West Coast Celtic

Young Dubliners return to Tupelo

In the world of classic rock, there’s a lot of love for the Young Dubliners. One reason perhaps is Keith Roberts, who co-founded the band with a fellow Irishman in the early ’90s, grew up watching Top of the Pops, and decided that home country bands like Big Country and Boomtown Rats were more interesting to him than traditional Celtic reels.

The biggest factor, though, is the number of rock stars who love them.

After Bernie Taupin watched the Young Dubs (what most fans call them) light up L.A.’s House of Blues in the late 1990s, he gifted them with the lyrics to “Red.” It became the title track of a 2000 album, one of their best. However, a certain Sir Elton almost kept that from happening.

Roberts wrote the music quickly, and Taupin loved it, Roberts recalled by phone recently. “Then right as it was recorded and ready to go, Elton suddenly tells Bernie, ‘I’m working on something for that song.’ Bernie said, ‘no you’re not, Elton. I’ve given it to the boys.’ I always joke about how I’ve never met Elton John, but I’ve [screwed] with him.”

Red was helped by a tour opening for Jethro Tull, during which Tull’s front man found ways to make every press avail about the Young Dubliners. “That album blew up massively because of Ian Anderson talking about it, and everything he did. Every interview, he would make me come in and do all the media stuff.”

They’ve toured with a bevy of bands over the years.

“We just became friends with these people,” Roberts said. “Following an appearance at the Deadwood Jam in the Black Mountain Hills of South Dakota, Ed Roland of Collective Soul recruited him for a night of partying, along with Spin Doctors lead singer Chris Barron.

“Ed said to me in his southern drawl, ‘I hear you like to drink whiskey.’ I said, ‘I’ve been known to,’ and he’s like, ‘Well, why don’t we go do that?’” They headed into the Deadwood Saloon. “The girl just kept putting bottles of Jameson on the table, and we just kept going.”

The next night, Collective Soul’s road manager asked Roberts, “‘Would it be OK if I didn’t take Ed out again?,’ because he was hurting pretty bad. I’m like, oh, crap, really? Then I’m doing it again.”

In August, they will join On the Blue, a cruise hosted by the Moody Blues’ Justin Hayward, with acts like Alan Parsons, Dave Mason, Starship with Mickey Thomas and more. This year’s cruise originates in Boston; because of the city’s Irish heritage, the Young Dubliners will play the ship away from the dock and off to Nova Scotia and New Brunswick.

So, more than six decades down the road, this affinity for the Young Dubs’ anthem-y Celtic rock endures. This may seem at odds with their name. However, they didn’t choose it; it chose them. Roberts moved to Southern California with hopes of becoming a rock journalist, but ended up opening a pub and starting a band instead.

“Me and Paul O’Toole, who started the band, he was from Dublin and I was from Dublin, and people would say, oh, the young lads from Dublin are playing,” Roberts recalled. “They started making backdrops from sheets that they just spray-painted Young Dubliners on.”

They never dreamed of getting a record deal, but when it happened they had to agree on the fan-bestowed moniker, which needed to be cleared by Ronnie Drew, leader of The Dubliners in Ireland and a family friend. “I had to call him and ask him, was it all right, because the label wouldn’t let me change the … name.”

They received his blessings — “Keep the faith,” he said — and later got an even more satisfying validation.

“When my dad passed away, at the funeral, they took a picture of me and my brother and Ronnie Drew,” he said,. It was printed in the local paper. “It said, ‘Old Dubliner and Young Dubliner say goodbye to Charlie.’ It was the biggest gift you could give me, because that made the Irish accept the name.”

Young Dubliners
When: Sunday, March 30, 7 p.m.
Where: Tupelo Music Hall, 10 A St., Derry
Tickets: $35 and up at tupelohall.com

Featured photo. Young Dubliners. Courtesy photo.

The Music Roundup 25/03/27

Song man: A fixture on the New England roots scene since the mid-’90s Willy Porter has three New Hampshire shows upcoming, one at a venerable brewpub and restaurant’s weekly series. Porter’s most recent album is 2023’s The Ravine, with the sweet father and son bonding song, “Baseball on the Radio.” Singer, songwriter and painter Tom Pirozzoli opens the show. Thursday, March 27, 7:30 p.m., Flying Goose, 40 Andover Road, New London; 526-6800 for reservations.

