Ted Leo / Pharmacists - Tell Balgeary, Balgury Is Dead / Sharkbite Sessions

Ted Leo, Webster Hall, 2016 (photo by Amanda Hatfield)

Here's a story about the first time I met Ted Leo. It's the spring of 1995. A friend from my drama class invites me to join him and a couple other classmates to skip school on a Monday and trek from HarCo down to DC to see the Cranberries play a free show at the Sylvan Theater, down by the Washington Monument. The 'Berries were mid-tour in support of "No Need to Argue", and while I wasn't a big fan, that record was ubiquitous. And it was a perfect day in DC: sunny, not too hot, just really nice. We had arrived in time for an opener none of us had ever heard of, a local band called Chisel. They were just great, to the point where I remember asking aloud, "Why doesn't 'HFS play these guys?" They were punk in the same way Jawbox or Shudder to Think were punk, yet tuneful, with enough pop flavor to cross over easily.

They wrap up their set, and, by this point, it's a pretty big crowd. No one watching the show knew it at the time, but there were about three times as many people in attendance than had been expected. The Cranberries take forever to come out, and when they finally do, they play "Linger". I've seen more restrained pits during Cro-Mags show. People were flying off the stage. It was wholly inappropriate for the show and I was probably one of a handful of people reveling in it. Dolores O'Riordan sat her acoustic guitar on a stand behind her, and the 'Berries began their second song. I remember noticing half a dozen mounted police had appeared on either side the stage...then the song cut out. The Park Police had ended the show, and, suddenly, we're all in a riot. Our brave quartet was a Mekons song come to life. We darted between a pair of horses to stage right, watched as a drunk college guy took a swing at a cop, and beat feet to Union Station.

We're earlier than we expected to be, so we have no clue which train to take towards home, or when said train will leave. We're trying to interpret the big schedule; after all, we're four high school kids from the northern suburbs of Baltimore. What do WE know about the Metro system? I turn to my left, and who do I see, but the band we'd just seen, pre-riot. One of the women in our group whispered, "Oh my god, are those the guys from that band?" They hear us talking about them, turn and look. I wave and say, "Hey. You guys were great today." And we all start talking. I had no idea that they hadn't released an LP yet, just a few singles to that point. Or that they were barely a few years older than us, fresh out of Notre Dame. Here were some fellas just an hour after opening for the biggest band on the planet (at that moment). They actually wanted to talk to us. It was an amazing feeling.

I told Ted that story a number of years later before a show at the Ottobar, thinking he'd have no clue what I was babbling about. Instead, he recalled parts of the day I hadn't been familiar with; that Chisel was at Union Station because they'd gotten the gig last minute and hadn't driven their van, that the Cranberries had been pissed off because Chisel had to share a backline, that they'd had a giggle after we left because they couldn't understand why we were treating them like rock stars. We clinked glasses of Jameson and toasted each other for surviving the great WHFS Riot of 1995.

I was already a fan of Ted Leo and the Pharmacists before that night, but that encounter really sealed my love for the man and his music. It bums me out that they had such shitty luck with labels: Lookout going out of business, Touch & Go almost completely ending release of new records, Matador just abandoning support of the band. That 10 year run, between "The Tyranny of Distance" and "The Brutalist Bricks", remains one of my favorite series of records from a single band. I feel like they were a contender for the best indie rock band around during that time, as well as one of the last links to the indie scenes of the 80s and 90s.

"Tell Balgeary, Balgury Is Dead" came out in 2003, between the TL/Rx's third and fourth albums. It was both a throwback to their early dub recordings, as well as the record that best reflects Ted's Irish Catholic heritage. There are a trio of covers, interpreting The Jam, Split Enz, and Ewan McColl. Dan Littleton (the Hated, Ida) makes an appearance on "Bleeding Powers", as well as handles producer duties on much of the record. I'll even argue that the title track might be the weakest part of the release. It all reminds me of the Joe Strummer solo records, or something you'd hear played from the corner of an Irish pub in an East Coast city.

The "Sharkbite Sessions" was recorded and released 2 years later, and shares two songs in common with "Balgeary". But this is a tighter, more raucous affair. The trio of Leo/Lerner/Wilson had been playing out live for three years at that point, and it shows up in this recording. I bought this mainly because TL/Rx covered "Suspect Device" by Stiff Little Fingers, but I think it serves as the flipside of the coin from "Balgeary". At any rate, I have no clue if these are streamable, but I think they're hella great summer records. So plunk 'em on a tape and drive around, enjoying the fresh air at least six feet away from everyone.

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