Album Review: The Mary Wallopers, Paddywhackery

“This is Irish rock ’n’ roll,” sings Andrew Hendy on ‘The Juice’, while dancing rather marvellously in the accompanying lo-fi video. It’s a song that distils the essential Mary Wallopers ingredients: anti-establishment ire, pints and rebellion, all wrapped around a delicious melody.

By then, Brother Charles has already taken aim at old John Bull on lead single ‘Crowns Of England’, tearing the arse out of the butcher’s apron and pudgy Winston, whilst invoking the ghosts of the Pecker Dunne and Margaret Barry.

Founding member Seán McKenna’s 2025 departure altered the chemistry, but the Wallopers now draw extra muscle from Róisín Barrett’s bass, Ken Mooney’s drums, Finnian O'Connor's pipes and whistles, and Catriona Gribben’s accordion.

‘Seán na Sagart’ gallops across the tale of notorious 18th century priest hunter John Mullowney during the Penal era in the County Mayo.

Further mischief, meanwhile, arrives with ‘Smuggling The Tin’. Popularised by Liam Weldon, it is handled here with wonderful delicacy, lending the song an unexpected poignancy. ‘Castlecoe Hill’, named for the rise overlooking Clogherhead – not far from the Hendys’ home patch – rattles along with the momentum of a mighty reel, while Ed Pickford’s ‘Worker’s Song’ slots seamlessly among the glut of Hendy originals, both sonically and philosophically.

One of those, ‘Landlord’s Demise’, is a reminder that some Irish grievances possess an alarming shelf life – lyrically, it fits 2026 almost as comfortably as it might have 1926. Elsewhere, the superb ‘Kit Kat Club’ takes a riotous detour through Berlin’s nocturnal underworld.

It’s the sort of thing that should sound positively incendiary when the Wallopers hit Dublin’s 3Arena in December.

9/10