Big pair: The White Stripes formed a few years before Sirsy launched, and while the upstate New York duo may not be in the running for the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, their raw power is undeniable. Guitarist Rich Libutti plays a weathered Rickenbacker through a multitude of pedals while Melanie Krahmer furiously pounds on the drums and sings with the energy of Janis Joplin reborn. Friday, March 28, 9 p.m., Shaskeen Pub, 909 Elm St., Manchester. More at sirsy.com.

Funk fun: A double bill for locals to love has UP – The Band and The Kenny Brothers sharing the stage and players for a raucous, funked up basement party. The two recently did an energetic Seacoast show. UP is led by Eric Reingold, with fellow JamAntic Freeland Hubbard and Johnny Santana on guitars, Wayne Summerford playing drums, and guests often joining in. Friday, March 28, 9 p.m., Penuche’s, 16 Bicentennial Square, Concord, facebook.com/penuches.concord.

Dad jokes: The state’s longest-running comedy club hosts Mike Hanley, who in his bio sums up his riffs on parenthood thusly: “If you are married you will laugh at Mike’s hysterical stories. If you are single you will want to stay that way.” A joke about accidentally confusing a tube of Desitin with toothpaste, and how the poison control helpline responded, lands perfectly. Saturday, March 29, 8:30 p.m., Headliners at Doubletree, 700 Elm St., Manchester, $20 at headlinersnh.com.

Irish mist: Keep basking in a green glow with Altan, considered one of Ireland’s finest musical exports, led by vocalist and fiddler Mairéad Ní Mhaonaigh. Their most recent album, Donegal, celebrates the county where they formed, a bustling part of Ireland’s folk scene. The record is also the first with new fiddler and singer Claire Friel, who takes a lead vocal on “Faoiseamh a Gheobhadsa.” Sunday, March 30, 3 p.m., BNH Stage, 16 S. Main St., Concord, $49 at ccanh.com.

I’m Still Here (PG-13)

A woman’s beautiful family life falls apart when her husband is disappeared by the Brazilian government in I’m Still Here, the Oscar-winning adaptation of the true story of Rubens and Eunice Paiva in 1970s Brazil.

Rubens (Selton Mello) was once a congressman but is now an engineer living with his wife, Eunice (Fernanda Torres), and their five children in Rio de Janeiro in a lovely house by a lovely beach. Like, it is all so lovely and sunny and early 1970s beautiful — from the cars to the clothes to the luminous Torres. Her happy children run around like kids on vacation — teen daughters Vera (Valentina Herszage), Eliana (Luiza Kosovski) and Nalu (Barbara Luz) are all about music and records, younger kids Marcelo (Guilherme Silveira) and Babiu (Cora Mora) are all about a small shaggy dog they find on the beach and make the family pet, naming him after Vera’s shaggy-haired boyfriend. But like storm clouds on the horizon of a perfect beach day, the heavy-handed presence of the dictatorship government is everywhere along the edges of their lives. The news is full of talk of abducted ambassadors, military trucks full of troops roll down city streets and Vera and her friends are stopped on the way home from a movie by a checkpoint looking for “terrorists,” a label which seems to indicate anyone with disagreements with the government. We see Rubens accept and hand off envelopes and talk with his friends who seem to be politically aligned with his anti-dictatorship views but the only people in this circle who seem worried are a bookshop-owning family who have decided to move to London and offer to take Vera with them, which Rubens and Eunice agree to.

Rubens and Eunice are just enjoying an afternoon together — playing backgammon, smoking cigarettes in a way that makes even a non-smoker want a drag — when armed men show up. There are no warrants, no papers, no uniforms, just guys with guns saying Rubens has to come with them to give some kind of testimony. He tells Eunice not to worry, that he will be back before dinner, and gets into his car with one of the men. Several of the men stay at their house, searching Rubens’ office and just generally being menacing. Eunice tries to keep things normal for the younger children and sends one of the kids off to spend the night with her friend. But she can’t entirely hide her fear from 15-year-old Eliana, especially when after about a day, the men say Eunice and Eliana need to come with them.

