someone I respect finds so wonderful, I had to give it closer attention. And this is where it gets interesting for me.

There I am listening to the Cowboy Song. It's a song about cowboys for fucks sake, written by a black Irishman, and I find that I am digging it.

I listen to it again, and then I listen to the rest of the tape, and it's the damnedest thing, this band and its front man are starting to grab me.

So I buy the album on CD and I wear that motherfucker out. I play that CD easily a hundred times before shelving it for a breather. I fall hook line and sinker for these solid, emotional rock songs with a working class sensibility.

So I am writing this as a response to the backlash that Thin Lizzy is getting here in the NAP at the hands of those who contribute and those who frequent and comment regularly.

I am here to tell you that I am not only an acolyte of Phil Lynott and his compelling music, I am a die hard petitioner for his sainthood.

He was a black Irish man who gained prominence writing deeply soulful rock songs on a bass guitar in the seventies. That is no small feat. He jettisoned himself into a world that was not too keen to listen to the music of a black guy from anywhere. Name me one other black 70s rock star. Hendrix? Anyone else? Eddie Hazel? Not a big list of guys. But his race had nothing to do with any of it, and that's because they lived and died at the hands of the songwriting. And what sort of material did Lynott write for Thin Lizzy? He wrote proto-metal, hard rock, soulful songs with an ear for Ireland and an ear for America and a deep, unironic love for every single note.

He lived it and, unfortunately, he died by it as well. The drugs and the drink got the better of him and by 1986, Lynott was gone. Stupid fucking loss.

And now, it's 2008, and Lynott's music continues to expand beyond its obvious connection with the era from which it was born.

Ramon isn't impressed, Kilian is practically offended, maybe even racially offended, and others just don't get it. Hey, I didn't either. I didn't for years.

So what can I say? I get it now and I am simply moved by this band. In fact, I still start getting a little choked up whenever I hear the Cowboy Song, and I am not sure why. I mean, "I am just a cowboy, lonesome on the range"? A black Irish dude sings that, and I get all dewy eyed? That is a testament to the power of his talent.

You may not ever understand what it is about Thin Lizzy that moves me. You may live your whole life convinced that I am a total and complete idiot for the way I feel about them, and that's fine. I can deal with that.

Just promise me this. Listen to this band. Really listen to it. Drop your preconceived notions about what you think is cool. If you enjoy strong rock, enjoy the sound of distorted guitars playing solos that are powerful and melodic, and if you enjoy a strong charactered voice, an honest voice, then just listen. Maybe you'll write me off forever as a fucking crackpot. I don't care, you may already think that anyway.

But, maybe, you'll hear what it is about Thin Lizzy that I love and you will love it too. That's the beauty of loving music and that is why I come back to this blog week after week despite the endless issues that keep me from loving the blog itself. It's the music, and it's Thin Lizzy, and it's Phil Lynott, and I would hate to have gone through life and never been able to get into this.

Oh yeah, and the Replacements are shallow, talentless hacks unfit to write a birthday card. And that is an indisputable fact.