Allow me to tell you, dear readers, of a little something that happened while I was on a trip to New York for the College Media Advisers Conference this year. It was a Thursday, still warm, but cold weather was looming. A friend and I were headed toward Times Square to meet with another member of our group when I looked up and stopped dead. I’d never been so thankful for being a tourist as I was at that moment: I saw “THE COMMITMENTS” in red on the marquee over BB King’s.

As a former member of Mr. Troy Brownfield’s Irish Culture class at Saint Mary-of-the-Woods College (it’s a good one!), I was familiar with the film, featuring such musical talents as Andrew Strong, the entire membership of the Corrs, and a bunch of crazy men who claimed that Elvis was a Cajun.

The first thing I did at that point was freak out and point it out to the friend who was walking with me. She told me I was crazy. However, as soon as we’d met the friend, I knew I had to head back and find out how much those tickets were gonna cost me. And so I did, armed only with a knowledge of the location and a burning desire to see the Saviours of Soul on this, the Thursday before Saint Patrick’s Day.

So, I went in and inquired as to the price of tickets and whether or not there were any seats sill available. The good news? The tickets were only $29. The bad news? It was a full house. Sold out, but they advised me to come back a couple of hours before showtime and see if I could get my hands on a ticket that had previously belonged to a last-minute cancellation.

Armed with that knowledge, I went back to my hotel room and alerted Mr. Brownfield of my findings. Then, given the late hour of the afternoon, I went back to the venue and stood outside. And stood outside. Finally, the bouncer took pity on me and allowed me to go wait down in the bar, where I downed a can of Guinness in (for me) record time. For $8, that had better have been the best can of Guinness ever. Of course, it didn’t even remotely compare with the $6 pints of the same, drawn straight out of the tap, that I’d been able to get myself at O’Lunney’s on 46th near Times Square, but at least I was in the same building with The Commitments.

Then came my stroke of luck - a woman had two tickets she couldn’t use. A complete stranger and I each bought one of them, and then they seated us. In the front row. Right up against stage right. I was actually pressed right up against the enormous subwoofer. It took until the opening act for me to figure out exactly what it was.

Then, I noticed the sign, alerting me as to the fact that there was a $10 minimum per person per set. Inside the menu, another little surprise: they automatically add the gratuity to your check. I would have been less irritated if I hadn’t found that out before I got to the bill.

The opening band - a local one from the area whose name I don’t remember - was good. Not fantastic, but good, and they mercifully didn’t stay on long enough for me to get irate about wanting to see the Commitments. By the time they finished their set, I’d downed my second Guinness - and, hoo boy, was I ready to see the evening’s headliners.

As I’ve mentioned previously, only one of the original cast members from the film was playing that evening. Usually, there are two - the drummer, Dick Massey (also known as Billy Mooney), and the guitar player, Kenneth McCluskey (alias Derek “The Meatman” Scully), who was unfortunately unable to play the gig due to a recent hospitalization.

However, the band in its current incarnation was FANTASTIC. They worked the crowd, they were funny, and they played all the classic songs from the film and even a few more. My personal favorite, Mustang Sally, may have heralded the best four minutes of my life. Joe Walsh, who replaced Andrew Strong (Deco Cuffe) as the band’s lead singer, was a good fit for the part, and he did a good job at filling Strong’s shoes.

There were also several comedic moments - a personal favorite of mine was when the band began playing instrumental music in a traditional Irish style. Walsh began a lengthy narrative on the song they would be playing next - a traditional Irish song, over 800 years old, that the Irish people would sing in their camps as they prepared to do battle with the English. That song was “Mustang Sally.”

In another brilliant moment that could only have been a direct reference to the film, Danny Healy (the band’s trumpet player), in the middle of one of a number of the soul standards The Commitments would play that evening, played a jazz solo. I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time.

The ladies of the band, Karen Coleman and Claire Malone, were perhaps even better showpeople than was Walsh, and I do not say that lightly. Coleman’s rendition of Chain of Fools was one of the best versions of that song I’ve ever heard - she may be no Aretha, but she’s certainly incredibly talented.

I have no complaints whatsoever with the band. However, the venue leaves something to be desired - while I didn’t sample the food, our waitress was slow (excusable, given the ridiculous number of people crammed into the room) and rude (inexcusable despite the number of people), and at the end of the night, she forgot to make the $10 change she owed me and my table mate for our $30 check.

I also dislike the idea of a minimum purchase as a practice; however, it’s easy to see that the venue probably makes more money off food and beverage sales than it does off the sales of the (relatively) inexpensive tickets, most of which I would imagine would go toward paying the band’s fees.

Even despite the lackluster service, the evening will remain, in my memory, one of the best I’ve had in years. I would have much preferred to see The Pogues, who were also playing in New York that weekend, but my chance encounter with the Saviours of Soul was just enough to renew my faith in fate. If I hadn’t chanced down that particular street on that particular afternoon, I’d never have known what a great opportunity I’d have missed. Instead, I get to brag about it to you, dear readers.

So, in closing, I advise you this: if The Commitments are playing nearby, go see them. It’s a show you won’t regret catching. You can find a list of their tour dates and locations on their website. Oh, and if you haven’t seen the film? Shame on you. You should rent it immediately. For a most-definitely NSFW preview, you can check out ‘Da Fookin’ Short Version‘ on YouTube.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, March 21st, 2007 at 6:16 pm and is filed under Barbara Hallock, Bars and Nightlife, Culture, Film, Live Show Reviews, Music. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site. Your comments will be moderated but will appear as soon as humanly possible.