Eunice spends a harrowing 12 days in a jail, seemingly run by the military, being asked about random friends and acquaintences, terrified for her daughter and her husband. Torres does an excellent job of making the Euince who returns home after being released a completely different person than the one who left — her easy smile is gone, the light in her face is replaced by tenseness. It’s a magnificent performance — would I place it above Demi Moore’s The Substance performance, one of the performances nominated along with Torres’ for Lead Actress at the recent Oscars? Maybe not, but I do think I’d rank it higher than winner Mikey Madison. (I’m Still Here did take home an Oscar for Best International Feature Film.)

It’s hard not to weigh the movie against the other Best Picture nominees — it would definitely be in my top three of those 10 films. The movie does an excellent job of juxtaposing the normalness of life — even in a dictatorship kids still adopt stray dogs, families still eat ice cream, the beach is still a mini vacation — with the psychological destruction of Rubens’ absence. It’s not just that he’s arrested, he is thoroughly disappeared, removed from existence by the blank wall of an unaccountable government. They won’t even admit that he was arrested or what happened to him. Eunice initially can’t access any of his/their money because he doesn’t exist even on a death certificate that would make her a widow. The movie shows how a country doesn’t literally need to be at war for existence to become terrifying. A Available for rent or purchase.

Black Bag (R)

Married British spies get tangled up in the sale of state secrets in Black Bag, a well-paced mystery from director Steven Soderbergh.

George Woodhouse (Michael Fasbender) is tasked with finding the fellow spy who sold a thing to the Russians (the thing is a device that causes a meltdown of a nuclear plant). The suspects are friends and colleagues — and his wife, who is also a spy, Kathryn St. Jean (Cate Blanchett). He invites the other suspects to dinner: friend/co-worker Freddie (Tom Burke); Freddie’s too-young girlfriend/fellow agent Clarissa (Marisa Abela); James (Regé-Jean Page), who George recently promoted above Freddie, and Zoe (Naomie Harris), James’ girlfriend and a staff therapist who professionally treats/oversees all the suspects. At George’s dinner, a dish dosed to lower inhibitions results in fights all around but doesn’t leave George with a clear answer. As he watches the repercussions of the dinner’s conversations play out, the clues start to point to Kathryn’s involvement. George is such a straight shooter that he once brought down his own father, but what will he do if Kathryn is the one who is in trouble?

Black Bag is solidly acted, coolly funny and wonderfully brisk. For me, there is a sparkle that this talented cast suggested but that the movie didn’t fully deliver on. But this doesn’t make this any less a solid, quietly fun adult thriller. B In theaters.

Snow White (PG)

Disney tries to make a plucky modern hero out of the OG “Some Day My Prince Will Come” Princess in Snow White, a weird mess of an unnecessary live action adaptation of the 1937 animated movie.

First, let’s jump back to the 1937 source material, which I definitely saw years ago but only vaguely remembered as a tale where the heroine’s inciting event is that she’s discovered to be too pretty and her special skill is tidying up. I rewatched it after seeing this new Snow White and it is not quite what I remembered. Animated Snow White, who reads as sort of Clara Bow plus Shirley Temple, and her Prince Charming (we call him that but he doesn’t actually have a name) and the Evil Queen are wafer thin characters presented in a high melodrama. Snow White and the prince meet while singing and decide they are in True Love, a fact that then doesn’t really matter for the story again until the movie’s final moments. Snow White is nearly killed by the Huntsman, who was ordered by the queen to cut out her heart because the queen was jealous of Snow’s beauty, but he tells her to flee instead, and then she runs off into the forest in a panic. You can see in this story the scaffolding on which 2007’s Enchanted built its fairy tale riff — and actually that movie serves as a pretty good live action take on the Snow White story.

But back in 1937, all of this romance-and-jealousy stuff is just setup for what serves as the true heart of the animated movie, which is Looney Tunes-esque woodland animal hijinks and Three Stooges/Oliver & Hardy-ish wackiness of the seven short miners that Snow White encounters when she invites herself into their cottage in the woods. Their vibe is very much “grizzled prospector” and/or less-malevolent Elmer Fudd. Bigger chunks of the movie than I expected are about them Stooge-ily trying to sneak in the house to figure out who is inside or goofing at an outdoor wash bin, doing silly bits with bubbles.

