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The Flann Comes Around

His third album finds him at the top of his game but, as Craig Fitzpatrick learns, Mick Flannery still struggles with his calling in life.

Craig Fitzpatrick, 12 Apr 2012

Seated across from respected Cork songwriter Mick Flannery in Dublin’s Library Bar for a good ten minutes, it’s now become apparent from his distracted gaze that something interesting is going on over my shoulder. Hushed, thoughtful and quick to portray himself as “moany” ‘til this point, there’s a glint in his eyes, a smile on his lips. He moves close to let the journo in. “There’s two people doing interviews for a tour company behind you,” he whispers. “They’re hiring tour guides. They’ve been there all morning. But there’s three buckos to the right who’ve come in absolutely tanked. They’re hammered!” True enough, I turn to catch sight of one man stumbling towards his ‘interview’. Mick giggles. “Here we are! He seems well-prepared. Oh jesus, howya... the two girls are talking to him.” A moment’s commotion

before Mick deadpans: “And... they’re not going to hire him!” The demon drink strikes again. Even managing to scupper minor economic recovery. As for our dealings, it seems better off we stick to the coffee. With Flannery’s third album, the assured and typically heartfelt Red To Blue about to be released, there’s plenty to cover in a lucid manner. Of course, a sober early afternoon with Mick Flannery is quite far removed from the images his albums thus far have conjured up. A gifted writer with a growl of a voice, his songs suggest late nights in bars slumped over pianos. Influence-wise, he’s long been lost to the Bukowskis and Waitses of the world. Does that boozy portrayal sit well with him? “It’s not too far from the truth really,” he smiles. “The lads in the band call me ‘thirsty’! I don’t know if there was ever a ‘persona’ or... what would you call it? A stereotype. A vibe. But, you know what? And this doesn’t do anything to take away from the point – a hangover is actually quite a good time to write a song. It’s that hopeful twilight zone between the end of the hangover and the start of the next evening, realising you’re okay. There’s a moment of clarity. ‘I can do something here!’”



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