The Snow White of it all — with the red hair band and the weird dress and the getting squirrels to help her do chores — has stuck around through the decades because she’s the central image of the movie and because she’s the most merch-able element (little princess-phase girls still dress up as her) but she’s rather incidental to most of the fun stuff in that movie. The 1937 movie’s whole vibe is very of its time — it’s a fascinating watch for the visuals and the style of comedy but I don’t see why anyone would really want to remake it (other than whole IP machine, of course).

Back to the new live-action movie: here, we get a whole backstory about Snow White (Rachel Zegler), the princess born during a blizzard, hence the name, and beloved child of two benevolent rulers of a happy kingdom. But then, in the grand Disney tradition, good Queen Snow White’s Mom (Lorena Andrea) dies and King Snow White’s Dad (Hadley Fraser) is enchanted with the beautiful, minor-magic-having lady Evil Queen (Gal Gadot). They marry, she convinces him to go fight the Southern Kingdom and then the Evil Queen becomes a dictator who rules by fear and makes bakers and farmers serve as soldiers. Snow White is forced to be her servant for no particular reason, and is also afraid (of the Queen? I think?) and just sort of mopes around feeling bad about the situation.

No handsome prince here, instead she meets a floppy-haired cute guy, Jonathan (Andrew Burnap), stealing potatoes to help feed his merry band of Robin-Hood-esque thieves — but like half-hearted thieves. Did the movie say they were once a theater troupe? Because I was getting real “pop-up production of Midsummer Night’s Dream” vibes off of them.

Once again, the Magic Mirror (voice of Patrick Page) tells the Evil Queen that she is the fairest of them all — which, how is a magical object who can only do that one thing (as the movie specifies) useful? He is basically a yes-man who only gives her the positive poll numbers, until one day he tells her that Snow White is fairer. But in this movie “fair” can mean both “kind and just” and “beautiful” and it seems like Snow White is defined as the first and the Evil Queen is only concerned with the second and what even is the conflict here? But anyway, off to the woods and the woodland creatures and, eventually, the seven dwarfs who are here the most oddly rendered CGI approximations of the animated characters. The slapstick is very secondary to the central story of Snow White, learning to stand in her power or whatever and rescue her kingdom from the tyranny of the Evil Queen who doesn’t seem to have much of a plan beyond “wear pointy jewels and try to be a sassy bad-ass.”

Gal Gadot can’t quite make her villainy fun or interesting. She is no Cate Blanchett, who was such a delicious evil stepmother in the live-action Cinderella, all Bette Davis snarls to accompany her on-point lewks. Gadot’s performance is only wardrobe, and while the wardrobe is nice it’s not enough to carry her through.

Zegler brings something more to Snow White, even if her conflict isn’t well-defined and her character’s motivations and abilities are sort of hazy. Having the seven dwarfs be otherworldly animated beings prevents them from having real personalities or from one really being the strong, comic-relief supporting character this movie probably needed.

Probably because the Snow White story was so thinly drawn in the first movie, this movie brings a lot of ideas to what’s going on and who these people are. But I feel like they’re mostly half-formed ideas. There is a lot of “to what end?” to all of the Evil Queen’s motivations that make her a mess of a character on top of Gadot’s nothing performance. Clearly “make her plucky” was the goal with Snow White but the movie never bothers to give her reasons for her pluckiness. It all feels so overworked, so “let’s please everyone!” that the result is just an unfun slog that probably pleases no one, giving us forgettable copy-of-a-copy songs and no real sense of why we’re watching these people. C- The 2025 live-action Snow White is in theaters. The 1937 animated movie is streaming on Disney+.

Featured Image: I’m Still Here (PG-13)

How to Win at Travel, by Brian Kelly


How to Win at Travel, by Brian Kelly (Avid Reader Press, 304 pages)

It’s hard to say whether Brian Kelly really founded the travel website known as The Points Guy, or whether his father actually did, because it’s Kelly’s father who set him on this path. When Kelly was 12, his dad let him arrange the family’s vacation using points he’d accumulated from airlines and hotels, and a traveler influencer was born. Before he even had a driver’s license Kelly was hooked on the game: how to travel the world, in style and at minimal cost.

As an adult, he went on to start a website in order to share his strategies, and “The Points Guy” took off after he was featured in a New York Times article in 2011. Now Kelly is a dad himself, he’s sold the website, and he has compiled a couple of decades of travel wisdom into a book that arrives just in time to help navigate your summer vacation.

Kelly calls this the “platinum age of travel,” arguing that it’s never been cheaper and easier to go so many different places if you know what you’re doing. Problem is, he says, most people don’t — unless they travel a lot for business, or grew up in a family that had the resources to travel, most people have never learned to travel well — it’s not something that’s taught.

“You may think travel is horrible across the board, but it’s amazing when the system works for you. When I travel, I rarely wait in lines. I don’t pay for food and drinks in airports. You can do the same, and I’ll show you how,” he promises.

Kelly begins by inviting readers to decide on “travel goals” and to set a travel budget, which right away may lose him some readers whose travel budget allows a day trip to Worcester, Mass. There is a smattering of generic advice in this section, some of which seems obvious (“Stay at hotels if safety is a concern or if you’re traveling alone”), but some of which is surprising (he advises travelers to wear backpacks on your front in crowded areas lest a thief slice the bottom of your bag without you knowing it). There’s high season and low season for travel, but there’s also “shoulder” season, the bridge between the two that is often the best time to go. And so forth.

From there, Kelly organizes the book into how to win at different aspects of travel: booking, earning and redeeming rewards, accessing perks, navigating lines, traveling with family, staying healthy, dealing with problems that arise, and managing fear of flying.

Again, some of the information he shares is intuitive: Your odds of having a flight delayed or canceled are the lowest earliest in the morning, for example. The more prestigious airlines (read: Delta) are usually more reliable. Where he gets into the granular stuff is where it gets interesting, as in one of his tips for booking cheaper flights. If you are, for example, in Oklahoma City and want to go to Tokyo, he advises that you buy a ticket from Oklahoma City to Los Angeles, and then book a separate flight from Los Angeles to Tokyo, thus (by his calculations) making the trip half of what it would have cost booking from Oklahoma City to Tokyo. This is a practice that travel junkies call repositioning flights.

The points and miles redemption chapters are where Kelly gets deep into the weeds, and readers will need to already have some knowledge of this game, or a burning desire to learn, or a couple of over-the-counter headache relief pills to keep up. He describes the machinations involved in getting the best values by accumulating points and moving them around and looking for “sweet spots” and planning “open-jaw” itineraries. (To be fair, Kelly does acknowledge, “If you’re a beginner, this chapter may get confusing.”)

Nor did I particularly enjoy reading about all the luxuries that all you people with access to airport lounges are enjoying while I’m waiting outside my gate. (You have showers? And buffets and VIP customer service?) I’m getting a bit grumpy at this point, I will acknowledge, since Kelly had promised me that I, too, could enjoy all the perks he’s enjoying, but he didn’t mention that I might need a Platinum Amex and elite status on Delta (which requires spending $28K a year).

As for easing the pain of lines, his advice is not novel (TSA PreCheck, CLEAR and Global Entry), and there have been reports lately of PreCheck lines being longer than regular since so many people have it, so that’s not even guaranteed to help.

Things get interesting again in the “flying with families” section because, despite having flown with four kids over two decades, I did not know that there is a debate over whether children should fly in first class (Kelly has done so) and that some people fly with “sorry gifts” to offer people who are upset by their crying or misbehaving children — like George and Amal Clooney, who once gave noise-canceling headphones to others seated near them on a flight. (Kelly’s against it — “Babies have a right to fly just like anyone else, and these types of gifts set an unnecessary precedent that we need gift packages to tolerate small humans.”)

Finally, Kelly offers some valuable nuggets on dealing with the inevitable problems, such as politely asking to be upgraded to first class on a flight to make up for the inconvenience if you are bumped from a flight or miss a connection because your flight was delayed. He also suggests contacting the airline via a DM on X if your flight is running late, asking them to “protect” you (hold a seat) on another flight in case you miss your connection. “Not all airlines will do this, but it never hurts to ask. Plus, asking to be protected makes you sound like a pro traveler and someone they want to keep happy as a customer.”

Kelly is a likeable guy who is enthusiastic about what he does, and he can make you think a little harder about how to improve the travel experience for you and your family. It’s unlikely that this book will overhaul the travel experience as promised for the casual traveler, and it feels a bit long for the amount of useful information gleaned. But at least those of us still without lounge access can save money by dispensing with the “sorry” gifts. B-

Featured Image: How to Win at Travel, by Brian Kelly

Album Reviews 25/03/27

Idle Heirs, Life Is Violence (Relapse Records)

Relapse continues to be one of the two or three (tops) metal-focused record labels I actually appreciate getting new stuff from, and the debut LP from this Kansas City crew is yet another spine-crunching assault, if you’ll pardon the metal-centric hyperbole. The “RIYL” (“Recommended If You Like”) list, so they told me, includes Deftones, Mogwai and Cult of Luna (in all honesty I was pleased that anyone knew Cult Of Luna even existed) and that’s right on target. I’d also add Isis as a more-or-less-soundalike, not that this record is as, I don’t know, polite as those guys; what I refer to is the raw intensity. We start with “Loose Tooth,” which lifts off with one of those balladic-acoustic patterns, with Coalesce singer Sean Ingram floating in mellow mode for a bit, and then the thing just explodes as Ingram lets out a Crowbar-worthy yowl that seems to go on forever (it sort of made me chuckle insanely, thinking about the last time a tooth was bothering the heck out of me). Anyway, it’s all overhead-speaker ambiance for Hell, as promised, not for the squeamish. A+

Roi Turbo, Bazooka [EP] (Maison Arts)

Fun act here, comprising two brothers named McCarthy, who grew up in Cape Town, South Africa, with music-loving parents and abandoned their drum lessons for autodidactic strategies (Conor played along to Bloc Party records; Ben learned via YouTube). I liked ’em already just based on that, but what’s even more hilarious and exhilarating is the underlying gay-disco-but-not-quite-gay-disco vibe of “Super Hands” on this five-songer. It’s pretty relentless, really, semi-seriously dabbling with Afrobeat and subsonic Aughts-era house cavitation; it made me think of YouTube’s Hulett Brothers, you know, the guys who do the trick shots with ping-pong balls and whatnot. These are party jams for sure, mildly gritty, slightly Ed Banger-ish instrumentals guaranteed to get heads a-bobbin’, for example “Dystopia,” with its faux-yacht-techno steez, which is punctuated with monkey sounds and ’70s-pop sweetness. They’ll be (very appropriately) supporting Empire Of The Sun at The Music Hall in Boston on May 24. A+

PLAYLIST

A seriously abridged compendium of recent and future CD releases

• And lo, unto the masses the lord (or someone pretending to be Him) commanded from his brunch table, “Let there be new albums dumped unto those peeps on March 28,” and thus it will be, this Friday, because I have no say in the matter! Yes, it’s another new release Friday, as we await “second winter” after a bunch of 60-degree days, but I’m ready for it! Why, you ask? Because I stored a turkey in our freezer in January, back when Market Basket was charging negative ten cents a pound for them or whatnot, so when this year’s Second Winter’s cruel frost sets in, I am going to be eating Second Thanksgiving Dinner, in my house, and then an entire blueberry pie, and then Petunia and I are going to go Christmas caroling in our neighborhood, dressed like Grinches, for the amusement of all the little children! Important note, I saved last year’s Detroit Lions’ Thanksgiving Day game on DVR, so I could watch it on Second Thanksgiving, so please don’t message me to tell me what the final score was, that’d be great, I just want to enjoy Second Winter in style, snoring on the couch! But where were we, oh yes, albums, and look at this, guys, the first thing to hit my radar is none other than Based On A True Story, the first album in 20 years from insane slapping person Will Smith! Wow, so that explains why he keeps coming up in “my socials” and by extension why my Twitter is full of slapping jokes! I was like, “Why is everyone suddenly making fun of the stupidest moment in the history of awards ceremonies, isn’t that old news,” but this explains it: The guy actually thinks we forgot about that incident with Chris Rock, my third favorite comedian after Doug Stanhope and Elon Musk! Well I’ll tell you, I haven’t forgotten, but I suppose there’s always the possibility that his new duet with Big Sean, “Beautiful Scars feat. OBanga,” will be so awesome and underground-hip-hoppy that I’ll be like, “Maybe Chris Rock actually deserved it for all his rotten ‘literally being a funny person’ antics, can’t we just pretend it’s 1990 again?” Nah, it’s awful; as you know, Big Sean peaked with Detroit 2, this is just corporate-hip-hop nonsense, with Auto-Tune, because of course there’s Auto-Tune. Some online person just said something about “Will should do a diss track of Jada Pinkett Smith and have Chris Rock spit some lines.” Ha ha, wouldn’t that be funny, OK, let’s move on from this horror, I’d love that.

Mumford & Sons, they’re still relevant, aren’t they, or are we already past believing any good music came out in the 2010s? Well, doesn’t matter, the Mumfords’ new album, Rushmere, is getting uploaded to your Spotifys as we speak, and it will include the title track, which is another one of those urgent-sounding galloping-horsie indie-meets-bluegrass tunes those guys specialize in, so yes, it’s cool, if hilariously redundant. You know, they really need to make up their minds about what to do next while they figure out which Vegas theater will give them a residency after their inevitable Grand Ole Opry phase (ack, did that sound cynical, I can never tell).

• Speaking of horsies, there’s pop-metal band The Darkness again, with a new album, called Dreams On Toast, featuring their horsie-voice singer, Whatsisname! The new tune, “I Hate Myself,” sounds like 1970s-era Sweet but super-boring, has anyone ever actually cared about this band, like really seriously, pinkie swear?
• In closing this column, I’d like to say that Deafheaven is still around, as they have a new album coming out momentarily, Lonely People With Power! “Heathen” starts off sounding like Sigur Ros, and then they do their usual black-metal nonsense. I don’t actually hate it, make of that what you will.

The Taste of Hope

It’s easy to be overwhelmed sometimes, weighed down with dread, but spring is coming.

Of course, in this part of the world that means Mud Season, but there is a smell in the air, carrying the slightest hint of hope. What we need — OK, I’m projecting. What I need is a cocktail infused with hope, or in this case, peas.

Peas de Resistance

  • 2 ounces pea-infused gin (see below)
  • 1 ounces fresh squeezed lemon juice
  • ¾ ounce simple syrup

This is a simple riff on a gin sour; the only difference is the addition of the peas — an important distinction, as it turns out.

Combine all ingredients over ice in a cocktail shaker, shake thoroughly, and strain into a coupé or Nick and Nora glass. Drink blisteringly cold, with a sigh of relief.

On first sip, the taste that hits you is the peas. That doesn’t sound very enticing, but the natural sweetness of the pea pods plays well with the lemon juice. This is a mouth-watering cocktail, and one sip invites another, until you realize that you should have made two. Which might prompt a quick phone call to a friend and an impromptu cocktail hour on your front steps.

Pea-Infused Gin

A quick science lesson: Surface Area-to-Mass Ratio

This is a jargony way of saying that the more surface area a substance has, the more room it has to interact with chemicals — alcohol, acid, water, oxygen or, in cooking, even smoke.

Imagine an object — let’s say a cucumber. Think of the surface area it presents to the world, modestly wrapped in a dark green wrapper. Now, imagine cutting it in half, lengthwise. Suddenly, there are two large surfaces exposed to the World. All the original surface is still there, plus these two new ones, which probably doubles the amount of exposed surface area.

Now chop those in half, crosswise. You’ve exposed four new surfaces. They aren’t as large as you got with the first set of cuts, but there’s four of them. Now chop up the cucumber. Each time you cut it you increase the amount of surface exposed to — er — the Universe or something.

Which brings us to the pea-infused gin.

Pour a couple of cups of dry gin — I like Gordon’s for this — into your blender. Add a couple handfuls of sugar snap peas, shell and all, into the gin. Blend them for 30 seconds or so. Your blender (mine is named Steve) will chop them into smaller, then almost microscopic, pieces, greatly increasing their surface area.

Turn off the blender and walk away for an hour or two to let the gin and the peas get to know each other. The alcohol in the gin will strip away a lot of the color and much of the flavor of the peas. If you’re distracted by something actually important — your family, a Bob Hope/Bing Crosby marathon on TCM, whatever — you can leave the blender jar sitting on your counter for an almost indefinite amount of time. Remember: This pea sludge is at least half alcohol.

When you’ve got a bit of time, strain it. I like to strain it twice — once with a mesh strainer and then again through a coffee filter, which will take longer. Don’t stand around watching it; it will drive you crazy. Walk away and do something else for a while. Maybe go for a walk, recognizing that this might attract some sort of alcoholic Goldilocks.

When you’re satisfied, bottle it and set it aside until you’re ready to use it.

Featured Photo: Peas de Resistance. Photo by John Fladd.

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